Netflix’s The Royals walks into the room dressed in couture, dripping royalty, and then proceeds to trip over its own train. What should’ve been a sharp, sexy takedown of modern monarchy ends up being eight hours of aesthetic excess and narrative exhaustion. Despite a promising premise and some genuinely interesting character threads, the show buckles under the weight of its own wannabe-regal melodrama.
Set in the crumbling Motibagh Palace, we follow the broke-but-proud Morpur royals trying to turn their ancestral mess into a cash cow. Enter Sophia (Bhumi Pednekar), a hotel chain CEO with a business proposal and a chip on her shoulder. Unfortunately for her (and us), she’s stuck dealing with Aviraaj (Ishaan Khatter), the newly-crowned Maharaja who’s part playboy, part rebel, and wholly annoying in that “I-don’t-want-this-responsibility” archetype we’ve seen too many times before.
The premise has legs. A hospitality-business-meets-royalty setup? Yes. A jaded prince versus a corporate queen? Double yes. But the show quickly wastes all that potential with an indecisive tone, hollow subplots, and writing that tries to be snappy but ends up sounding like an AI-generated rom-com.
The central love story is the biggest letdown—more “meh” than magnetic. Bhumi and Ishaan, individually talented, just don’t spark. Their scenes feel forced, their chemistry more contractual than compelling. Around them, the show throws in every cliché it can find: family scandals, closet rebellions, dead kings, and secrets that are neither shocking nor earned. The supporting cast—especially Sakshi Tanwar and Vihaan Samat—briefly breathe life into the plot, but even they can’t save a show that’s too busy looking pretty to care about depth.
Visually, The Royals is hard to fault. The palatial sets, the costumes, the royal Instagram aesthetics—chef’s kiss. But beyond the glossy surface, there’s little substance. It’s a series that feels like a one-season pitch that got greenlit without edits. Every storyline that could’ve been fleshed out—queer identity, generational trauma, royal absurdities—is reduced to a side dish on a banquet table full of empty platters.
Sure, there are moments where the satire peeks through, and some dialogues hint at self-awareness, but the overall execution just doesn’t have the edge or emotional payoff to make it land. The Royals wants to be both grand and gritty, fun and profound—but in trying to be everything, it ends up doing nothing really well.
Watch it if you love palace aesthetics and need something to play in the background. But if you’re expecting sharp storytelling or memorable characters, this royal court might not be worth attending.