Golmaal, Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron, these are gigantic reference points for any film. This one lives up to them in substantial measure; I can’t think of a better compliment to pay.

It’s interesting to watch a story on love-outside-wedlock carefully play out without falling into one-dimensional traps of a blame-game, where either partner is entirely villainous (scores of films). Or the actions are justified by a sweet, innocent, unrequited, but eternal love from the past (Silsila, and several of its clones). The film doesn’t perceive monogamy as an impossible human attribute either, so I didn’t see the moral status-quo on marriages being rocked. The discussion centres on how if you’re not with the one you love; you need not be forced to love the one you’re with.

You may, or may not be entirely convinced by Mehra’s phenomenally filmed, but rather far-fetched grand finale. But to me, it somehow worked, just as the competently and subtly structured screenplay (Renzil De’Silva, Mehra) that begins to breathe a life of its own. Thanks to a brilliant piece of photography (Binod Pradan) that never draws attention to itself, and a sizzling score (A R Rahman) that does. And above all, no doubt in my mind, Aamir, who exudes a rare candour, irresistible charm and characteristic charisma to take an inspirational subject to an altogether another level.

All said, given that every formula worth a ‘family film’ — about a young boy who meets a young girl as they live (or don’t live) happily ever after — has been flogged to death, this fresh, sparkling and lively resurrection that can at least hold you for the paid-up hours deserves the see-grade. Don’t expect a classic, but I think you should go for it.

As for the lead protagonist Khan (brilliant), let’s just say, in an entire career that spans a string of no-brainer, schmaltzy cinema hot off the shelves of Bollywood’s money-making masala stores, this is by far the most significant film he’s done yet. For this is another inspiring account of what self-empowered underdogs can accomplish through sheer zeal and phenomenal focus. I cannot think of a better film for the longest that deserved a stronger recommendation for both touring cinemas of India’s villages, and plush multiplexes of Mumbai or Manhattan. Finally, an honest, fine example of an unfortunately debunked, bastardised term called ‘crossover’.

An old-fashioned love tale for the tear-ducts. Which, I must pleasantly note, still holds and very mildly moves you.