It is, then, heartbreaking to watch such a defiantly ostentatious director borrow plot-points from foreign films, stultify his characters with ridiculous dialogue, and fall for painfully mainstream trappings, like a hackneyed, obligatory revenge/redemption subplot that makes a most unnecessary appearance towards the film's end.

A film like Guzaarish isn't made for the box office. It's made for the gratification of the senses. And that it does, in ample measure.

Magic tricks are performed with a flourish borrowed both from Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale in The Prestige. Costumes are snatched from an Edwardian era and set in a house from a horror film. There are singing nuns; servants who stir, chop and slice with vigour; women who weep beatifically; and a model who appears to be in the middle of a Vogue cover shoot. Yet the only one crying in this marathon tug-at-the-heart is the producer, who has spent Rs 60 crore on red roses, red scarves and red ties.

Despite the inconsistencies, the best part of the film is the relationship between Ethan and Sophia. Their interactions with each other, the fights, arguments and the banter touch the right chords. In terms of setting, the film is spectacular -- the music and dialogues serve as perfect embellishments.

Guzaarish is an art museum. Aishwarya Rai Bachchan is the perfectly chiseled curator and Hrithik Roshan an almost statue. And this once, it’s not his acting I’m complaining about, the script demands him to stay put. You are watching them etched in many exotic, exquisite paintings frame after frame. So, what if the very basis of the story is pointless and there are gaping holes which are difficult to digest.