There's a certain irony in watching Bollywood's first family attempt a "casual lunch" on camera. Nothing about the Kapoors has ever been casual: neither their legacy, nor their mythology, nor the long shadow cast by the man who built that empire, Raj Kapoor.
And yet, Dining With The Kapoors wants you to believe you've simply wandered into a family gathering mid-lunch, as if the cameras, lighting rigs, and artfully plated dishes didn't exist.
The charm of the documentary lies in how hard it tries to appear effortless and how, at times, it almost succeeds.
Directed by Smriti Mundhra and created by Armaan Jain, the one-hour Netflix special brings together four generations of the Kapoor family to mark Raj Kapoor's 100th birth anniversary.
Around a beautifully curated dining table sit Kareena Kapoor, Karisma Kapoor, Ranbir Kapoor, Neetu Kapoor, Randhir Kapoor, Rima Jain, Riddhima Kapoor Sahni, Aadar Jain and Armaan Jain, with Navya Naveli and Agastya Nanda also joining the mix.
It's a cast list that reads like a family tree, a literal visual census of Hindi cinema's most storied lineage.
On the surface, the premise is delicious: a sprawling family reunion that blends food, nostalgia, banter, and memories of the legendary patriarch whose culinary indulgences were as iconic as his films.
The documentary opens with a sense of anticipation - this is, after all, a rare sighting of the Kapoor clan together outside their famed Christmas lunches.
What follows is a warm, loosely structured tapestry of conversations where stories overlap, laughter interrupts emotional moments, and everyone talks over everyone else in a way only long-entangled families can.
The emotional spine of the documentary is unmistakably Raj Kapoor. He is in every story, every memory, every fond recollection. Anecdotes about him, his warmth, his flamboyance, his obsession with food, and his unmistakable influence on the family form the most heartfelt parts of the film.
Archival photographs and video clips show glimpses of the Showman in quieter moments, and these fragments lend the special its most affecting texture.
Ranbir talks about being named after his grandfather "because the family had run out of R-names," while others laugh about his legendary hospitality, the infamous swing in the Chembur bungalow, and the grandmother who would insist on adding a "generous dollop of ghee to every plate." These moments feel intimate, lived-in, and genuinely moving.
The documentary thrives on familial chaos, something the Kapoors have never pretended to hide. The table buzzes with overlapping chatter.
Kareena's eyes light up as she remembers paaya. Karisma recalls fish curry. Everyone gangs up on Neetu Kapoor for her salads and ghee avoidance. Aadar Jain delivers a slightly awkward but earnest speech. Rima Jain arrives late, immediately slipping into the role of storyteller. It's warm, funny, chaotic, and oddly comforting, almost like eavesdropping on a family you've somehow grown up watching.
But Dining With The Kapoors is also weighed down by its own contradictions. For a film positioned as a "food-centric" documentary, it barely scratches the culinary surface. We hear about dishes, but we rarely see them being explored in depth.
Armaan Jain cooks in the background using recipes from his great-grandmother's handwritten notes, but the film remains more interested in the idea of Kapoor food than the food itself. This lack of gastronomic depth feels like a missed opportunity, especially because the family's culinary traditions are rich, historic, and culturally significant.
There's also the persistent sense of performance. The Kapoors are consummate performers; being camera-aware is almost part of their DNA.
Several moments, especially in the initial greetings, feel filtered, cautious, and self-aware. The documentary wants to be fly-on-the-wall, but its subjects are too media-trained to ever fully let the camera disappear.
The sweetness is real, but the staging is apparent, and the "manufactured naturality" occasionally pulls the viewer out of the moment.
Another critique that's hard to ignore is how narrowly the film frames the Kapoor legacy. While Armaan attempts to explain the family tree, the documentary focuses largely on the Raj Kapoor branch, leaving out vast layers of the Kapoor dynasty - Shammi Kapoor, Shashi Kapoor, Jennifer Kendal, and others whose contributions to cinema are foundational.
Even the members present sometimes feel underused; Kareena, Karisma, and Ranbir, arguably the most culturally influential Kapoors of the past two decades, remain more like warm props than subjects of exploration.
Alia Bhatt's absence sparked public curiosity, though Armaan insists, "She had prior commitments to shoot," invoking Raj Kapoor's line, "work is worship."
While the documentary offers nostalgia and comfort, it sidesteps complexity. Raj Kapoor, the filmmaker, is celebrated lovingly, but Raj Kapoor, the complicated man who documented affairs, contradictions, patriarchal dynamics, is gently omitted.
As a family-made tribute, the omission is understandable; as a documentary, it keeps the narrative glossy and safe. What remains is a portrait painted entirely in warm tones: affectionate, tender, but never daring.
The critique that the special doubles as a promotional platform for Armaan Jain's cloud kitchen is also hard to shake. The tonal drift into soft-focus branding occasionally undercuts the sincerity of the gathering.
Likewise, the carefully staged setup: earthy tones, perfect lighting, aesthetic food shots, reminds you that this is as much about optics as it is about legacy.
Yet despite its flaws - predictability, a lack of depth, over-curation - Dining With The Kapoors is strangely enjoyable. It's an aesthetic, comforting watch, the kind of pleasant documentary you put on during a lazy weekend.
It gives viewers the warmth of old family stories, the nostalgia of sepia-toned memories, and the delight of watching famous people behave like any other family-teasing, reminiscing, interrupting, and indulging in stories they've told a hundred times.
Ultimately, the film is exactly what it promises to be: an ode to Raj Kapoor, a celebration of togetherness, and a polished glimpse into a family that has shaped Hindi cinema for nearly a century. It is not raw, not revealing, not investigative, and not particularly essential. But it is heartwarming, sentimental, and soothing, a perfectly pleasant meal that leaves you smiling, even if it never quite serves a full course.
And maybe, for a family whose history is already an open public archive, that's the point.