Follow Kar Lo Yaar is Amazon Prime Video’s answer to Netflix’s Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives. Both shows derive from Keeping Up with the Kardashians, the mothership that defined both reality TV and celebrity culture in the 21st century.
But the star of Follow Kar Lo Yaar, Uorfi Javed, is not a Bollywood wife. Born and raised in a middle-class, conservative Muslim family in Lucknow, she doesn’t have the requisite cultural capital or connections to access elusive stardom in India’s ruthless entertainment landscape. Yet, in December 2022, she became one of the most Googled celebrities in Asia, surpassing Bollywood star kids like Sara Ali Khan and Janhvi Kapoor. Uorfi’s claim to fame? Provocative outfits, shock value, and controversy.
A still from Follow Kar Lo Yaar.
(Photo Courtesy: Amazon Prime Video)
In this attention economy, where eyeballs translate directly to money, she has gamed the paparazzi system to catapult into stardom.
Her success is undoubtedly a product of toxic celebrity culture that venerates the lowest common denominator of money and eyeballs, bypassing the need for any talent, legacy, or social welfare.
But almost anything one might say to criticise her, she preempts––and unapologetically owns––in Follow Kar Lo Yaar, whose title itself is a self-aware, unashamed call for people to follow her on Instagram, where she now has almost 5 million followers.
Uorfi Javed in a still from Follow Kar Lo Yaar.
(Photo Courtesy: Amazon Prime Video)
Directed by Sandeep Kukreja, the nine-episode show opens with an elaborate unpacking of the anatomy of a “spotting”: Uorfi and her team contacting the paparazzi (she acknowledges that she has to be on time, because they won’t wait for her), and carefully staging the seemingly chance encounter of her in an outlandish outfit. Without wasting any time, it then quickly cuts to her getting multiple fillers, treating botox like buying candy from a convenience store. Just like that, we’re completely immersed into her world. Can we keep up with Uorfi?
Follow Kar Lo Yaar has all the raw material for an enjoyable reality TV binge, from a rags-to-riches backstory, to catty family dynamics, to terrible childhood trauma, to plenty of boob-job talk. It follows Uorfi, her sisters, mother, managers, agents, and friends to provide unprecedented access into her life. But it feels laboured and exhausting rather than exciting.
Most episodes consist of jarringly staged moments artificially stitched together with PowerPoint style transitions. The performances are so contrived that the series is not just tedious but actively discomfiting in many instances.
A still from Follow Kar Lo Yaar.
(Photo Courtesy: Amazon Prime Video)
Follow Kar Lo Yaar is also tonally all over the place, as though the makers are haphazardly trying different things, hoping something sticks. It wants to be a showreel for Uorfi, framing her journey towards building a unicorn company and breaking the barriers of gender, religion, and class; a Kardashian-style portrait of her family, with Bigg Boss-style drama and screaming matches; and also a profound look at how childhood trauma shapes your personality, love life, and aspirations. But the show can’t do justice to all these things at once; it just abruptly flits between them.
One recurring angle, for example, is Uorfi being in therapy.
Beyond the obvious discomfort of voyeuristically witnessing what’s meant to be a private exchange, there are some valuable insights about what fuels her desire to buy people’s respect –– the fact that no amount of money and attention can fill the void left by an abusive father who abandoned Uorfi’s family when she was 15.
This trauma clearly lives within the family, who now depend on Uorfi’s wealth, no matter how hollow a foundation it may be built on.
Another potentially interesting track is Uorfi’s attempt to convert her stardom into a long-term business.
As an outsider who doesn’t have the “right background”, she lacks the support to fall back on. Brand deals fall through, international artists mislead about collaborations, and she gets uninvited from an event at the last minute. The tenuousness of her stardom is always palpable; she’s often disrespected and dismissed, constantly forced to fight for her fame. Uorfi brazenly wears this status as a badge of honour. When she meets fellow internet sensation, Orhan “Orry” Awatramani, for instance, she schools him on his privilege (to which he responds with unsurprising tone-deafness).
A still from Follow Kar Lo Yaar.
But Follow Kar Lo Yaar doesn’t meaningfully explore these avenues. Instead, it insists on boring us with an inane love triangle and incessant squabbling that comes and goes out of nowhere. The series simply isn’t entertaining enough to sustain nine episodes. While shock value and staged spectacles can generate traction on Instagram, it’s harder to translate into something bigger. Uorfi’s floundering podcast, “Uncancellable,” is proof. And so is Follow Kar Lo Yaar, which is ultimately an unremarkable attempt to elevate her stardom beyond social media.
Amid the many grating scenes of shrill shrieking, I found myself craving more quiet moments of Uorfi reflecting with her therapist, slowly seeking inner peace. Even better if she’d turn off the cameras, too.
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