The words “Love never hurts, love heals,” shine bright in the final frame, thereby proving that this film is like that mysterious facebook friend (you don’t remember why and when you added this creature) who keeps sharing emo Archie-card forwards on their wall in ghastly sMs LiNgO.

There’s no point writing about the performances. They’re all on an extended British holiday, being paid to behave like sugar-addled nincompoops at a funfair. What’s not to love? (or hate, if you’ve paid for a ticket to watch rich stars vacationing abroad)

Eventually, ‘Waiting’ serves a calm and dignified reminder of how the act itself is anything but. It is a fine little film about love, and a kind of anguish that has its own little quirks and half-smiles.

An immersive rural tragicomedy built on loops of oppression…

Calling it a “posh urban thriller” is one thing, hijacking an entire landscape and soundscape to justify this inane production package is another altogether. I was planning to visit the country next year, and now I’m worried that I’ll find rickshaws, overcrowded buses, honking scooters and hawkers selling Chetan Bhagat books and Bhatt DVDs at traffic signals.

I’ve seen worse, but to put things into perspective: The director’s earliest Hindi film was the delightful ‘Mumbai Meri Jaan’. This was before he discovered that making movies is a very lucrative business.

The fortunate thing about Jai Gangaajal is that its politics is a bit more generic and easier to decode than Jha’s previous efforts. But the unfortunate part is that it’s just another 158-minute long Prakash Jha movie.

The makers show considerable restraint with their film. It may be a story about hypocrisy, sexuality, intolerance, “coming out” and various relevant causes. But they will do well to remember that, first and foremost, Aligarh is a dignified account of two men who became necessary to each other – before the world (and the jowls of politics and Bollywood) consumed both, the movie, and its inhabitants.

Neerja isn’t a movie I want to look back on and think about. I suspect it’s meant to be felt – and reacted to – in real time. It doesn’t matter if I discover tiny mistakes later. I feel shaken, and moved, and inspired right now. And occasionally, the first feeling while walking out the hall is the only analysis required, and the only instinct that matters.

Make no mistake – this film could only have been about Indian women. It lays bare their inherent battles without being too gimmicky, pretentious or offering immediate solutions.