Tu Yaa Main Review | A Thrilling Romance Battling The Metaphorical Crocodile And The Biting-Kind

What’s true love if it’s not tested by time, fate and in this case—wilderness. A city like Mumbai embraces multitudes of meanings and also cradles individuals belonging to different socio-economic classes and cultures. Love is political and so is music. In Tu Yaa Main (2026), Adarsh Gourav plays Maruti aka rapper “Aala Flowpara from Nalasopara.” He lives in a humble chawl with his mother and sister who run a farsaan (snack) business. His musical motivation erupts from the very need to make it out of his ten by ten home and achieve genuine fame. Shanaya Kapoor plays Avani, aka Miss Vanity, a rich influencer. Despite her life appearing seemingly glamorous—there’s deep-seated loneliness gnawing at her. Although, the one thing that remains common between them is their fixation on the vapidity of the “like and subscribe” world, that only exists as a faint marker of human connection. 

As a music event and a request for “collab” turns into frequent meetings, sparks fly and these two fall in love. Avani’s family is hellbent on never letting this continue, contrarily Maruti’s is accepting and warm. He builds on the assumption that Avani’s life is a classic dilemma of a wealthy person who has no struggles to be preoccupied with, hence they look for reasons to be dissatisfied with their elite lives. At one point, he even hilariously exclaims that Avani is romanticizing his poverty and selling it back to him.

Tu Yaa Main (2026) is quite self-aware in the way it mocks its own filmy tropes, referencing how this love story swings between its own version of Gully Boy (2019) and Sairat (2016). There’s also a brief reference to “Hrithik ke papa ki film” Khoon Bhari Maang (1988) alluding to its iconic crocodile scene. Adapted from the original screenplay of the Thai film The Pool (2018) written by Ping Lumpraploeng, Abhishek Bandekar’s writing and dialogues feel colloquial, cinephilic and quietly self-assured. The film’s humour slips between crass yet charming banter between the two, amped up by the supporting characters Lyra (Parul Gulati) and Fabric (Ansh Chopra) who play their side-kicks. 

All is well and good—they frequently start appearing on each other’s Instagram stories and spend quality time. Crisis hits when they realise their actions have certain consequences. Within this conflict lies the aforementioned test of their love. Maruti and Avani decide to take a short retreat in Goa to cool off from recently encountered stress. However, the stormy Konkan weather does them no favours and forces them to halt at a shady, inhospitable motel that gives off an unmistakable sense of dread. Things are only going to get messier as destiny and mother nature come together to turn this into a tortured love story.

It’s not revolutionary for Bollywood to pair an affluent woman with a grounded man although this film does it exceptionally well. As mentioned before, this film is very aware of its Mumbai-situated identity and as an extension, the socio-economic and even ideological differences between the protagonists. They’re aware of these conflicting realities although unsure whether their relationship will sustain through it all.

Surviving a traumatic experience together surely brings two people closer although what’s interesting about Bejoy Nambiar’s Tu Yaa Main is that it internalises the conflict as much as externalising it. From the get go, the promotional material highlighted a massive crocodile at the core of its story, hinting at it becoming the third wheel between this couple. Although there are several other metaphorical crocodiles these protagonists are battling with individually. But the question is, how well do they do it together? 

Maruti’s struggle stems from his Mumbaikar spirit, dreaming of fame and fortune through hard work and soulful rap music. Financial struggles and the challenge of gaining internet clout hold him back, yet he remains far from dull—he is vibrantly ambitious. Avani, by contrast, wrestles with inner guilt and past trauma, trying to make sense of a life that feels solitary, even though she seemingly has all the comforts she could want. When Avani, an ace swimmer, and Maruti, terrified of water, are thrown together into this chaos, their inner conflicts begin to surface and confront one another.

Recently, another fantastic survival thriller starring Rachel McAdams and Dylan O’Brian called Send Help (2026) featured a battle of the sexes on a remote island. A cruel boss and an underestimated employee bring out the toxicity of a corporate culture that doesn’t seem to loosen its grip on them, even in such torrid times. Surrounded by the dangers of endless water, harsh weather and wildlife—the film turns into a quest of who can outlast whom. Amid the quarrels and tumultuous moments, we, as the audience, expect them to grow closer or even fall in love, but the film does the exact opposite.

