‘Gustaakh Ishq’ moves at its own unhurried pace, offering quiet moments of poetry, longing, and fragile human connection. It lingers in memory more for its small gestures than for any sweeping drama. The film feels like a soft whisper in a room full of noise, drawing you in with its subtle charm. It gently reminds the viewer that sometimes silence speaks louder than spectacle.
‘Gustaakh Ishq’ arrives in the cinema as a quiet breath in a time dominated by loud, spectacle-driven films, though it often feels hesitant to make a lasting impression. Its strength lies in patience: lingering shots, hushed dialogue, and unhurried pacing that ask the audience to settle into the rhythm of its world. This thoughtful approach attempts to create an immersive experience grounded in stillness. It builds an atmosphere that rewards viewers who appreciate deliberate, meditative storytelling.
A promising start that captivates
Every frame feels deliberate, every pause meaningful. Yet the film’s deliberate slowness can verge on tedium, leaving you waiting for moments that never quite arrive. There’s warmth here, a sense that the story and its characters inhabit a space that’s tangible, inviting the viewer to breathe alongside them. Even in its slower stretches, the film carries a gentle weight, though it rarely reaches the emotional heights it seems to aim for. This creates a lingering sense of potential that feels only partially realized.
The story follows Nawabuddin (Vijay Varma), a man determined to revive the printing press his late father left behind. In that process, he gets to know about unpublished poetry by Aziz Beg (Naseeruddin Shah), a reclusive poet who has long avoided fame and recognition. Aziz, now aging, lives quietly with his daughter Minni (Fatima Sana Shaikh). Their interactions offer glimpses of deeper themes about legacy, art, and human connection. The narrative hints at emotional depth that occasionally shines through in reflective moments.
Manish Malhotra’s debut as a producer leaves a visible mark on the film’s aesthetic, giving it a polished look and a visual identity that feels carefully curated. The sets, costumes, and cinematography contribute a nostalgic charm that elevates the viewing experience, but even this polish can’t fully compensate for the uneven screenplay. His eye for texture and vintage detail adds richness to the visual palette. The film often feels like a beautifully framed postcard waiting for a stronger story.
Characters like Minni are underutilized, and Nawabuddin, played with earnest restraint by Varma, occasionally feels too measured, as if the performance is holding itself back. The camera work, sound, and music do their job in pulling you into the world of the film, but at times they also underline how pretty the film looks compared to how little it makes you feel. The story aims for quiet reflection and emotional depth, yet slow pacing and loosely drawn plot points stop it from feeling fully satisfying. These choices create a gap between intention and emotional impact.
A whisper of charm but not roar
In the end, ‘Gustaakh Ishq’ remains a quiet film that doesn’t try to impress with grand drama. It leaves you with small, soft moments—a line of poetry, a glance, a tune—that stay in your mind even when the story doesn’t. It never really hits big emotional highs, but the actors are sincere, the visuals are pleasing, and now and then it finds a gentle poetic touch. The film settles into a subtle rhythm that will appeal to a niche audience.
The film plays it safe when it could have gone deeper, so what stays with you are pieces rather than a strong whole. If you’re willing to slow down and soak in its calm mood, it offers a few quiet rewards, though the overall effect feels uneven. It’s a cinematic experience that values restraint over revelation. Ultimately, the film feels like a tender promise that never fully blossoms.
