Why Not Fly For One Night?

Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India, 2005. Written and directed by Ashutosh Gowariker, music by Padmashree A. R. Rahman, lyrics by Padmashree Javed Akhtar. Featuring the incredible talents of Aamir Khan, Gracy Singh, and Rajesh Vivek (and a cast of literally thousands); and also starring the mediocre, scene-chewing likes of Brits Rachel Shelley & Paul Blackthorne.

Playing tonight at the U of M’s Nolte Center, Room 125, at 7:00. Sponsored by the Institute for Advanced Study and the Asian American Studies department.

Bollywood: “Refers to the burgeoning film industry of India, the world’s biggest film industry, centered in Bombay (now Mumbai); the etymology of the word: from Bo(mbay) + (Ho)llywood; unlike Hollywood, however, Bollywood is a non-existent place.” —Cinematic Terms

Once upon a time, musicals were the pride and joy of Hollywood. From the 1930s through the 1950s, with only a short break for the big war, the moguls in SoCal were pumping out these candy-colored dreamworlds nearly every month. Although there was plenty of garbage, filmgoers of the time were also treated to some magnificent works of art: Robert Mamoulian’s delightful fable Love Me Tonight; the Fred Astaire wonders; the nostalgic and sometimes creepy Meet Me In St. Louis; and my personal favorites, the athletic films of Gene Kelly, from On the Town to An American In Paris, to the greatest musical of all, Singin’ in the Rain. I can literally watch many of these films two and three times at a sitting, and every time I leave them I find myself stepping along to their friendly beat. When I was a child I saw both Superman and Singin’ in the Rain on the big screen; unlike my pals, I didn’t want to be Superman, I wanted to be Donald O’Connor. Same thing, really, for they were both flying.

On the big screen, we don’t have much to dance about nowadays. The genre has fallen and fallen hard. Musicals from the 60s to the present day don’t stand up to the test of time (and, yes, I’m including the so-called classics like Cabaret, Chicago and Moulin Rouge). Today’s musicals are soulless, corporate garbage, or they’re aimed at the adult Broadway crowd, or they’re the Disney crap for children and brain-dead grown-ups, sung by Elton John and Phil Collins. I could come up with a dozen theories as to why musicals “don’t work” anymore: we’re too cynical, the stars are too much with us now, innocence lost, etc., etc. For the longest time it depressed me to think that we’re not going to see their likes ever again.

But there’s a whole galaxy of musicals coming from the heart of the Indian subcontinent, spinning into the universe of DVD (and available, with subtitles and letterboxes, at Netflix, or your local Indian market). These are the Bollywood films, lengthy historical and romantic musicals with handsome and wholesome heroes, beautiful heroines, dastardly villains, and show-stopping numbers. I give you one of the best, the only Bollywood film ever to be nominated for an Academy Award: Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India. That it is showing tonight on the big screen only heightens its appeal.

The facts: in the middle of the 19th century, a small village is suffering through a drought, barely able to feed themselves, when they are told that they have to pay double lagaan, or tax. This is imposed by a towering ruffian of a Brit, the menacing Captain Russell (played with dastardly verve by Paul Blackthorn). Russell’s a fellow with a permanent scowl and a long moustache that I was just praying he would twirl in his gloved hand. The villagers approach the Rajah, who is forced to work with the British government (and, specifically, the antagonist), and ask for a reprieve from the tax. In the process, the Brit is insulted by our hero, the young, handsome, and headstrong Bhuvan (the charmer Aamir Khan). There’s a wager: if this ragtag village can beat the crack British club at a cricket match, there will be no taxes for three years.

Sounds corny? As corny as three sailors in NYC hoping to meet Miss Turnstiles on the subway and get a date in On the Town. As ridiculous as the stories in Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, Brigadoon, and even An American In Paris, which doesn’t really have a plot. In Lagaan’s nearly four hours (!), there’s romance (a rivalry of sorts between the girl who loves Bhuvan and a British woman who also falls in love with him), praying for rain and victory, accepting the poor Inidan untouchable and the Muslim on the team, and learning about cricket (which is damned weird sport). All the while the lucky viewer is treated to these great songs and some nifty choreography. Though Lagaan can’t approach the mastery of a Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire film, it matches their energy frame for frame, and completely eclipses such dead works as Rent and The Producers, which I can’t imagine inspiring anyone.

Bollywood films are notoriously wholesome–there’s not even a kiss exchanged. Privately, I was imagining myself gyrating with either female lead. But I’m here to tell you that can’t take all the underclad inmates of Chicago and make them as sexy as the village girls of “Lagaan”. Bumping shoulders never seemed so erotic.

Because of this sexy innocence, and despite its running time, this is a great kids film. You can take your children to see tripe like Superman Returns, Talladega Nights (I hope not) or even Cars, and I doubt you’re going to give them the thrills Lagaan did for our crew last summer, when I saw it for the first time. The evening after Lagaan–and for days afterward–the children who watched it with us danced around the living room with scarves, not in celebration of the rain (as in the film), but in celebration of the approaching lunch of macaroni and cheese. The adults even spun around with them at times.

Ultimately, Lagaan is great fun, which is the backbone of the best musicals. Like poetry, musicals connected to a rhythm, to music, and they tell us that our best–and worst–moments are heightened by this song and dance. I’ve heard all the arguments against Bollywood: that the ‘average viewer’ (whomever they are) won’t warm up to the subtitles, to the length, to the musical in general. Different cultures, different tastes, etc. But I don’t believe any of that. Critics who are willing to waste time and space on Little Miss Sunshine and Beerfest scoff at the Indian film industry. You’re telling me that those films are better for us than Lagaan (or any of the mediocre Indian musicals)?

One night that summer, around dusk, I was playing cricket Frisbee in the park with the kids, to the tune of “Chale Chalo”. While we were trying our best to sing in Hindi, I couldn’t help but wish that the Bollywood phenomena was spreading to the American market. When I was a kid I was both playing with yardstick lightsabers as Darth Vader and spinning myself around lightpoles in the rain as Don Lockwood. That evening the kids were doing the same. With the Bollywood musical you get nothing but music, simple plots, good songs, and no violence, explosions, or special effects. The movie had kept us riveted and then made us play. Later, it followed us into our sleep, and we woke with the tunes on our lips.


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