Coming from Karan Johar’s production house, the title is refreshingly irreverent. Here Johar takes a step forward: he gives space, through the film’s central protagonist, to the section of audience that abhors his syrupy love stories and rolls their eyes as yet another karvachauth song plays out in the mansion with the dual staircase.

Ironically, this character Jai (Imran Khan), works for Veer Chopra, a director famous for making such formulaic blockbusters. A spoof on Karan Johar, the 30-something filmmaker (played by Sameer Soni), is constantly made fun of for his propensity to fill the heroine’s room with soft toys and pink curtains, and for his corny dialogues (mujhse dosti karoge/palat).

The film under production is titled Pyar Pyar Pyar and you’re delighted at Johar’s self-derogatory humorous stance (he also pokes fun at several blockbusters, many his own). Of course, he tells Jai that whatever he may think of his films, they “connect with the audience”. And this character also exonerates itself by playing the good-hearted cupid towards the end. But still, it’s rare for an industry heavyweight to laugh at himself.

Interestingly, Jai, who’s cynical about love and is therefore a Casanova (this film could have spared us the stereotypes), finds himself drawn to a girl Simran (Sonam Kapoor) at first sight. Turns out they’re going to be working together too - she’s the set designer of Veer Chopra’s latest film, and he’s going to be her assistant. And, yes, while he hates love stories, she’s an ardent devotee.

Simran seems to have the perfect life, including an adoring boyfriend (aptly named Raj) who brings her flowers every day. And this is where the film falters: in its extreme characterisation. Eventually we are to see Simran’s character in a dilemma over whom to choose.

At one end is Raj, an investment banker “from London”, who we’re told is too boring. And the exact opposite - Jai, who lies to women to sleep with them. And then asks them to leave early next morning without breakfast, and at times, without their shoes. (Of course, the dumped girl in question is portrayed as being an air-head and with a fake accent, so as to dilute our sympathy.)

The film wants us to believe that he’s a better option over Raj. Why? Because he’s fun and brings her red flowers instead of Raj’s dreary white.

It’s not the premise that’s unique here, it’s the storytelling - where the film-within-a-film format acquires a new dimension, with the real and reel merging. That’s where the fun really begins, when everything Jai disbelieves in happens to him. In the end, it’s also a metaphor for the film, which begins on an irreverent note, but ends like a conventional Hindi movie.

You can tell that debut filmmaker Punit Malhotra (earlier assistant to Karan Johar), is avidly inspired by English sitcoms and Hollywood rom-coms. It’s a disease that plagues several new filmmakers. The film is full of such references: Jai’s character is stock sitcom material (much like Charlie from Two and a Half Men), the upset female character who eats a tub of ice-cream, the over-smart comedy that’s only missing the canned laughter track, and a world where heart-broken men visit strip clubs to cheer up.

And from there, the film nosedives into familiar Hindi film vocabulary with words like pyaar and khoobsoorat.

An aspect that could have been hugely entertaining for the audience would have been the snatches of the filmmaking process. But sadly, instead of showing a real glimpse, the film just keeps up the commonly-believed facade that making a picture is one giant party.

The relationship between Jai and his mother is again filmi-friendly, and his aversion towards love is hurriedly explained off in the parents’ divorce. Strange, and seriously objectionable, is the mother telling her heart-broken son, “I had asked God for a son, but he gave me a daughter who’s crying over the phone.”

The film is bland without Imran Khan. As the boy-man who’s quite confused himself most of the times, Imran Khan is masterful. Sonam Kapoor is alright, but the role needed more punch.

For the cheeky comedy that often laughs at itself and largely for Imran Khan, this is a likely weekend treat, served sizzling hot.