Saif arrives, a proud Sardar standing next to an Uttam Kumar poster looking up at her emerging from those exquisitely Calcuttan green-shuttered windows, and as she walks to him her path is flanked by unpainted effigies. She haltingly gulps with the unfamiliar liquid like it was poison, and it seems no coincidence that she's often glimpsed, like Juliet, on a balcony. There is genuine charm as we see a new girl (whose name, I'm flummoxed to know, the filmmakers are hiding) standing on her balcony, downing liquor tea in an attempt to drink what her man likes. The sepiatoned track is the far better one. It's a clever move even though Saif struggles rather laughably with his Punjabi early on in the film, and it doesn't help how the narrative inevitably flips back and forth between that and the overslanged Lay's-salesman Saif of today. Kapoor then, on Saif's insistence, starts telling him his own love story, and the film then narrates both romances side by side.ДЄli uses a very interesting device by casting Saif himself in the Kapoor flashbacks: Kapoor tells Khan how the boy reminds him of his youth, and so the Sikh Saif isn't Kapoor as he used to look, but Kapoor as both he and Saif can visualise him as the tale is narrated. Rishi drives Saif there and thrusts a bouquet into his hands, and Deepika's delighted as she leaves. The girl leaves, the boy stays back and is then coerced by Rishi Kapoor, a genial London cafe owner, to say goodbye at the airport. Saif Ali Khan and Deepika Padukone are parting ways with utmost cordiality, deciding indeed to have a break-up party to celebrate their rediscovered singledom. The film opens, rather originally, with a break-up. It feels as if Ali inexplicably decided,' chal', let's make a Kunal Kohli kinda movie.' It's always profoundly saddening when a film seems more like it's calculated to make the most money instead of just being the story the director wants to tell, and this film would have worked much, much better as a drama. Ali's dialogue is still his biggest strength, but here the conversation is so peppered with Hinglish in an obvious attempt to connect with the kids that it doesn't wash - Saying 'aapka angle kya hai?' for 'what's your angle?' just doesn't work, sorry. We have poignant moments interrupted by touches of lets-tickle-the-audience humour, as if India can't take a drama straight up.ДЄnd the songs, something Imtiaz earlier managed to weave in so seamlessly into his narratives, now abruptly interrupt the proceedings with much bling. It's a romantic drama that would have worked wonderfully if it hadn't tried to be funny in the first half, and doesn't work in the second because the laughs dry up. Love Aaj Kal is watchable, but feels heavily compromised. It is only at this, film three, that the director appears to have hit a snag. His second, Jab We Met, was Bollywooded up to quite a degree - choreographed songs et al - but thanks to Imtiaz's charming dialogues and a leading lady throwing herself madly over the top, remained very enjoyable indeed. It's a very fun film, refreshing in its abject unfilminess. I have been an ardent admirer of Ali's work from his very first film, the tragically underviewed and tremendously delightful Socha Na Tha - a film with a more honest connect with youth and reality than even the epochal Dil Chahta Hai. Imtiaz Ali, one of the most promising filmmakers in the country, is sadly down with blockbusteritis.

Dil chahta hai meaning