She’s Gotta Have It
In Bollywood Dreams, what a girl wants is what we get.
BY GREGORY WEINKAUF
If someone had told me that there’s a movie musical about a bobblehead wannabe actress who believes that fame will
complete her life -- and that I’d like it -- I’d have told them, rather blankly, that they were…interesting (cruel word:
“interesting”). But that would be prior to viewing Bollywood Dreams, an ecstatic and effervescent paean to the dreamer,
dancer and romantic in us all. Featuring giddy and exciting choreography set to truly catchy tunes, lensed and edited with
the energetic fluidity of the very dreams it suggests, and wrapped around a tale of youthful romance, it’s the sort of
movie that could well extract from me a phrase such as “tour de force.”
Our bobblehead girl is Mili (firecracker Urmila Matondkar, currently playing scary games in Naina), and we open with
her prancing through the streets of Mumbai, cooing, “Let’s dance -- Let’s set off a storm together!” The song is all
about being “full of colour” (or Rangeela, the film’s initial title), and director Ram Gopal Varma and his impressive art
director R. Verman do not disappoint. In delirious leaps of non-continuity ideal for such scenes (there are many here, and
they keep getting better as the movie rolls along), Mili hops from one disparate group of mild-mannered citizens to
another, setting them off; she's a human insta-rave and strong contender for what must be described as (let’s see, how
to put this succinctly) the most adorably bouncy pelvis in modern cinema (and she knows it).
What quickly unfolds is that Mili’s world is not all song and dance -- not yet. She’s got a very charming, middle-class
family (Achyut Potdar and Reema Lagoo are very likeable as, respectively, her vaguely hopeful father and mother;
meanwhile actor Suman as her slacker brother Motilal helps curb her enthusiasm), and she’s only near stardom in the
sense that she’s a support dancer for an espionage musical starring action superstar Raj Kamal (Jackie Shroff). (Side
note: Those whose tastes for spy thrillers lean no further than James Bond -- and indeed, Kamal’s franchise here is called
“Mr. Bond” -- may wish to investigate Anil Sharma’s Bollywood espionage epic The Hero, which is essentially a Hindi
Bond flick wherein characters sometimes break into song and start dancing; works for me.) Essentially, Mili feels that
she’s stationed far below her level of talent (a scenario many will grok) and yet what makes her really relatable (a fine
word one of my moronic former “editors” once sternly tried to tell me does not exist) is that, unlike most wannabe
actresses, she does not lazily deny but rather acknowledges the complexity of the business, and the aggressive (and very
often moronic) politics associated with the creative process, as well as with humanity in general.
The same cannot be said of her primary romantic foil, Munna, (Aamir Khan, star of the arthouse hit Lagaan), who may
be described by many as a “street-urchin” but could be better defined as a “punk-ass.” While not technically a bad guy,
he’s a right jerk of a fellow -- a liar, thief, ticket-scalper, egotist, really bad dresser (his model appears to be based on an
amalgamation of Freddie Mercury and George Michael on their less tasteful days) and (worst of all) kicker of seats at the
cinema. Yet the character is infused with so much essence of Dickens’ Artful Dodger (Jack Wild fans may dig this
portrayal), that it’s tough not to like him (apart from the damned seat-kicking, for which he must die). This funky punk
is something of a departure for Khan, and he and Matondkar frequently play tug-of-war, stealing the show from each
other -- great fun, introduced early via a competitive song wherein each shamelessly unfurls their core philosophy (the
essence of his is: “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”; and hers: “Don’t Be Stupid.”)
The frenetic interplay between these two makes for infectious enjoyment, and they’re both excellent singers and dancers
(they even dance with their eyes!), quite reminiscent of Newton-John and Travolta in Grease. In fact, Westerners fond
of films ranging from West Side Story to Grease to Moulin Rouge! will delight in this gem. Those secret enthusiasts of
underground media extravaganzas such as Shock Treatment and The Apple may also dig it. And woven through as it is
with the tricky themes of show-biz, it’s even a worthy successor to Singin’ In The Rain. For Bollywood neophytes (my
hand is up), Bollywood Dreams delivers a fine and easily accessible bridge to an enormous and scintillating “alternative”
cinema. (That this joyful musical was created around the time of maximum saturation of pointless and aggressively
redundant Western spoilt-brat "grunge" makes it all the more noteworthy and attractive.)
