If you’ve kept even loose tabs on Dharma Productions’ offerings over the years, particularly projects involving Karan Johar—whether in the capacity of director or producer—you’ll most likely agree that subtlety is not to be expected. In fact, Johar is known for the exact opposite of that: flashy, operatic mutant-melodramas that appear set in alternate universes populated with pretty people, heightened emotions and, well, a whole lot of shiny things—beautiful but improbable for the most part. But, in what is perhaps a sign that even the top tier of commercial Bollywood must occasionally succumb to the larger, ongoing migration towards realism, Dharma’s newest, Kapoor & Sons, is not quite the over-the-top cheese-fest you might have pegged it for from watching the promos. Indeed, the film, directed by relative newbie Shakun Batra, is a clear few notches above typical Dharma fare if only for the fact that it is a lot more relatable plot-wise and much more restrained in approach than you’d expect. That isn’t to say, however, that the movie doesn’t have its flaws: while there are certainly moments and performances that stand out, and everything looks the way it should, the parts don’t necessarily come together as a convincing whole—as hard as it tries to stay grounded, Kapoor & Sons can’t fully resist the temptation to employ exaggerated sentimentality, detracting from its overall impact.

Something of an awkward reunion is on the cards in the hill station of Coonoor in India’s south. Grandfather (Rishi Kapoor) has just suffered a stroke, prompting grandsons Arjun (Sidharth Malhotra) and the older Rahul (Fawad Khan) to converge at the old family home at the behest of their parents (Rajat Kapoor and Ratna Pathak), the first time in five years that they’ve all been together. Rahul, you see, lives in the UK, where he’s a bestselling novelist, besides being an all-round nice, responsible guy, mum Sunita’s “perfect child.” Unsurprisingly, Arjun—who also wants to be a writer but has had poor luck getting published, and makes a living bartending part-time in New Jersey—tends to feel more than a little inferior when people gush over his big brother, particularly as dad Harsh comes down so hard on him for never sticking to anything long enough. Besides which, he’s not too certain Rahul is entirely deserving of all that praise and affection—Arjun has some serious doubts about the legitimacy of his brother’s perceived success.

Suffice it to say, then, there’s tension enough between the brothers as it is. And for reasons unknown to them, it appears that in the years that they’ve been away, some sort of rift has emerged between Harsh and Sunita—the two are at each other’s throats constantly, falling out over the smallest of issues, even sleeping in separate bedrooms. To complicate matters even more, there are their grandfather’s increasingly eccentric demands to keep up with—and his health troubles, of course. Oh, and the fact that the old man just won’t quit pretending to drop dead at the breakfast table. And as if all this weren’t enough, a girl (Alia Bhatt) has just arrived in the neighbourhood and seems to be vibing with both Arjun and Rahul, straining things between them even further.

Batra, who co-wrote the film with Ayesha Devitre Dhillon, understands family. Far from the sort of hallowed, infallible institutions many Bollywood films make it out to be, family here, for the most part, is depicted in all its messy glory—liberating and oppressive in equal measure. Happy family portraits, it seems to tell us, are never quite real; they represent the way we would like to remember ourselves, something to whitewash over our differences and disappointments, an imagined perfect moment. Relatedly, Kapoor & Sons also addresses a certain issue—which I won’t divulge any further so as to avoid spoilers—with truly surprising sensitivity. Just know that it’s a great leap from the sort of damaging stereotypes that mainstream movies otherwise tend to peddle, and one that is hopefully an indication of things to come. Another big plus for the film are the very natural-sounding dialogues—evident in the quarrels in particular, albeit a bit of an assault on the ears at times; one of my favourite scenes in the film involves a poor plumber who gets caught in the middle of some none-too-polite verbal sparring. Also creating a sense of intimacy is the cinematography by Jeffery Bierman, camera gliding over the Kapoors’ homestead and members with familiar, unhurried ease.

Speaking of ease, on the actors’ front, though they might enjoy relatively limited screen time compared to their younger counterparts, Pathak and Kapoor (Rajat) steal the show right out from under them. The two are such a natural fit, and such capable performers, able to generate believable history and baggage between their characters—their scenes, individually or together, are among the most moving here. Khan comes a close second with a graceful, controlled portrayal that grows stronger as the film goes on. It’s unfortunate, then, that the rest of the cast are a bit of a let-down—Malhotra struggles to deliver the emotional range called for here, and Bhatt, though likeable, is made to play the sort of chirpy, carefree young thing she’s played far too many times already. As for the senior Kapoor, I don’t understand why the filmmakers went to the trouble of piling so much prosthetic make-up on the actor that he can barely move his face, when they could’ve simply cast someone older. Bizarre appearance aside, the pervy old grandpa bit didn’t work for me either—a clichéd gimmick that tires easily.

Also unnecessary is the backstory Bhatt’s character is saddled with rather belatedly, intended to explain away her quirks, but which feels decidedly forced, unnecessarily diverting attention from the central conflicts in the film. And therein lies another grouse: the multiple conflicts often all conveniently unravel at the same time, to the point where the proceedings start to feel very choreographed and contrived, especially towards the end where Kapoor & Sons settles for easy emotional manipulation and simplistic resolutions. For a film that initially appears keen to examine the cracks within families, the dark, dank bits where resentment and guilt and hurt dwells, to find then that it is ultimately more interested in patching these cracks up as quickly and cleanly as possible, is disappointing.

Though it eventually does end up reiterating the idea that whatever your differences might be, families should always stick together—pretty much the Dharma party line—that shouldn’t take away from the fact that up to a certain point, Kapoor & Sons comprises an intelligent, enjoyable ride. It might not be as off the beaten track as it might like you to think, but it does try—if not always successfully—to give us something of an authentic glimpse into the nature of human behaviour and relationships. That, along with the performances by three of the actors, warrants a watch at the very least.