Bollywood Possibilities

Oh, but for time shortage, I could have been something in Bollywood, I have been told. In 24 hours in the Colaba district of Mumbai, where most of the tourists have dreads or enormous fanny packs, I have been stopped seven times by very stylish Indian guys. "I am from Bollywood," they all say. And I say, "I am from California." They don't even blink. A rather persistent guy with platinum hair insisted that I would be able to make my flight this afternoon if I left right now to the studio, where I could stand around as an extra, learn to dance a little, make 1000 rupees, and then he would take me to the airport. Well, the dancing part is, of course, what ultimately turned me away from the gig.

Spending the last night in my swanky and clean hotel room, I had the opportunity to review the substance of a Bollywood film, even if I didn't understand the dialogue. It seems that they all start with a song and dance number, and the choreography of choice for the introductory madness seems to be something akin to Michael Jackson's Beat It moves. Unlike in the Beat It video, however, there is little concern for finding truly talented dancers as the pure multitude of people kicking up their legs more than makes up for whatever skills they may lack. After the frenzy of the first combative, mano-a-mano, dance-off of the movie, the pretty lead girl walks alone somewhere and inevitably bumps into the pretty lead boy with huge hair who doesn't help her when she drops her books or umbrella or purse or whatever. She glares at him; he smiles coyly. Ah, the stage is set for some hot, no kissing, romance!

The next dance number will usually come just after the boy and girl find that they truly want to kiss, but the closest they can get is touching noses or cheeks. As a former student of the social sciences (anthropology, to be precise), I think this dance routine symbolizes the first, highly anticipated, graceful love scene we anxiously anticipate in western movies. Whether that first passion is expressed through steamy groping or frisky frolicking, there is a great satisfaction to be had just watching the love interested gain ground on their conquest of the other. This love dance sequence is always reminiscent of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but with quite a bit of elbow shaking, like in the Funky Chicken. The girl and the boy do the Chicken really close to each other and then she finds someway to jump up onto his hip or shoulder. This part is usually in silohuette, because, as I said earlier, the talent may be lacking where the will to shake the tail feathers is not. Then, they almost kiss as the music fades.

I can't tell you about the finale, because I don't usually last through the following conflict, where both the boy and the girl and their families and friends cry and scream and hoot at each other. I would imagine that the last big hoorah would have more Beat It dancing, but with less dance-fighting and more dance-resolving. I bet it's like the last number in Grease, because that is the best dance movie ever.

Maybe someday, I will come back to find my way onto the Indian silver screen. I wonder if it's silver, actually, or maybe a little bit faded on the corners because of the heavy hand of the launderers here. You should see the women beat the crap out of their families' dirty clothes here. They do it against the rocks, you know. No silver screen in Hollywood could withstand that kind of abuse. The unions would certainly strike.