The Khan-Kajol pairing proves that the stars still have what it takes to set the screen alight, and they are more combustible together than Dhawan and Sanon, but their romance is tired and trite. The movie works best when it stays within the Golmaal zone, and Farhad-Sajid’s WhatsApp-level humour keeps the eyelids from meeting ever so often.

… sumptuous retelling of the legend is strong on romance but weak on statecraft.

Ruhil makes a fine weasly villain, who is using Kajarya for his own ends, and the movie has its share of corpulent police officers and cold-hearted editors. It’s a grim watch, but then female foeticide is never easy to confront.

The focus on the inner world of the Krays and their cohorts excludes any awareness of what else was going on in London at that point, but as a platform for the talented cast, especially Hardy, the movie works just fine. Helgeland’s screenplay is packed with sharp one-liners and repartee, including Ronnie’s observation that he is a “giver and not a receiver” when he is describing the kind of gay man he is, and Thewlis’s resigned comment that the gang needs “a public relations department and we have Joseph Goebbels”.

After some dubious-looking computer-generated backdrops in the opening scenes set in Nantucket, the special effects team kicks into gear once the Essex enters the water. The battle between the whale and the humans has the unfortunate effect of creating empathy for the mammal, which appears rightfully outraged at the repeated attacks on members of its pod. After the mammal has done its work, the story floats as aimlessly as the castaways, counting down to the inevitable return home. The cast performs efficiently, but they are dwarfed in every way possible by Moby Dick’s inspiration.

Though the movie has been shot in a fashionably jittery, hand-held style, and the overlapping conversations and rapid-fire editing suggest momentum and purpose, the 120-minute running time is a stretch. Since the movie has saddled each of its female characters with a Problem, it feels duty-bound to address every one of them. The conceit of being a non-formulaic movie that examines Indian social problems in a realistic manner blows up in the preposterous climax, which faithfully follows the scripting rule book that a gun in the first scene must be fired by the end.

There simply isn’t enough here for 131 minutes. Sharman Joshi looks pained throughout at the prospect of having to profess undying love for Zarine Khan, deal with Daisy Shah’s incompetence, and pretend that Grover is a dastardly villain.

In keeping with one of the many boxing movie traditions invoked by that Creed, a full-throated yes follows a half-hearted no.

The movies have measured out their moments of grace and levity in tea spoons. This has been the rare franchise without false hope and easy short-cuts. The soft-focus closing frames in a film whose favourite colour is grey suggest an ending that is unearned, and the relationship between Katnis and Peeta remains frustratingly underdeveloped.

At 151 minutes (the filmmakers seem to have used every single shot canned), only a handful of scenes stand out. Kapoor and Padukone are perfectly paired, and Ali brings out their chemistry in many tender moments.