BOMBAY

[4.5]

The first Tamil language film I’ve seen, and only my second experience with Indian-style musical drama (after LAGAAN), BOMBAY is an incredibly powerful, captivating, and unique cinematic experience.  I remember LAGAAN to be a slick, well-executed historical drama in the manner of the best Hollywood epics. It was exciting, but not particularly soul-stirring. A popcorn flick with a nice underdog story.  BOMBAY is exactly the opposite. Director Mani Ratnam manages to combine so many disparate tones and techniques, making bold choices and tackling controversial subjects, all while keeping the emotions “real” and yet still entertaining. Even though BOMBAY deals with religious warfare and has plenty of violent, disturbing imagery, it isn’t an art film. With its spectacular music, lively dancing, and beautiful female star, it sits firmly in the mainstream mold of popular Indian cinema.  But it’s use of a Romeo/Juliet romance, while used in other movies to highlight religious tensions (I think there are several Israeli/Palestinian romances that play with this), is taken to epic extreme in the jarringly chaotic third act, through full-on rioting and bloodshed.  Just the fact that Ratnam is able to so deftly move the story from lush romantic-comedy to a terrifying warning against bigotry and a heartfelt plea for unity is a testament to his brilliant storytelling skills.  

The first hour of the movie moves rapidly from scene to scene, while also taking the time to build up the romance between the star-crossed lovers. The film wastes no time in setting up their meeting. Just one minute into the runtime, we see journalism student Shekhar get off a boat on his return to his hometown, where he spots a woman on the pier. A gust of wind sends her niqab flying, revealing her beautiful face. Shekhar is lovestruck. She’s a Muslim and he’s a Hindu, and though he knows their love will be frowned upon, he pursues her relentlessly. Though we may look askance at some of these scenes now, Ratnam plays up the humor of the pursuit. Because he can’t recognize the women under their veils, he tries to find his lover by matching her with her handbag. But she catches on and switches bags with her friend, just to be mischievous. When Shekhar approaches this woman and then removes her veil, revealing the wrong woman, he gasps in shame and apologizes profusely.  Later, he dresses up in a veil and sneaks aboard a boat full of women. Sitting next to his would-be lover, he gets mistaken for her friend. She quickly catches on, just before another of the women exclaims that the water is choppy and Shekhar better hold on to her tight. It’s a hilarious bit of action, this cat and mouse pursuit, but Ratnam doesn’t let it drag on. This climaxes in a wonderfully dramatic stormy scene amid ruins facing the choppy sea, where after the obligatory love song, Shekhar and his lover Shaila finally come together.  

Before too long, Shekhar and Shaila confess their interfaith love to their frustrated parents, who of course forbid it.  So the couple elope, running off to Bombay where they quickly get a courthouse wedding. There are some cute “country girl in the big city” jokes, such as when Shaila goes into far too much detail to a simple question by a blank-faced bureaucrat. But even in Bombay, some people don’t like the idea of their relationship, with their landlady clearly shocked to learn that Shaila wasn’t Hindu. In a scene that on paper would seem to be too corny to be effective, Shaila and Shekhar have to spend their wedding night with a group of children staying in the same room, so Shekhar sleeps on the bed, with Shaila on the floor, and the kids in between. Shekhar and Shaila whisper messages to each other and use the kids to pass the messages on in the most adorable game of telephone ever filmed. To Ratnam’s credit, the preciousness of this scene works, and it really is heart-warming. The film jumps ahead in time to after Shaila has had two boys (who are being raised in both faiths), and the couple’s fathers both show up at the house, ostensibly to apologize, but more likely in order to see their grandchildren. More hilarity ensues as these seemingly hard-headed in-laws begin fighting over the boys’ religion (with Shekhar’s dad dressing up the kids in Hindu clothing to taunt the other dad), before eventually tolerating and then respecting each other. It’s already fascinating how Ratnam has used the format of a romantic comedy to address issues of religious tolerance, but things turn dark quickly. In a brief montage, headlines blare the news of the destruction of the Babri Masjid (a famous mosque) by Hindu fundamentalists.  This is a big deal, and an actual event that Ratnam has incorporated into his story as a key plot point. The scenes of rioting and destruction that follow, depicting the mass protests and murders that shook India in 1993, are recreated in quite violent and terrifying detail, and it is astounding to think about this movie coming out a mere two years after these traumatic events.  

Caught off guard by the first round of riots, Shaila’s children, Kabir and Kamal, are alone in the market and rounded up by some masked rioters who scream at them, demanding to know if they are Muslim or Hindu. One rioter douses them in kerosene and tries desperately to get his lighter to work. Shekhar spots his children just in time and pounces on the masked men, freeing his children, just before a police officer shoots the rioters. These scenes are shockingly effective at kicking us out of the easy-going tone that has built up, much as the actual riots must have felt to many in Bombay who had no idea the level of religious anger and resentment that was brewing under the surface. And the event’s aftermath is not neglected either, with the children waking up crying from nightmares, screaming how they can feel themselves being lit on fire.  The city’s tensions seem to calm down for a bit, but when two victims of reprisal murder are found, the riots break out even worse than before. A Muslim mob sees Shekhar’s father leaving temple with his grandchildren (who quickly rub off their bindis), but just before they are able to attack, Shalia’s father rushes in and tells the mob that of course these people are Muslims.  He has effectively saved all of their lives.  Later, when Shekhar’s home is lit on fire, Shalia’s father is killed in an explosion and, in a heartbreaking detail, Shekhar’s father is only saved because he has rushed back to retreive Shalia’s father’s precious copy of the Koran. And in a plot device that would be annoyingly repetitive if not for the chaos of the scenes, Kabir and Kamal are once again separated from their parents in the riots, but this time Kamal is saved from the mobs by a kindly Hijra (India’s third gender). In another nod to the morality of tolerance and love, Ratnam depicts the Hijra as a hero, a smart and generous person even though society looks down on them. Shalia and Shekhar search desperately for their children, while the Hindu and Muslim religious leaders, who had earlier stoked the flames of hatred, now walk amidst the death and destruction and lament the violence. In the grand finale, we see Hindus protect Muslims and vice versa, leading to a song blaming politicians and leaders for manipulating people into hating each other. The crowd holds hands and sing a plea for peace and acceptance. 

I loved this movie. The rollercoaster of emotions is real, and even when the plot is so obviously geared toward getting a response (putting the children in harm’s way, TWICE), it works because we genuinely don’t know if they will make it out alive. Even though it’s not a “realistic” movie, Ratnam is not afraid of killing off characters, and it is this unexpected script writing that makes us fully invested in the reality of the story, despite the singing and dancing. But even in the conclusion, when the graphic depiction of riots is interrupted by the incongruous musical number, there is an earnest movie magic to it.  The acting is top-notch too, with Manisha Koirala deserving special praise for her ability to balance the obligations of her typical “beautiful romantic interest” role with the subtle but emotive reactions to the discrimination she faces and the pain she feels for her dead father and missing children.  The actors who play Shalia’s and Shekhar’s father are also fantastic, allowing us to initially be angry at them for their bigoted views, but then letting us see their change of heart as truly earned.  And Ratnam can certainly direct kids, as not only does he succeed in the scene I praised earlier involving the wedding night with a group of children, but the actors playing Kabir and Kamal are lively, funny, and completely natural.  This is a beautiful film that delivers it’s message elegantly through a captivating and compelling narrative. And the fantastic soundtrack is just an added bonus.