The hero, across the room, scratches his chin. At a reception, the heroine scratches her chin. Now comes a scene of such peculiar eroticism that you will have to take my word for it - it was sexy. I pull my sport coat up over my head, to shield myself from the ferocious blasts of air conditioning, and reflect that Doris Day stories are alive and well in There is an innocence in this pure entertainment that Hollywood has somehow lost. Soon after, she sings another song, while he watches, unobserved. He takes her photograph before they are hauled up by the pantaloon squad. So thrilled is the hero to have his hand held that he inadvertently pulls the heroine over with him, and both of them dangle at the end of the rope. "It is not right to touch the bride before marriage." "Yes, that is the excuse for holding hands," she says. The girl, who happens to find herself in the same high pasture, throws him a rope, and she and her two friends and a few of the guys in pantaloons pull the guy up to where he can grasp her hand, just like Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint in "North by Northwest." The boy wanders up to a high mountain pasture, loses his footing, and falls off.
#YOUTUBE TAAL MOVIE MOVIE#
In an American movie we would already be into the condom jokes.īack home, the family sits outside on lawn chairs, all facing the camera, while the father reads Fortune magazine. Not too poor to have backup singers and a chorus line when she sings to herself, I reflect. Two other beautiful women join her in a choreographed dance, and then 24 whirling dervishes with baggy silk pantaloons join in. Totally unaware that the hero is watching her, she sings a song for - well, for nobody in particular, I guess, since she is unaware. The actress is Aishwarya Rai, and she was voted Miss World. The hero wanders around, and sees the most beautiful woman in the world. His mother, who has hair like an American rockabilly star, wants him to get married. When he arrives home, his father can barely be bothered to look up from the Economic Times newspaper. He stands on a mountain top and breathes the air of home, and then leaps off and slides halfway down the mountain, just out of joy. The son from America ( Akshaye Khanna) wears blue jeans, a baseball cap, and a backpack. The father is that man with the very deep voice. Uma translates for me: "This is a rich family. It's in Hindi, although the characters occasionally switch to English, which is the only language spoken in every part of India. This is a warm climate but I have learned to bring a jacket to every screening. The sound thunders from the speakers, and blasts of Arctic air roar from the ventilation system. Every theater I have visited in India advertises stereo and air conditioning, and is at pains to demonstrate that it has both.
Higher and higher we climb, looking ruefully at a disabled escalator, until we reach heaven-seats that cost 30 rupees, or about 75 cents. We go into a lobby that stretches in every direction as far as marble can reach. "Those names are for the director and the musical director."
"The stars are so famous they don't even put their names on the posters," Uma tells me. Narsing Rao, a tall and friendly man who Uma describes as a director, painter, poet and playwright. I have learned that it means, "Yes, probably, but one never knows." She makes that distinctive Indian head movement that is not a shake nor a nod, but a sort of circular combination of both. "But.you said the theater was half an hour away, and the show starts at nine," I said. It is 8 p.m. "We will stop on the way and get a bite to eat," says an actress who is on the festival jury.
That evening we are sitting in the buffet area of the Holiday Inn Krisha, making plans to attend the Bollywood production “Taal,” one of the biggest hits of recent years.
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