Fathers and sons… always tricky – Beyond Bollywood

First-time director Boman Irani, Birdman (2014) writer Alexander Dinelaris’ soul-stirring father-son saga thrives on its subtle storytelling. Boman Irani and Siddhartha Basu deliver virtuoso performances.

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (4 / 5)

By Mayur Lookhar

A late bloomer who made his acting debut in his 40s, Boman Irani has turned writer-director at 65 with The Mehta Boys (2025). 

“What makes a great script?” Boman Irani was asked in a recent interview. 

“It’s a difficult question to answer,” replied Irani. He pauses, then gesticulates, saying, “There is a story, and then beneath that story is the real story.”

How profound and how true. Beneath The Mehta Boys (2025) story, there are plenty of stories and messaging—none preachy. In fact, most of it is unstated yet heartfelt. None takes a toll on your brain, but it strikes a deep chord in your heart.

The Mehta Boys is a simple father-son story—their fractious relationship, though not irreparable. Is it really broken? All it took was one act that caused them to drift apart.  A few years ago, Amay Mehta (Avinash Tiwary) ran away from home (Navsari, Gujarat) to pursue his dreams in Mumbai. No, he didn’t come chasing Bollywood, but he believed his architectural skills could be best displayed in the concrete jungles of the city. Remarkably, this isn’t shown but revealed in an uncomfortable father-son conversation. “You broke your mother’s heart,” is all that Shiv Mehta (Boman Irani) says to his son.

He had his dream come true, but life in Mumbai is anything but hunky-dory. In fact, Amay is under serious threat of losing his job. In the middle of a meeting, he receives the tragic news of his mother’s sudden death. He naturally heads home, but even on this occasion, the father barely acknowledges his son. All he does is gesticulate for him to remove his footwear before entering the room where his mother’s mortal remains lie. The film chooses to honour Shivani Mehta’s (Morli Patel) memory but doesn’t show the body or the funeral.

Shiv’s daughter, Ana Mehta Patel (Puja Sarup), urges her father to stay with her in the United States. (Phew, sadly, under Trump 2.0, this may not be possible for many Shivs or Shivanis.) Though reluctant, Shiv agrees to migrate to the US—not to please his daughter, but because he and his wife had promised each other that if one of them passed away, the other would stay with their daughter. He only agreed to it because he always believed he would be the first to die.

The 71-year-old has a flight from Mumbai but isn’t issued a boarding pass due to his concessional ticket, with the airline naturally giving priority to full-fare passengers. As his daughter is about to leave, the father and son have a brief argument. Shiv Mehta will travel to the US but is compelled to spend the next 48 hours with his son. Neither appears pleased at the prospect, but they have given their word to Ana.

Over the next 48 hours, the father-son duo experiences their share of argument, some tense, some pleasant moments. And within these moments lie unspoken stories, beautifully woven through the pen of Irani and, rather surprisingly, American writer Alexander Dinelaris. The latter was a writer on the Academy Award-winning Alejandro G. Iñárritu film Birdman: The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance (2014).

How can a videsi resonate with desi conflicts and culture? Emotions, though, are universal.  Let’s not forget Birdman had a very tiny Indian connection. Remember the early scene where Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton) alights from a taxi at Broadway but perhaps forgets to pay the cab driver, who cusses in Gujarati. Ah, if you know their cuss words, Iñárritu and Dinelaris are well-versed with Indian culture.

The family has its own dynamics, but The Mehta Boys goes beyond the boys, with other characters shaping the way for the protagonists to exhibit their characters in particular situations. Amay’s boss and work environment play a significant role in shaping his professional and personal conduct. Saumik Sen (Siddhartha Basu) comes across as a boss who feels his employees are no longer creatively productive.  The first meeting is interrupted by the receptionist, Flora (Flora Jacob), who enters carrying a memo with the tragic news of Amay’s mother’s death. She apologises for interrupting, but Sen is quick to say, “I really wish you were, but what we have here is competency mixed with ingenuity and plagiary.”  Whoa, not just corporate boardrooms—doesn’t this hold true for Bollywood too?

The Sen & Sons office is not necessarily a haven for sycophants, but employees feel trampled under hierarchy, too scared to speak their minds. They are all occupied with the thought of saving their high-paying jobs.  What does our man Amay do? He has a tendency to attend meetings 15 minutes early but often ends up as a mute spectator, nodding to his reporting officer, senior architect Makhija (Harssh A Singh). Seeing him early, Sen wonders whether Amay has something to show, but the man just shakes his head.  Sen helps himself to a drink and then gives him a piece of his mind: “When I was your age, I had vision but no confidence. Today, I have confidence but no vision.” Clearly, the boss is sending signals to his employee to buckle up.  Having communicated it indirectly, Sen eventually tells Amay after a meeting, “I don’t know what I’m paying you for.”

