Bollywood's New Guru

Guru's hero, played by Abhishek, is named Gurukant Desai, and Ratnam has insisted that any similarities are coincidental: "The film is purely fictional and could be based on anyone's life." Sure, and Citizen Kane wasn't inspired by the life of William Randolph Hearst. Guru's plot frequently references Dhirubhai's life story. And unlike Kane, this movie dispenses with the muckraking for hagiography. The Ambani estate is protective of its founder's legacy, but at least two members of the family gave their blessing to Guru's stars: Dhirubahi's son Anil Ambani, chairman of Reliance Capital, attended the Ash-Abhishek engagement party with his wife, the former Bollywood actress Tina Munim.

Here's the basic story... Born in Gujurat, the son of a school teacher, Desai goes abroad as a teenager (heading for Istanbul, not Aden, where Dhirubhai landed) to learn business. He returns a decade later to start a textile company, in partnership with a more cautious cousin who later leaves in a dispute over our hero's risky ways. He switches from cotton to polyester and makes his fortune, creating India's biggest company, in part by encouraging the rising middle class to invest in it (tens of thousands flock to his shareholder meetings). He suffers a stroke that paralyzes his right hand, but his drive is unimpaired, his success unimpeded.

The film begins in the 90s, with the aged Gurukant in an empty stadium recalling his stern father's lack of faith in him. "'Don't dream. Dreams never come true,' my father would say. But I dreamt." (This is a paraphrase of Dhirubhai's maxim, "Only when you dream it can you do it," not to mention The Rocky Horror Show's "Don't dream it, be it.") We flash back to Gurukant's youth in a Gujurat village, then follow the mogul's progress, with some Bollywood embellishments: his marriage to Sujatha (Rai) — at first for her $25,000 dowry, then for love — and his fraternal devotion to a feisty crippled girl, Meenu (Vidya Balan), who will grow up to marry Shyam (Madhavan), the very muckraking reporter who's determined to bring Gurukant down.

In his 2hr.46min. film Ratnam lays out the story with cool assurance, making room for five Rahman songs, all worth further hearings. (I can't stop humming the wedding song, and don't want to.) Dance numbers aren't crucial to a Ratnam movie, but there are a few here anyway. Ash's big number is a compendium of Bollywood visual tropes (no, let's be honest and say cliches): she dances in the rain, through a temple, by a waterfall, moving with more energy than rhythm and getting whiplashed by her pigtail. Much more satisfying is an early turn in an Istanbul night club by Bollywood bombshell Mallika Sherawat. For her writhing, shimmying moment in the spotlight (she's out of the picture before the opening credits), Sherawat brings a visceral enlightenment to Guru in a dance number where she really gets to shake her bodhi.

To me, Ash's film eminence remains a mystery. No question she's pretty, but she's more an actress-model than a model actress. In Guru she's mainly ornamentation. For most of the film, Gurukant's and Sujatha's marriage is a montage of goodbyes (as he dashes off to cinch another deal) and hellos (as he returns in triumph or in peril). Their relationship has plenty of affection — "You shine as beautifully as polyester," he tells her fondly — but not much heat. Curiously, the movie's most intense, honest physical emotion is between Madhavan and Balan. Their kiss when he proposes to her carries a sock that's missing in the Ash-Abhishek scenes.