‘Love in Vietnam’ Review: Shantanu & Avneet’s earnest efforts lost in a travel brochure tale

The Setup Nobody Asked For

The story begins in Punjab, where Manav (Shantanu Maheshwari) loses his parents and grows up under the shadow of his uncle, played by Raj Babbar. His uncle once dreamed of music but abandoned it due to betrayal. Manav inherits the same passion, but his uncle pushes him into farming.

Simmi (Avneet Kaur), Manav’s childhood companion, is head over heels for him. His mother’s dying wish sealed their supposed marriage long ago. Unfortunately for Simmi, Manav treats her like an old school friend, not a soulmate. This doesn’t stop her from hovering around him like a shadow, because why waste a female character on personal ambition when you can reduce her entire arc to chasing an uninterested man?

To distract Manav from music, his uncle sends him abroad to study farming. Where exactly? Vietnam, of course. Because farming is best learned thousands of kilometers away while sightseeing on the Golden Bridge. Simmi, refusing to leave him alone for even a moment, tags along. Nobody questions this arrangement.

Enter Linh, Exit Logic

Once in Vietnam, Manav discovers a painting of Linh (Kha Ngân), an artist who also dances and paints because apparently one passion isn’t enough. Instantly, he decides to find the woman behind the canvas. From this point, the film becomes a wild goose chase disguised as romance.

Manav transforms into a stubborn searcher, determined to meet Linh. When they finally cross paths, the supposed chemistry feels like a contractual obligation rather than natural attraction. Linh’s role is important, but the writing reduces her to a mysterious prop. Their interactions are wooden, leaving viewers wondering if they accidentally walked into a rehearsal tape rather than a finished film.

Meanwhile, Simmi keeps orbiting around Manav. Avneet Kaur’s character spends the entire runtime acting like her identity begins and ends with him. It’s frustrating to watch because the film doesn’t even pretend she deserves a separate arc. She is simply the placeholder in a forced triangle, there to remind us that one-sided love is apparently a personality trait.

A Novel Lost in Translation

The Turkish novel Madonna in a Fur Coat had depth. It examined identity, alienation, and love’s ability to transform. It lingered on longing and captured how encounters can redefine lives. Love in Vietnam takes that legacy and flattens it into clichés.

Instead of internal conflict and layered emotions, we get eight years of Manav wandering around Vietnam like a rejected extra from a second-rate heartbreak anthem. The film seems convinced that sadness must be portrayed through messy hair, torn clothes, and endless sulking. Subtlety? Nowhere in sight.

The timeline stretches believability even further. Despite an eight-year gap, neither Manav nor Simmi show any physical or emotional change. Apparently, heartbreak pauses aging. It’s difficult to invest in their pain when the narrative refuses to reflect the passage of time in any meaningful way.

Sarcasm Meets Tourism

If you ever wondered what a feature-length tourism campaign would look like, this film answers it. From airlines to nightclubs, from Golden Bridge to Kiss Bridge, every landmark in Vietnam makes an appearance. If the characters had carried pamphlets, the illusion would be complete.

The problem isn’t showing beautiful locations—it’s forgetting there’s supposed to be a story unfolding around them. The backdrop becomes the main attraction, while the narrative limps along, secondary to drone shots of bridges and cafes. Watching it feels less like a romance and more like sitting through a travel agency’s slideshow.

Characters in Name Only

Shantanu Maheshwari’s Manav is written as a tortured artist but staged as a melodramatic tourist. His efforts are evident and his performance is earnest as you would expect from him given the fine actor he is but the film doesn’t support him.

Avneet Kaur too, shines in moments where Simmi’s loyalty aches, but the lack of character depth holds her back. Kha Ngan could have been a fascinating cultural pivot, but the screenplay reduces her to background decoration.

Kha Ngan’s Linh could have been layered a dancer, a painter, a cultural bridge. Instead, she’s just the exotic distraction. Her connection with Manav never convinces, no matter how many longing gazes, kisses or chance meetings the script throws at us.

Veterans like Raj Babbar and Farida Jalal act well enough for the paycheck, but their effort only highlights how little the rest of the cast manages to bring. Their presence adds some stability, but it’s not enough to salvage the mess around them.

Saquid Ayyub and Gulshan Grover have minimal screen time, but they manage to leave an impression. Their comic timing and punchy dialogues provide brief relief from the otherwise dragged-out narrative. Even with limited presence, they inject energy into scenes that would otherwise feel flat. It’s surprising how a few well-delivered lines can make supporting actors stand out more than the main cast, whose performances often lack conviction. While the story struggles to engage, these small doses of humor serve as tiny anchors, preventing the film from sinking entirely into monotony.

Cinematography and Direction

Now, about the technical aspects. If a film depends on good direction and strong cinematography, this one is in trouble. Some shots look professional, others resemble footage from an intern experimenting with a phone camera. In certain frames, the reflection of the camera setup is visible in mirrors—a mistake so glaring it pulls you out of the scene immediately.

Scenes lack rhythm. The pacing lurches from overly stretched emotional moments to abrupt cuts, making it hard to stay engaged. Dialogue delivery often feels flat, with lines that sound rehearsed rather than lived-in.

Music: The Lone Rescuer

The only section that offers some relief is the music. Songs occasionally strike the right chord, blending lyrics with melody in a way that feels authentic. Bade Din Huye, written by Rashmi Virag and composed by Amaal Mallik, sung by Armaan Malik, has a soft, romantic tone, though it loses impact on screen due to weak performances. Fakira, composed by Rahhat Shah Kazmi and sung by Aamir Ali and Varun Jain, attempts a more upbeat, playful vibe but struggles to stay memorable. Jeena Nahi, again by Rashmi Virag, Amaal Mallik, and Armaan Malik, carries emotion in the studio, but the visuals fail to match its mood. Chahe Jo Ho rounds out the soundtrack, providing another melodic pause, yet it too suffers when paired with underwhelming scenes.