Tu Yaa Main, on the other hand, tests them too, but it isn’t preoccupied with whether they love each other. Instead, it is concerned with whether they can survive the other unpredictable situation that has recently entered their relationship. This unpredictability is reflected in the film’s distinctly toothy antagonist(s) who lie completely calm for hours yet switch temperaments when least expected.

The limitations of their strength as a couple are placed within a 20-foot-deep swimming pool, completely drained of water, leaving them stranded at the bottom of the pit with useless, rusty, snap-and-break, Indian-quality-approved ladders, along with a massive drain that isn’t doing them any favours either. Despite the pool being massive, it doesn’t feel quite as vast when there’s a crocodile in it—within biting range. The spatial logic takes time to settle: a hotel devoid of guests, staff or security surely strains credibility. Their impulsive and barely thought-through decisions further add to the frustration.

The film tries to push our buttons, making the viewing experience an erratic graph that rises and falls drastically along the anxiety scale—from placing the protagonists in narrow pipes and around literal fire in an empty pool (yes, really) to trapping them in an endless cycle of attempting to climb out, only to fail. The animatronic crocodile(s) are almost believably terrifying and make for a very similar visceral experience to Steven Spielberg’s Jaws (1975). Cinematographer Remy Dalai sharpens the film’s tension, especially in the latter half when the action tightens around the swimming pool. Such adversity pushes and pulls the protagonists into internal realisations (and there must be a psychological term for this kind of trauma bonding) yet it makes for an intensely adrenaline-pulsing watch.

Several narrative choices within the film feel frustrating. Whether it is the incredibly sluggish pacing or certain loopholes within the characters’ decisions. Audiences will surely be engaged, yelling at them through the screen and directing them to take wiser routes. But that negates the fact that this insane pit of “Man (And Woman) v/s  Wild” is supposed to be dizzying, full of bad decisions yet somehow impactful.

The most unbelievable (yet hilarious) thing about this film is that there exists a mobile that’s actually waterproof underwater—with a ringtone that plays “Tum Hi Hamari Ho Manzil My Love” from Yaara Dildara (1991) at oddly inconvenient times. There are several other attempts to render this bone-chilling situation comical, as though to toy further with the audience’s emotions. For instance, Avani and Maruti attempt to coexist with the crocodile, even nicknaming it “gutter ka Godzilla.” At one point, even their only meal, a carton of Chinese food, is devoured by the crocodile. Amidst the chaos, the motel roof collapses, the rains wash everything away and our protagonists are left stranded, bloodied and helpless. 

Gourav, known for his stellar performances in The White Tiger (2021), Kho Gaye Hum Kahaan (2023) and more recently, Superboys of Malegaon (2025) reveals an entirely new side of himself in this film. His Mumbaiya accent, emotional groundedness and quiet ambition feel lived-in and authentic. Kapoor, on the other hand, appears somewhat cushioned by the nonchalant SoBo influencer persona she embodies—a space that seems comfortably close to home.

Granted most of the heavy-lifting in this film is Gourav’s, Kapoor manages to deliver a decently compelling performance supporting the film. Gradually, the plot turns into a quiet contest between the lovers— Tu Yaa Main You or me? Whose pain matters more? Who loves deeper? Who is willing to risk everything? These questions are rarely voiced, yet they shape every interaction between them. Maruti and Avani struggle to survive without turning on each other, confronting both external threats and their own buried fears.

Tu Yaa Main is the kind of romantic thriller Bollywood seldom ventures into. There’s enough experimentation here to hold the viewer’s attention even as the film openly embraces its flaws. The film is musically rich, foot-tapping and endlessly enjoyable with its eight-track album and immersive soundtrack. It plunges us into the deep end alongside its protagonists, and what unfolds is unexpectedly and endlessly entertaining. Somewhere between layered characterisation, carefully drawn backstories and immersive atmosphere emerges a love story that feels thrillingly fresh and distinct. If one overlooks its slightly overdrawn pacing and two-hour-twenty-five-minute runtime, along with Kapoor’s uneven performance and the narrative gaps, Tu Yaa Main could well turn out to be a crowd pleaser.