A man struggling at work is most likely to have tension at home too. Who does Amay fall back on for emotional support? He lives alone and likes his office colleague Zara (Shreya Chaudhry), but she hasn’t committed to him. This isn’t the right time to mend fragile ties with his father. On the contrary, their arguments only add to his internal turmoil. In one such moment, Shiv clenches his fists, but as a son, Amay simply has to endure. 

So far in his career, Tiwary has played similar characters, where he is required to rein in his anger. Laila Majnu (2018) was a career high, but since then, he has largely cut a sorry figure. As an actor, he feels stifled—frustrating because there is potential, but Tiwary just doesn’t seem to have pushed himself enough. However, Amay is a stifled character, making Tiwary the perfect man to play him.

He (Amay) is a good guy, but destiny and circumstances haven’t been kind to him. Where does he go wrong in his equation with his father? Nowhere, perhaps. Maybe Shiv is misinterpreting his words.  Does the fault then lie with the father? No. Shiv’s tone and words may sound harsh, but what Amay fails to see is that his father only wants the best for him. How relatable is that for most fathers and sons? No wonder this relationship is always tricky.

Given this plot, you’d assume it is drawn from the maker’s own relationship with his father. Sadly, Boman lost his father while he was still in his mother’s womb.  One might then assume it is inspired by his equation with his sons, Kayoze and Danesh. Boman and Danesh have turned producers with this film. There is nothing public to suggest that, but at a meet-and-greet, Boman did mention that he added shades of his mother to the character of Ana. Inspiration or not, The Mehta Boys is simply relatable, and the driving force behind this attachment is Boman himself. The man hasn’t just played this character—he has lived it. That’s the mark of a virtuoso performance.

He may be grumpy with his son, but with the women, he is a real sweetheart. Unlike Amay, Ana can look her dad in the eye and strongly express her views.  At the airport, when the father and son are arguing, a teary-eyed Ana tells them, “Mom is watching all this.” In an earlier scene, Ana walks up to her dad on the cricket ground, demanding that he have a conversation. Oh, dads listen to their daughters. Most sons tend to be mama’s boys.

Shiv is most at ease with Zara, who is enamored by the old gentleman’s sense of humour. The girl is invited for a beer sans Amay, and in this conversation, Shiv shares a brilliant story from Amay’s school involving a math teacher, Mukadam. His wife had asked him to be a strict father in the teacher’s presence, so Shiv grabs his son by the neck, scolding him for his poor handwriting, only to realise it doesn’t belong to Amay but to Mukadam Sir. It’s bizarre—how could a disciplinarian like Shiv not gauge that? Zara breaks into laughter. Jeez, Chaudhry is just so natural. Sticking with women, don’t miss a crucial elevator shot where Zenobia (Mrs. Irani) makes an bright appearance.

There’s a light moment with Amay when he first arrives at the former’s residence—they don’t speak much, but together they laugh while watching Laurel and Hardy. Phew, Boman and cartoons—Darna Mana Hai (2003) to The Mehta Boys. Just watching Amay smile and eventually fall asleep, with his father not bothering to wake him up, reminds us that Shiv may be tough but is a caring father. Even in their arguments, there are lessons to be learned. Shiv laments how the world is increasingly dependent on technology. His best comment, which initially isn’t grasped by Amay, is how most structures in Mumbai are all glass and steel, making it hard to differentiate between New York, London, or Mumbai—a lesson for all architects. 

At home, he has his mood swings, but Shiv is gentle with most people around him. He shows immense respect to the workers, who’ve come to fix the broken ceiling in Amay’s room.  He offers them tea, fritters, and gently asking if the surrounding part of the broken ceiling might also fall off. These men are humble labourers, but like architects, they sure know their craft assuring Shiv that the beam wouldn’t fall off. Shiv isn’t perfect, but this is a masterclass by the humble Boman Irani.

Though his screen time is limited, veteran quizmaster Siddhartha Basu delivers a tour de force. Wish most of us had a boss who despised sycophancy but pushed people to bring out the best in them.

The Mehta Boys is no slow burn, but it flows at its own pace, allowing viewers to silently and internally experience the emotions. Though minimal, the emotionally gripping background score elevates the overall experience. Fathers and sons—they’ll always be tricky, but therein lies the magic. Destiny wasn’t on his side at birth, but Boman can now humbly share a drink with Danesh. Three cheers for The Mehta Boys. Three cheers for Irani Movietone.