Insofar as romantic comedies go, when love meets tradition, it’s usually the tradition that flinches first. The real gems of the genre have always been the ones that subtly subvert expectations, and now that we are long past the golden age of studios and stars creating love connections, we must look to the world we live in for real stories that matter. A Nice Indian Boy, directed by Roshan Sethi, which premiered at SXSW 2024, takes the well-worn rom-com template and injects it with a modern specificity, infectious charm, and respectful cultural warmth that’s refreshing and long overdue. Familiar but not formulaic, it leaves a surprising emotional mark and hits the heart in unexpected ways.

Adapted by Erin Randall from Madhuri Shekar’s play, A Nice Indian Boy introduces us to Naveen Gavaskar (Karan Soni, Deadpool), a soft-spoken doctor in Los Angeles caught between two versions of himself: the dutiful son of first-generation Indian immigrants and a gay man quietly seeking partnership. This delicate duality crumbles when he falls for Jay Kurundkar (Jonathan Groff, Frozen), a white man raised by Indian adoptive parents with dreams of a big, traditional Indian wedding and a family to go with it.

When circumstances force Naveen to bring Jay home to meet his family – including his enthusiastically “supportive” mother Megha (Zarna Garg), his seemingly perfect sister Arundhathi (Sunita Mani, Spirited), and his silently observant father Archit (Harish Patel, Eternals) – cultural expectations bump up against unspoken personal truths.

The setup may suggest a fish-out-of-water culture clash, but the film smartly avoids the easy beats. Jay isn’t an outsider looking in—he speaks Marathi, knows how to navigate a temple visit, and perhaps, most importantly, is fully himself. What makes A Nice Indian Boy work is its refusal to reduce anyone to stereotypes or props in a convenient moral lesson for its audience. Jay and Naveen are complete characters with internal conflicts, not just stock avatars for identity politics. Sure, the film has predictable moments, but Soni and Groff’s undeniable chemistry carries the narrative over these small bumps.

Soni, who was previously directed by his real-life husband in the pandemic-set romance 7 Days, captures the tension of a man caught between tradition and his personal desires, afraid to wonder what crossing the two would mean. There’s a version of Groff’s character that could’ve felt contrived or too eager, but Groff excels at conveying deep emotions for the characters he takes on. Jay longs for connection, stability, and belonging – and Groff shows all this to us without ever resorting to melodrama. Also, he navigates potentially rocky territory by demonstrating how his attachment to Indian culture feels genuine rather than appropriative.

As the more level-headed family members, Mani and Patel give their characters the appropriate real-world firmness, especially as the third act expectedly turns more serious which is when the film gets slightly predictable. Patel has a great scene with Groff near the end that will start the waterworks (if you haven’t gotten the tissues out already). However, the film’s secret weapon is undoubtedly Garg as Naveen’s mother Megha. Stealing every scene she’s in as a mother trying to be the best PFLAG poster parent she can muster, her well-intentioned overcompensation makes for the film’s biggest laughs. Her enthusiasm for acceptance frequently overshoots into uncomfortable territory, creating moments of humor that come from truth, not cruelty.

Technically, A Nice Indian Boy doesn’t scream high budget, but that works in its favor. Closer in spirit to a Richard Curtis studio picture than the straight-to-streaming option for the algorithm, the crisp cinematography and production design make the Gavaskar home feel aspirational and lived-in. Costuming helps tell the story, too, with Florence Barrett’s designs giving us a lot of information by allowing us to see what characters wear to the temple, to dinner, and to important confrontations that may change the course of their lives. Nothing pushes too hard, it’s all just right.

Randall’s screenplay explores how even the most loving families can struggle with change, and how cultural identity shapes our romantic expectations. Along with Sethi’s assured direction, there’s real care in the staging of A Nice Indian Boy, in the transitions between humor and heartbreak, and in how it lets the family and relationships around it evolve rather than be instantly transformed by one sit-down conversation. That’s life.

While watching the film, I found myself thinking about my own family gatherings—those moments when years of tradition and introductions of modern change bump up against each other, creating bristling friction and opportunity for growth. The film captures that universal experience through its successfully specific, well-intentioned lens, making it accessible to audiences regardless of their cultural background or identities.

When we reach the inevitable big wedding sequence, complete with vibrant colors and choreographed celebration, the emotional groundwork for a refreshingly guilt-free “happy cry” has been laid so effectively that it feels completely earned rather than mandatory. Sethi gently reminds us that family traditions are at their most meaningful when they evolve to embrace new definitions of love and human connection.

A Nice Indian Boy recognizes that progress is messy but celebrates specificity without demanding anyone pass a cultural quiz. It acknowledges that love, like identity, is complex—and that tradition can be both an anchor to keep us safe and a launchpad to a brave new world. It’s not just about acceptance. It’s about the joy of being fully seen as who you were always meant to be.