The biggest letdown is Ali, who doesn’t even seem to be trying anymore. This is a film that feels like it was directed on auto-pilot and then left to its own devices.

Imtiaz seems to have settled into a comfort zone of his own. The cult of Ali the Incurable Romantic will only grow with films like these. But Ali the Director might need to branch out soon.

JHMS marks a thumping return to love at its most banal, hackneyed and exasperating. There is not much in the silly situations and trite conversations to get you invested or interested in the lovers. The two main characters themselves don’t seem to share that vital thing on screen called frisson