The hype machine is a loud, expensive beast. Usually, it’s fueled by lithium-ion batteries and unearned confidence. This time, it’s a movie. Specifically, Do Deewane Seher Mein. It’s the kind of title that sounds like it was generated by a legacy AI trying to mimic a 90s indie flick, but here we are. It’s out. It’s urban. It’s "gritty" in that way only movies with a multi-million dollar lighting budget can be.

The "Public Review" videos are already hitting the feeds. You know the ones. A frantic cameraman stands outside a multiplex, shoving a microphone into the face of someone who just spent 500 rupees on a tub of stale popcorn. The "I WATCH" crowd is shouting about chemistry. "Siddhant is fire," says one guy in a knock-off Supreme hoodie. "Mrunal is a vibe," says another. It’s the kind of performative praise that makes you wonder if we’ve forgotten how to actually watch a film without thinking about the TikTok edit we’ll make later.

Let’s talk about that chemistry. Siddhant Chaturvedi is leaning hard into his brand. He’s the cool, slightly damaged urbanite. He’s got the smolder down to a science. It’s calculated. It’s optimized for the algorithm. Then there’s Mrunal Thakur, who is essentially the only person in the room actually acting. She’s trying to ground a script that feels like it was written in the notes app of a disgruntled millennial.

The friction here isn't in the plot. It’s in the ticket price. You’re looking at a 1,200-rupee night out once you factor in the "convenience fees" and the parking. For that price, "chemistry" isn't enough. You want a reason to stay off your phone for two hours. The trade-off is simple: do these two pretty people make you forget that your rent just went up? The public reviews say yes, but the public also thinks the latest iPhone is a revolution because it comes in a new shade of "Titanium Boredom."

The film tries to capture the "city" as a character. It’s a tired trope. Mumbai is shown through a series of drone shots and neon-lit rainy streets. It’s the aesthetic of a lo-fi hip-hop radio station. It looks great on an OLED screen, sure. But there’s a hollowness to the struggle. Siddhant’s character lives in a "shabby" apartment that would still cost four lakhs a month in real-world Bandra. It’s poverty cosplay for the multiplex crowd.

There’s a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from watching another movie about "finding oneself" in a metro city. We’ve seen the rooftop conversations. We’ve seen the montage of them riding a scooter through empty streets at 3 AM—because apparently, traffic doesn't exist when you’re falling in love. The public is eating it up because we’re starved for anything that isn't a superhero punching a CGI cloud. We’ll take the crumbs of a human connection, even if it’s packaged in a glossy, over-saturated filter.

The "I WATCH" reviews are obsessed with whether the duo "looks good together." They do. They’re gorgeous. If the bar for cinema is now "do these people look like they’d have a successful joint Instagram account," then Do Deewane Seher Mein is a masterpiece. But if you’re looking for a story that doesn't feel like a long-form advertisement for a lifestyle brand, you’re out of luck.

The audience is charmed. Or maybe they’re just relieved. Relieved to see a movie that doesn't require a Wikipedia deep dive into a cinematic universe. But there’s a lingering bitterness to the whole exercise. We’re being sold a version of urban life that doesn't exist, starring people who are too polished to be real, and we’re being asked to call it "authentic."

The theater was half-empty when I checked the booking app. Maybe the chemistry is fire, but the spark hasn't quite hit the box office yet. It’s a 140-minute commitment in an era of 15-second attention spans. The public is fickle, the critics are tired, and the stars are already moving on to their next brand endorsement.

It makes you wonder: if a romance happens in a city and no one posts a "Public Review" about it, did they even fall in love?