Going Bollywood

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Things are exciting onscreen too--though in these three-hour extravaganzas there's not much violence, no nudity, hardly even any kissing. Forced to sublimate, Bollywood taught itself to revel in full-blooded, full-throated drama. "The formula is essentially a family epic," says Mehta. "A family that breaks apart and then comes together. It's also the story of Partition." The partition of India and Pakistan, that is--but with vagrant, fragrant hope of union within diversity. A father denounces, then tearfully embraces his son (Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham). A group of 19th century peasants battle their Brit overlords in a game of cricket (Lagaan, nominated this year for an Oscar). A naive media star falls in love with a terrorist (many recent films have used this politically explosive plot device, including Mission Kashmir, for which Mehta collaborated on the script).

And in the midst of the starkest plot twists, everyone sings and dances. Virtually all Bollywood films are musicals. For 60 years, they have provided India with most of its hit songs (in effect, the movie industry is the music industry). And not just songs--immense production numbers. Dozens of chorus boys in leather and houris in saris frolic while the stars risk dislocating their shoulders and display '60s-style legwork not seen in the West since the Peppermint Lounge closed. The stars dance, but they don't sing. That's the job of "playback singers," unseen onscreen but famous on CDs. One playback diva, Lata Mangeshkar, has recorded some 50,000 songs in a 60-year career. (Sinatra, you slouch!)

The Bollywood masala--savory cultural stew--restores melodrama to its Greek-tragedy and Italian-opera roots: melody-drama, in which emotions too deep to be spoken must be sung. Imagine Julia Roberts in Erin Brockovich dancing around the utility company's lawyers while lip-synching a tune sung by Faith Hill, and you have a hint of the divine delirium that is Bollywood.

To see if this cinematic curry is to their taste, Americans should sample Sanjay Leela Bhansali's supersplendiferous Devdas, which opened last week in 33 U.S. theaters. Reportedly the priciest movie in Indian history, Devdas could be the most visually intoxicating film ever. Its pristine, gargantuan sets inebriate the eye, even as the plot--rich boy (Shahrukh Khan) loves poor girl (former Miss World Aishwarya Rai) and suffers magnificently for it--seems drunk on luscious masochism. The dialogue is ripe enough to provide song cues for nine fabulous dance numbers. But the fervid emotion and visual chic are what make the thing sing.

Perhaps Devdas and other Bollywood films won't mesh with our cultural prejudices. (All that singing! All that feeling! For three hours!?) Yet one can hope for an improbable, movie-style happy ending--that the next time Indian stars and directors come to America, they'll be picking up their prizes not at Bollywood's Awards, but at Hollywood's.

--Reported by Jyoti Thottam/New York