I have a huge confession to make. It's something that I've tried to hide, but I can no longer keep silent. I'm sure that when you read it you'll all leave me
en masse and never come back here again. I will have crossed that line with you at last.
Here goes.
I love Bollywood.
I remember when this unnatural love began. It was back in the 90s. I watched a film called
Fire, and I was immediately hooked. I saw a couple more after that, but the final nail wasn't hammered in until our friends George and Noelle (collectively known as Norge) brought over
Monsoon Wedding one evening, a truly good movie. I was a goner.
I've watched many Bollywood and Indian films since then, including the epic
Jodhaa Akbar, a sumptuous three and-a-half reading workout (all subtitles) and test of your ability to get over your western rush-to-the-bedroom-scene sensibilities. Hell, I've watched Johdaa Akbar twice in the past two weeks. That's seven hours of Hindi and Arabic. Why did I do it?
Indian films are interesting to me because they have a different timing, a different focus, a different humor. Most are pretty light fare, but there are those really good ones (like the above mentioned Fire and Monsoon Wedding) that let us in on a culture that most of us have never encountered, and that's fun for me. I love the clothing, the beautiful women and princely men...and the music! The song and dance numbers are lavish, very much in the style of the golden years of the Hollywood musicals, only, well, Indian. Exotic. Too, there's something sweetly old-fashioned and naive about Bollywood films, even when they try to be hip and equal to our films.
Personally, I hope they never get there.