MUMBAI: Bollywood romances often rely on glamour, grand gestures, and glossy montages. Love in Vietnam, directed by Rahhat Shah Kazmi, chooses the opposite path—it strips love to its rawest form, showing us not just the joy of union but the ache of memory. And much of its impact rests on the shoulders of its performances, which elevate the film beyond a conventional romance.
At its heart, Love in Vietnam is about three intertwined lives—Manav (Shantanu Maheshwari), Simmi (Avneet Kaur), and Lin (Kha Ngan). Childhood love binds Manav and Simmi, their connection portrayed with a lived-in authenticity. But destiny sends Manav to Vietnam under the watchful presence of his uncle (Raj Babbar). There, a fleeting glance at Lin’s photograph sparks an obsession, turning his life into a restless search for something elusive, something perhaps imagined.
The question lingers: is Lin real, or is she merely the embodiment of Manav’s longing? The narrative keeps us suspended in that ambiguity, making his ache our own.
Shantanu Maheshwari carries the film with an understated brilliance. His Manav is not dramatic, but internalized—a man torn between memory and desire. He communicates more in silence than many actors do with words. In a story where melodrama could have easily taken over, Shantanu opts for subtle truth, allowing us to feel his yearning without ever spelling it out. It’s a career-defining turn.
If Shantanu is the anchor, Avneet Kaur is the storm. In the second half, she explodes with vulnerability and heartbreak. Her portrayal of Simmi isn’t simply of a woman scorned; it’s of someone deeply compassionate, trying to hold together a man crumbling under the weight of his own heart. Her silence, especially in the scenes where she pulls Manav away, is devastating. She becomes the soul of the film.
Kha Ngan’s Lin is luminous yet distant, tender yet elusive. She is less a character and more a memory made flesh, representing the dreamlike pull of impossible love. Her presence elevates the narrative into something larger than a conventional triangle—she is the reminder that some loves are meant to haunt, not to stay.
Raj Babbar, Gulshan Grover, and Farida Jalal enrich the film with their maturity. They lend gravity to a narrative that might otherwise drift into abstraction. Their presence reminds us that love doesn’t exist in isolation—it is shaped and shadowed by family, by tradition, by life itself.
What makes Love in Vietnam special is how its cast collectively communicates longing. There are no overblown dialogues or exaggerated gestures. Instead, there are silences, pauses, and eyes that speak volumes. Every actor contributes to a film that feels less like fiction and more like memory itself.
Though not flawless—the rushed first act and occasional clunky dialogue stand out—the performances give Love in Vietnam its enduring power. This is a film where actors don’t just play roles; they embody emotions. It's a sincere, performance-driven romance that reminds us why love stories still matter in cinema.
3/5 stars.
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