There is a sense of rush and haste in the first half of Vivek Soni’s Chand Mera Dil, and it almost makes sense. Just like the viewer, the protagonists too find themselves navigating a life and set of circumstances they weren’t prepared for. There is no room for any emotion to settle down — the two lovers are compelled to deal with everything that comes their way, and it feels about right. If this was a film entirely about a failed relationship, it would have made sense. But Chand Mera Dil is not really sure what it wants to be - and this is only the beginning of where things start to go wrong.

The film tells the story of Aarav (Lakshya) and Chandni (Ananya Panday), two engineering students who instinctively fall for each other. It feels like an intense, early adolescent romance at first, but soon the two lovers end up committing to more than they had anticipated. For a while, Chand Mera Dil promises to settle into a story about a failed relationship that’s equal parts messy and discomforting. However, the film is undone by its utterly ineffectual writing and complete unwillingness to push the boundary.

Cast: Ananya Panday, Lakshya, Paresh Pahuja, Manish Chaudhari, Richa Shankar

Director: Vivek Soni

Romance remains a genre where bringing originality remains a unique beast to battle. It’s also a genre where lensing could become a gateway for bringing in something unique. Chand Mera Dil doesn’t try. While we are promised a story about two lovers who grow apart, the film remains unevenly obsessed with Aarav’s trajectory. Like most filmmakers in the past who prioritised a hero figure’s agony and angst, the writers here too give undue screen-time to Aarav’s moments of outburst. Chandni's perspective, meanwhile, is left a mystery, something to be discovered by the protagonist and work as a plot-twist for the audience, almost as if it’s not worthy of a deep exploration. The title alludes to a tilted perspective — where we remain on one side, looking at the other from a distance.

This takes a major toll on the film’s ambitions. The emotions don’t land. Characters’ actions remain unfathomable and puzzling, let alone something to root for. Both Aarav and Chandni are given elaborate backstories about their childhood wounds, which barely play a role in shaping events in the current timeline. With each scene, it only becomes clearer — the wide chasm between intent and outcome. You remain indifferent and devoid of emotion, despite the melodrama and histrionics on screen. Everything bounces off you. The gap between a filmmaker’s conviction and our reaction is so huge that one can’t help but be puzzled at the distance, and how unsentimental one is left by the end of it all.

There are many visuals used merely as embellishments in a narrative that does nothing for you emotionally. Two lovers are discussing their future in the middle of a busy highway. A bare-chested Aarav nonchalantly walks around the campus with Chandni. The entire sub-plot around Aarav's smoking. The protagonists also often have to say things out loud to underline a sense of drama otherwise missing from the script, like when Aarav recalls how their love story has become ‘legendary’ on campus—an observation otherwise implausible if not force-fed to us.

Vivek Soni (in collaboration with cinematographer Debojeet Ray) clearly has a penchant for finding eye-catching visuals and keeping things interesting on a photographic level. Some of the staging stays with you, too. Be it the Chungking Express-like frame rate, the shaky camera during a few moments of confrontation, or the way the camera pans from Aarav’s face to Chandni’s in the anniversary scene, in a room full of people oblivious to their situation. Around the 40-minute mark, the protagonists make a decision bound to change their lives. They are naturally jubilant as they profess their love for each other. However, their declaration isn’t normal by any standards. Vivek stages a visual so larger-than-life that will either make you swoon or cringe — there is no middle ground. Unfortunately, while Chand Mera Dil has great appetite for melodrama, it has none of the stamina.

The film works best when it follows Aarav as he tries to be better and to undo his past mistakes, even as those mistakes continue to haunt him. Considering how he is bullied by his students, reprimanded by prospective recruiters, and insulted by Chandni’s mother, it’s understandable that Aarav develops a fragile ego. But the writers don’t allow the same courtesy to Chandni, making no attempt to show how she might be dealing with a broken relationship and the many other responsibilities life has now handed her. Maybe a script like this required more seasoned performers who can lend some gravitas to the uneven emotional weight. Lakshya struggles with the material, mistaking volume for depth. In contrast, Ananya Panday delivers a much better, more grounded performance, committing to the melodramatic tone without relying on it. The other cast members appear in unfortunately forgettable parts, especially Manish Chaudhari.

Through its runtime, Chand Mera Dil reminds one of many Hindi films that dealt with similar ideas or themes. Thappad (2020), Saath Saath, and Saathiya (2002). Saath Saath, released in 1981, follows a couple who dreamily set out to build an ideal marriage, but the harsh struggles of survival push them apart, killing the very dreams that laid the foundation for their love.

What remains most saddening is how, almost 45 years later, mainstream Bollywood still cannot trust its audience to accept a film about parted lovers or an imperfect love story. While it tries to rehash the age-old ‘cant-leave-them-or-love-them’ sentiment, it refuses to fully commit to the heightened emotionality either. Chand Mera Dil is emptier than it looks.