'Four Years Later' Review: Bold Sex, Bitter Fights & the Real Cost of Desi Marriage Abroad

Four Years Later

Streaming on Lionsgate Play, July 11th onwards

Cast: Shahana Goswami, Akshay Ajit Singh, Kate Box, Roy Joseph, Amit Singh Thakur, Taj Aldeeb & more

Directed by: Fadia Abboud & Mohini Herse

Created by: Mithila Gupta

Rating- *** (3/5)

If marriage is a journey, then Four Years Later is what happens when your GPS reroutes every ten minutes. Created by Mithila Gupta, an Indian-born Australian writer, this limited series tries to capture what love looks like when it is stretched between continents, expectations and a few questionable life choices.

The story begins where most Bollywood romances end. With a wedding. Sri and Yash decide to go ahead with an arranged match despite half-hearted support from their families. A few flashbacks and an ocean’s worth of emotional baggage later, we find them awkwardly reuniting in Sydney after years of long-distance love and low-speed buffering.

At its core, this is a story about what it really takes to stay in love once the confetti settles and the Wi-Fi lags.

Arranged Marriage with a Global Passport

Sri is confident, spirited and unwilling to play the quietly suffering daughter-in-law. Yash is a sweet but spineless medical student whose dreams are not entirely his own. His father wants him to become the family’s ticket to prosperity. The only catch is that he must go to Australia and leave his new bride behind. Classic desi trade-off. One ticket, zero privacy.

The series sets up its premise well. The couple’s marriage begins on uneven ground. They are in love but surrounded by control, unsolicited advice and a joint family who thinks asking for time alone is borderline rebellious. The emotional honeymoon phase is short. Before Sri can unpack her wedding gifts, Yash is off to Sydney and she is left in Jaipur trying not to lose herself in the rituals and routines of being a good bahu.

Distance Makes the Skype Calls Weird

The couple tries to stay connected through late-night video calls. Some are cute. Some are steamy. Most are interrupted by family members hovering in the background. These moments are where the show taps into a quiet kind of desperation. The need to hold on to love even when the logistics are doing their best to mess it up.

But while the premise is powerful, the writing sometimes slips into repetition. The emotional beats start feeling recycled. A fight leads to a call. A call leads to reconciliation. Followed by another misunderstanding. The loop continues. The episodes are only twenty five minutes long, yet they often feel like they are running in place.

Still, there is a grounded honesty in how the show portrays modern intimacy. It is clumsy and inconvenient. Just like real life.

Sridevi’s Transformation Is the Real Plot

What begins as a story of two people slowly morphs into the journey of one woman. Sri’s time in Jaipur is hard. Her in-laws are textbook controlling. She is not allowed to work, speak up or even suggest a weekend getaway. The pressure to conform is subtle at first and then suffocating. Yet Sri never becomes a victim. She watches, waits and eventually finds her own way out.

Her symbolic awakening happens in a zoo, where she connects with a tiger that looks more trapped than wild. That animal becomes a recurring metaphor. A necklace, a soft toy, a quiet companion through her transformation. Later, when Sri finally reaches Australia, the tiger becomes less of a symbol and more of a reminder of what she refuses to become again.

She meets Gabriella, a Sydney cafe owner who becomes a friend, mentor and cultural sponge. Through Gabriella, Sri rediscovers joy. Work becomes purpose. Casual chats turn into clarity. For the first time, she is seen not just as someone's wife but as her own person.

Yash Has Problems Too, But His Get Less Screen Time

Yash is not having a great time either. His job is thankless, his exams are relentless and his supervisor is as warm as a hospital curtain. He tries to navigate a foreign culture that does not always see him as an equal. One telling exchange sums it up. He asks his boss where in India he is from. The man replies, unimpressed, with a dry "Sydney." It stings. And rightly so.

There are hints of microaggressions and emotional burnout. Yash gets close to Jamal, a hospital cleaner from Syria who becomes his confidante. She sees something in him that he himself cannot see yet. Their dynamic teeters on the edge of something more, but it is clear that Yash is too loyal, too lost and too confused to know what to do with it.

While Yash’s arc is significant, it lacks the same emotional depth that Sri’s journey enjoys. This feels intentional. The story seems far more interested in her freedom than his awakening. Fair enough. She is easier to root for. And definitely more fun to watch.

The Good, the Frustrating and the Occasionally Unnecessary

The show is beautifully shot. Jaipur glows. Sydney sulks. The cinematography captures the emotional contrast between the two cities. Colour palettes shift with the mood. The visuals work even when the dialogue does not.

There are scenes that land with weight. Sri cooking Yash’s favourite daal in a moment of love. Sri peeling off her sari and walking into the ocean in a moment of clarity. These moments are small but electric.

Then there are the clunkers. The medical drama surrounding Yash’s work feels like it wandered in from another series entirely. The pacing is inconsistent. Some subplots disappear without closure. Characters vanish. Conflicts escalate and dissolve with little build-up. Especially for a show that prides itself on emotional realism, this becomes hard to ignore.

Also, the couple fights a lot. And not in the good Before Sunrise way. Their conflicts feel less like emotional sparring and more like listening to the same couple argue about the same issue for the hundredth time. The realism is appreciated. The exhaustion is not. And especially with a show like this, that already demands a lot of your attention in all aspects.

The Final Call: Not for the Romantics, but Maybe for the Realists

Four Years Later is not a typical love story. There are no villains or perfect endings. Just two people trying to honour the promises they made before they fully understood what they meant.

Watch it for Shahana Goswami, who gives a performance filled with quiet fury and charm. She never plays Sridevi for sympathy, only for truth. Her evolution from a woman-in-love to a woman-in-charge is the heartbeat of the show.

Akshay Ajit Singh holds his own in the quieter scenes. His Yash is not the hero. He is not even sure he wants to be one. But his confusion and guilt feel believable, and his softer moments balance Sri’s fire.

In the end, Four Years Later asks a simple question. What happens when love survives but changes shape? It does not offer a tidy answer. Instead, it lets the characters grow, hurt, forgive and maybe try again. Or maybe not.

Which, if you think about it, is more realistic than all the declarations and sunsets in the world.

Just one warning. The show has a fair amount of intense intimacy. So maybe avoid watching it in the living room with extended family. Or at least keep the remote nearby.

What do you think about a show like this that is set in India but is aimed as a story globally where despite the characters hailing from remote and lowly backgrounds, they are shown to talk in English? Let us know in the comments below.