For director Varma it’s also apparently something of a soulful breakthrough, as his reputation indicates a long-standing
envy for the bullying empire known as Hollywood. By directly revealing his feelings here, he only adds to the veracity of
his local characters and portrayals. Sure, a clownish Charlie Chaplin imitator (with iffy break-dancing skills) pops up
right at the beginning, and a producer later shouts out, “To hell with Spielberg!” -- however, for every clichéd goof like a
movie hotshot in a bad toupee or a combined hissy-fit thrown by an actress and her stage-mother (exclaims the onscreen
director: “Would Julia Roberts’ mother ever treat Spielberg like I’ve been treated?!” -- Wha?), Varma nonetheless zeroes
in on his personal truth: That he’s frustrated by the Bollywood industry and wants to make a breakout film. Happily, by
foisting his personal baggage onto us along with all the instantly relatable dancin’ and romancin’, he succeeds.
As for the narrative itself, it is decidedly light, suggestive rather than overtly rich. Not too surprisingly, Mili gets her shot
at stardom. More surprisingly, she initially fluffs it, but Munna steps in -- as young men are wont to do when finally
exhausted and given the chance -- and helps her to learn her lines properly. Her brief failure isn’t at all plausible (a
hotheaded performer like her gets stage-fright?), but the growth in understanding between the two moves the plot along
nicely. And then, of course, things get stickier…
A love-triangle develops (of course), with wealthy and sexy actor Kamal (or, “Kamalji”). Starstruck by both him and
herself, Mili begins the expected canoodling process (and the two have some giddy and sultry numbers together in wild
locales). “Give your love to someone; Enjoy her love; That’s the best thing in the world,” Mili sings, and it’s difficult to
argue with that. What is less convincing is the romantic interplay. Munna, aided by his funny buddy Prakash or “Pakya”
(played with gleeful bits of business by Rajesh Joshi) makes a fool of himself in various ways, as expected. However,
Kamal, despite being a big star and having major hots for half-his-age Mili, is not actually a jerk at all, but rather a truly
kind and sympathetic character whose greatest “flaw” is wanting to build a house on a pretty stretch of beach. The way
in which Mili chooses between her suitors -- and the decision she makes -- creates a startling rift from reality and lands
the movie firmly in the realm of wishful thinking, of fantasy.
But apart from that, plus some shots in the opening number of little kids taking large guns away from armed soldiers and
turning them upon them -- kids with guns are better than adults with guns? -- there is almost nothing to bicker about in
Bollywood Dreams. It’s a sweet and deceptively simple romance, an excellent musical, a lovely introduction to the genre
for those who seek it, and a telling portrait of pop culture’s many parallels and differences around the world.
Bollywood Dreams
Entertainment Value: 12/13
Style: 10/13
Philosophical Insight: 10/13
-Gregory Weinkauf, 24 July, 2005
In Bollywood Dreams, what a girl wants is what we get.
BY GREGORY WEINKAUF
If someone had told me that there’s a movie musical about a bobblehead wannabe actress who believes that fame will
complete her life -- and that I’d like it -- I’d have told them, rather blankly, that they were…interesting (cruel word:
“interesting”). But that would be prior to viewing Bollywood Dreams, an ecstatic and effervescent paean to the dreamer,
dancer and romantic in us all. Featuring giddy and exciting choreography set to truly catchy tunes, lensed and edited with
the energetic fluidity of the very dreams it suggests, and wrapped around a tale of youthful romance, it’s the sort of
movie that could well extract from me a phrase such as “tour de force.”
Our bobblehead girl is Mili (firecracker Urmila Matondkar, currently playing scary games in Naina), and we open with
her prancing through the streets of Mumbai, cooing, “Let’s dance -- Let’s set off a storm together!” The song is all
about being “full of colour” (or Rangeela, the film’s initial title), and director Ram Gopal Varma and his impressive art
director R. Verman do not disappoint. In delirious leaps of non-continuity ideal for such scenes (there are many here, and
they keep getting better as the movie rolls along), Mili hops from one disparate group of mild-mannered citizens to
another, setting them off; she's a human insta-rave and strong contender for what must be described as (let’s see, how
to put this succinctly) the most adorably bouncy pelvis in modern cinema (and she knows it).
What quickly unfolds is that Mili’s world is not all song and dance -- not yet. She’s got a very charming, middle-class
family (Achyut Potdar and Reema Lagoo are very likeable as, respectively, her vaguely hopeful father and mother;
meanwhile actor Suman as her slacker brother Motilal helps curb her enthusiasm), and she’s only near stardom in the
sense that she’s a support dancer for an espionage musical starring action superstar Raj Kamal (Jackie Shroff). (Side
note: Those whose tastes for spy thrillers lean no further than James Bond -- and indeed, Kamal’s franchise here is called
“Mr. Bond” -- may wish to investigate Anil Sharma’s Bollywood espionage epic The Hero, which is essentially a Hindi
Bond flick wherein characters sometimes break into song and start dancing; works for me.) Essentially, Mili feels that
she’s stationed far below her level of talent (a scenario many will grok) and yet what makes her really relatable (a fine
word one of my moronic former “editors” once sternly tried to tell me does not exist) is that, unlike most wannabe
actresses, she does not lazily deny but rather acknowledges the complexity of the business, and the aggressive (and very
often moronic) politics associated with the creative process, as well as with humanity in general.
