The Archies Fuse Nostalgia & Nepotism
I’ve always been puzzled by India’s preoccupation with Archie. As a second-gen kid, I’d never encountered the comics in the U.S., but they were ubiquitous in Delhi and Shimla. Zoya Akhtar’s The Archies, a fun—if surface-level—holiday watch, unravels the enigma, capturing the driving forces behind Indians’ obsession: nostalgia and escapism.
The story follows Archie’s gang—Betty, Veronica, Jughead, et al.—as they struggle to save their Anglo-Indian community’s central park from corporate interests. Although I’ve never been a huge fan of Archie Comics—I found the storylines outdated and stereotypical—this film adaptation won me over. It’s a smarter, more meaningful (if still simplistic) take on the source material.
The characters and their relationships remain recognizable: Archie is still a well-intentioned idiot, Veronica an entitled rich girl, and Jughead a resolute foodie. Yet their hopes and dreams—as well as their relationships—are more clearly defined. Archie hopes to become a musician in London, while Reggie pursues stand-up comedy.
Zoya Akhtar’s Reboot
What struck me most about Akhtar’s reboot, however, was its deft setting shift: moving characters from 1950s small-town America (minus segregation, of course) to India. Riverdale—now an Anglo-Indian community founded in the years after 1947—is still an idealized neighborhood, but it carries a storied history: shaped by Brits and Indians collectively, it’s still coming to terms with its colonial roots. Why is it that Archie seeks London’s glamor, rather than looking within his own community? And if “every Englishman owes India,” as Archie’s grandfather says, why are large-scale reparations still forthcoming?
The movie also dips its toes into journalistic struggles and ethics. Reggie’s father, the head of Riverdale’s local paper, decides not to run an investigative story because his paper relies on Lodge for funding. Whether this is a dig at the Modi-age press—journalists are forced to run toothless stories to retain government advertising, and many are jailed and killed—is up for debate, but it’s certainly a pointed critique.
What Won Me Over
Importantly, the movie also revises some outdated storylines. I disliked the comics partially because of the blatant sexism in Betty and Veronica’s storylines: two girls, often sexualized, eternally warring over a boy. In The Archies, however, Betty and Veronica’s relationship with each other takes precedence. This narrative reshaping made all the difference; it’s part of what won me over.
Beyond these changes, however, the movie is mostly fluff. It’s fun, of course, and filled with entertaining performances from Bollywood’s nepo kids (Suhana Khan, Shah Rukh Khan’s daughter; Agastya Nanda, Amitabh Bachchan’s grandson; and Khushi Kapoor, Sridevi’s daughter), but the plot is skin-deep. The teenagers’ solution to the corporate takeover is questionable (there’s some vote-buying involved), the villain is cartoonish (in the manner of a comic-book supervillain, he says “Everything is for sale, Dawson”), and its messaging is a little on the nose.
Still, there’s nothing wrong with a cheesy film once in a while. Watching The Archies—as film critic Christy Lemire once put it in a review of Barbie—is like “sneaking spinach into your kid’s brownies.” Embedded in the layers of good-natured corniness are a few kernels of truth—and that makes it worth the watch.
