I overheard all the yuppy bitches oohing and ahhhing over the whole movie, and afterwards excitedly gabbing with their friends how fabulous it would be to have a wedding like that. Think about it, you could make a killing; hire real Indian people to throw your wedding, and pretend to be your family. Someone would make a fortune.
Enough about weddings though; what the hell am I talking about, this whole MOVIE was about a wedding. Two in fact. And you know, even a cynical, sex-addicted freak like myself loved it. The characters were all real and honest, colorful and with hidden faults and desires all their own. The heroine, Aditi, is a Cosmo-reading woman, about to marry an Indian computer engineer from Texas, arranged by her parents. She’s also still fooling around with her ex-boyfriend, a married TV producer.
As cute as Aditi was in her infidelity to her fiance, the real stars of the movie are the minor characters. Especially P.K. Dubey, the exuberant, rude wedding organizer. His wild ways are stopped when he meets and falls for the quiet servant of the Verma family, Alice. From his addiction to eating marigolds to his poor mother, desperate for her successful son to give her grandchildren, Dubey steals all the scenes he’s in. His proposal to Alice at the end is one of the sweetest and most sincere (not to mention hilarious) that I’ve ever seen.
Aditi’s little brother Varun was also simply fabulous. Obsessed with watching cooking show, dancing, and being a little over-weight, Varun was infinitely more interesting than most of his simple family.
The sub-plot of the bad bad Uncle being a bad bad man with little girls was easily not necessary. It contributed nothing to the film, except the feeling of familial solidarity at the end. He was just a bad bad man, and we didn’t need to see any of it.
What I could have used more of was the gorgeous saris and outfits. You can never have too many great outfits, and this family lives by that saying.
One thing that troubled me, was during the movie, the people were laughing at the oddest places. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were laughing at the fact that this well-to-do Indian family in New Delhi had a nice house, with TVs, cell phones, and large property. As if they believed that Indians who don’t live in dirt huts in the crowded city are silly figments of the writer’s imagination. Or perhaps they just thought that it was simply amusing to see these Indians trying to get a good signal with their cell phones. Maybe I just don’t get it. I don’t give a fuck.
Last, but not least, I would like to congratulate Mira Nair for her wonderful film of love and marriage in the rain. I know I for one am anxiously searching for her previous films at this very moment.