The same cannot be said of her primary romantic foil, Munna, (Aamir Khan, star of the arthouse hit Lagaan), who may
be described by many as a “street-urchin” but could be better defined as a “punk-ass.” While not technically a bad guy,
he’s a right jerk of a fellow -- a liar, thief, ticket-scalper, egotist, really bad dresser (his model appears to be based on an
amalgamation of Freddie Mercury and George Michael on their less tasteful days) and (worst of all) kicker of seats at the
cinema. Yet the character is infused with so much essence of Dickens’ Artful Dodger (Jack Wild fans may dig this
portrayal), that it’s tough not to like him (apart from the damned seat-kicking, for which he must die). This funky punk
is something of a departure for Khan, and he and Matondkar frequently play tug-of-war, stealing the show from each
other -- great fun, introduced early via a competitive song wherein each shamelessly unfurls their core philosophy (the
essence of his is: “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”; and hers: “Don’t Be Stupid.”)
The frenetic interplay between these two makes for infectious enjoyment, and they’re both excellent singers and dancers
(they even dance with their eyes!), quite reminiscent of Newton-John and Travolta in Grease. In fact, Westerners fond
of films ranging from West Side Story to Grease to Moulin Rouge! will delight in this gem. Those secret enthusiasts of
underground media extravaganzas such as Shock Treatment and The Apple may also dig it. And woven through as it is
with the tricky themes of show-biz, it’s even a worthy successor to Singin’ In The Rain. For Bollywood neophytes (my
hand is up), Bollywood Dreams delivers a fine and easily accessible bridge to an enormous and scintillating “alternative”
cinema. (That this joyful musical was created around the time of maximum saturation of pointless and aggressively
redundant Western spoilt-brat "grunge" makes it all the more noteworthy and attractive.)
For director Varma it’s also apparently something of a soulful breakthrough, as his reputation indicates a long-standing
envy for the bullying empire known as Hollywood. By directly revealing his feelings here, he only adds to the veracity of
his local characters and portrayals. Sure, a clownish Charlie Chaplin imitator (with iffy break-dancing skills) pops up
right at the beginning, and a producer later shouts out, “To hell with Spielberg!” -- however, for every clichéd goof like a
movie hotshot in a bad toupee or a combined hissy-fit thrown by an actress and her stage-mother (exclaims the onscreen
director: “Would Julia Roberts’ mother ever treat Spielberg like I’ve been treated?!” -- Wha?), Varma nonetheless zeroes
in on his personal truth: That he’s frustrated by the Bollywood industry and wants to make a breakout film. Happily, by
foisting his personal baggage onto us along with all the instantly relatable dancin’ and romancin’, he succeeds.
As for the narrative itself, it is decidedly light, suggestive rather than overtly rich. Not too surprisingly, Mili gets her shot
at stardom. More surprisingly, she initially fluffs it, but Munna steps in -- as young men are wont to do when finally
exhausted and given the chance -- and helps her to learn her lines properly. Her brief failure isn’t at all plausible (a
hotheaded performer like her gets stage-fright?), but the growth in understanding between the two moves the plot along
nicely. And then, of course, things get stickier…
A love-triangle develops (of course), with wealthy and sexy actor Kamal (or, “Kamalji”). Starstruck by both him and
herself, Mili begins the expected canoodling process (and the two have some giddy and sultry numbers together in wild
locales). “Give your love to someone; Enjoy her love; That’s the best thing in the world,” Mili sings, and it’s difficult to
argue with that. What is less convincing is the romantic interplay. Munna, aided by his funny buddy Prakash or “Pakya”
(played with gleeful bits of business by Rajesh Joshi) makes a fool of himself in various ways, as expected. However,
Kamal, despite being a big star and having major hots for half-his-age Mili, is not actually a jerk at all, but rather a truly
kind and sympathetic character whose greatest “flaw” is wanting to build a house on a pretty stretch of beach. The way
in which Mili chooses between her suitors -- and the decision she makes -- creates a startling rift from reality and lands
the movie firmly in the realm of wishful thinking, of fantasy.
But apart from that, plus some shots in the opening number of little kids taking large guns away from armed soldiers and
turning them upon them -- kids with guns are better than adults with guns? -- there is almost nothing to bicker about in
Bollywood Dreams. It’s a sweet and deceptively simple romance, an excellent musical, a lovely introduction to the genre
for those who seek it, and a telling portrait of pop culture’s many parallels and differences around the world.
Bollywood Dreams
Entertainment Value: 12/13
Style: 10/13
Philosophical Insight: 10/13
-Gregory Weinkauf, 24 July, 2005
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