BOLLYWOOD SWINGIN

I saw my first Bollywood film last night.
“Heyy Babyy”.
Miral took us. He’s Katya’s co-instructor for the classes, and one of Shiamak’s dancers.
It was a multiplex-type place called Inox. Regular movie stuff at the candy counters, popcorn and pop. Then weird Indian things too, like mini-buckets of curry-dusted corn. Stadium seating inside the theatre, like anywhere else. Some ads. Some previews.
Then suddenly a CGI Indian flag waving in a CGI breeze appears onscreen, and everyone stands while a Casio-synthesized version of the Indian national anthem blares. Katya and I stand shaking, trying not to giggle at how absurd it all seems, but then it’s certainly no more absurd than saluting your country before overpaid baton-wielders pound each other half to death over a hunk of frozen rubber. Go Canucks. Go Bollywood!!
The film begins. And it begins with a glorified music video, (a lot of Bollywood is glorified music videos). And it is LOUD. They crank it. The story’s not a very tough nut to crack, even in Hindi. Although we do have Miral to point out the finer subtleties of the humour. It’s loosely based on Three Men and a Baby. Three Indian dudes- swingin Hindu bachelors-live together in a swingin bachelor pad in Sydney, and they go out and swing most nights. Then a baby appears on the doorstep. Three men and a baby, they can’t handle it, diapers in faces, etc, and they finally leave it outside a church, until they think better of it, go to retrieve it, it’s dead from pneumonia, but the hospital miraculously revives it, and now they’re the 3 best daddies ever and they do a 3-daddy song and dance. Till mommy shows up. INTERMISSION!!
Yes, they have intermissions. Which I think is great. Any movie over two hours should have an intermission, (and this movie’s almost 3 hours). Anyway, after the intermission/pee break/popcorn refill there are more trailers (strange), and then it’s back to music-video land, our heroes trying to win babyy back from Once-Spurned Lover Mother, and with the help of much singing and dancing our number one dude (He Who Spurned) does finally win her (and babyy) back.
If you’re a fan of subtlety in film-making, then Bollywood is probably not for you. When it’s comedy (in Heyy Babyy anyway), it’s over-the-top slapstick with a PeeWee Herman kids-show soundtrack. But then when there’s drama, there is DRAMA. I have never seen so many shots of grown men crying. In my entire life. Put together. And oh! the slo-motions! Babyy’s hand leaving daddy’s in close-up (music swells); tear-stricken men r-u-n-n-i-n-g toward babyy after her first word, (Dada).. (music swells); a light that can only be God breaks through yonder hospital ward window after babyy’s life is spared (music is swollen).
Oh, the dizzying highs and terrifying lows. The masks of comedy and tragedy in a rainbow of brilliant colours. But what of the songs, you ask? Never fear, there was no shortage here. I counted at least five full-on music numbers complete with convincing lip-synching, dangerous dance-moves (often done by 50+ people at a time), and slick music-video smash cuts. (You will often see these videos, extracted straight from the movies, on Indian MTV).
Finally the last video-montage ends, the credits roll, I look at the time and it’s 1:30. AM. We got here at 10:30. That’s a long roller-coaster ride.
Anyway, I’m glad I went. It’s interesting to watch when other cultures attempt to emulate Hollywood, (and I’m not saying Bollywood is an Indian version of Hollywood- it’s obviously unique, but there are still many elements that try to do what Hollywood does). Witnessing this, you start to realize how contrived Hollywood really is, and how we’re all so blind to it. Pretty people with their world-sized problems, lots of tears and Good Acting and a score that deftly guides your emotions through the crescendos and diminuendos of the story. You realize how stupid it must look to someone who didn’t grow up on it when you see an Indian trailer that could easily be for the next Michael Bay classic, and yet somehow not. Something is missing; something is hard to believe. But come on, Tom Cruise is believable? We’re just used to him, that’s all. Star power. The next “role”. Anyway, I didn’t come all the way to India to write about Tom Cruise…