Did you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your timing? From the first moment I met you, your derivativeness made me realize you were the last movie in the world I could ever love. But I’ve come to make confession: you have bewitched me body and soul.

I entered the new Pride and Prejudice movie with extreme prejudice and exited a believer.

Nimbooda in a wig

As cultural crossover, the new flick has outdone Mira Nair: it’s the new Vanity Fair, it’s British Bollywood. It’s truer to the form than Bride and Prejudice, which was preoccupied with Stiff White Guy and tongue-in-cheek cultural mashup. Namely this: A family with five daughters must spend its time snaring men. One daughter’s elopement means utter family ruination. Musical interludes. Cheesy picturesque cliff scenes. Melodramatic mom. Full-on bawling. No kissing. Its own Johnny Lever. All it needed was an item number.

The producers were going for Gone With the Wind, but they ended up with Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. It’s the same Bollywood lighting, the same night scene with the romantic leads sitting before water, lit in gold. British group dances were like dandia raas and served the same virtuous end, hooking up the young’uns. The dance scene was like that amazing, flirty song in in HDDCS, ‘Aankhon Ki Gustakhiyan.’ Keira is sharper, Aishwarya prettier. Rai with that John-Cusack-lookalike-in-a-wig would have been ideal.

HDDCS was more emotional, but this was definitely lump-in-throat territory. I rarely see intelligent romantic sparring any more, the last was Clooney and Zeta in Intolerable Cruelty. And the gender role inversion at the end is delicious. The beseechers and hand-kissers are not whom you’d expect.

Elna Bannat and Dharsi sahib

This film left me misty-eyed despite the ’70s Bollycheese: the man walking through morning field in fog, a near-kiss with sunrise strategically positioned between the lips. It had showy, fluid camera work reminiscent of Brian De Palma. Its memorable piano theme was repeated in variations through the score, another Bollywood signature. Balle balle, they’ve out-Bollied Bolly! I rarely feel anything human in mainstream Hollywood flicks, they’re afraid of mashing the emotional buttons. This movie pulled me out of my life entirely.

Someone stop me before I play some South Park Chef.

Watch the trailer. Here’s the A. Lane review, less snarktastic than usual.

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