I did quite a few things this weekend, including overcoming the sore throat I had creeping around for three days. (Ha! Not sick after all!) However, the best thing, no contest, was Dil Bole Hidappa (Translation: My Heart Goes Hooray!) at the Castro. In short, it is about a remarkably skilled cricketer who is not allowed to play because she is a woman. But wait! With a little spirt glue and a fake beard, dreams can come true.
It's quite possible that musicals are not your thing. I understand that many people feel that way, it's just that I am not among them. Bollywood musicals are like regular musicals on drugs. I'm not too familiar with drugs, so I'm sorry not to be more specific, but think speed with some kind of "Wow those colors are so amazing. Do you think I could eat them?" component. So what is that? Cocaine and acid together? Something.
The plots are ridiculous and predictable. And I love them. The movies are usually about three hours long, the better to have more! dance! numbers! Dance numbers that are introduced by such lines as "Are you going to invite me to the harvest festival this year?" "Of course, my friend." Cut to harvest festival! Which is like an enormous Busby Berkeley extravaganza only with a better beat. The song is about having the disco people move aside because the traditional Indian dancing is so superior in every way. Which is exactly the song you would anticipate at a harvest festival.
Oh, the joy.
Of course, The Castro Theatre is also my favorite place in San Francisco, and being there for a sold-out movie, whatever it may be, never fails to make me happy. Still, sold-out Bollywood is a straight shot of elation. My heart went hooray.
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