Excuse My Incoherence.

I'm very very very happy. This is disclosed now because none of this will make much sense unless you know that. (One doubts how much sense it will make even when you do, but then I have an excuse for that, no?

Today I went to watch Kaminey with fireshowers and theotherrimi and, frankly, I do not ever recollect enjoying a film this much. The last two films I loved so much were Brokeback Mountain and The Dark Knight, both of which came with their own baggage, and neither of which, frankly, was this enjoyable.

This film took every cliche available (twins with single difference, premarital sex, bromance, mafia, corrupt cops, childhood sad backstory) and played it to the full, rubbed your face into the cliche, and made you love it. To say it in Bengali, "dhore tthuke diyechhe, boss".

And, speaking of Bengali, I <3, so much, the Bengali characters in it, not least because one is a local actor and the other a stage/theatre actor I have a long-standing crush on (Chandan Roy Sanyal, who was also Lysander in Tim Supple's Midsummer Night's Dream, and as, though very differently delicious), but also because the very Bangali dialogues and galagal came through so well. (I'm sure those who know Marathi will say the same, and I'm sad I don't understand the language because I missed a lot of the innuendoes). Because, boss, innuendoes there were so many of.

And just the sheer, happy-evil energy of the film was fucking overwhelming, okay. Mikhail (Chandan's character) I loved madly, what with the menace and the exuberance and the unabashed maleness of him, and of one the Shahid Kapur/Kapoor characters, Charlie, his partner-in-crime, and, one supposes, many other things. And, oh, god, ohgodohgodohgod, this song, however it may sound out of context, in context it makes you fucking well dance, which, yes, is what theotherrimi and I were actually doing in the hall. You can't help it, the boys are so fucking high on life and coke, and have, seriously, so little sense of personal space, and they're just so damn happy...

This is not to say that there's a happy ending or anything, it's all very real, down to the last snub at the turning-straight cliche (that is very equivocal and barbed, bosses). Nobody was OTT, nobody dressed and/or spoke in a way that was off, the dancing in the street was in-character, the baarat was fabulous (also, Priyanka Chopra is hot, I never realised this till now, but she's damn hot, and she's good, too, as an actress, not a combination always found.) The villains, the kamineys, as it were, were deliciously perfect, from Amol Gupte, (man, where were you hiding only?) to Rajatabho (guru, totally too cools) to the dude who played Tashi who I have googled and located as Tenzing Nima, but who had the lovely dialogue, 'why fight for no reason, am I America?'. The non-Charlie twin, Guddu, was also very much a kamina on a lower-key, and the Charlie version was fucking perfect. And Mikhail was totes <333.

Also, then we went and stuffed our faces and bitched, which also contributed to the happiness, but what.ever, dudes, that does not in any way detract from my sheer glee at this film, which I, swear to Krishna, am so going to own as soon as it comes out on VCD/DVD. Because, seriously, I wants my paws on it, yes, my preciousss, I doesss.

( I leaves you with posters, okay, beloveds? )

P.S.: Beloveds, this film, is the loveliest, most in-your-face thing I have ever seen. Also, Charlie/Mikhail are very very exuberantly and masculinely gay. (Mikhail, gun-toting, high-on-life, drunk, innuendo-spouting Mikhail, comes into a room full of gun-toting mafia who Charlie is trying to appease, and perches on a hammock, legs-crossed.) Also, I have never ever ever loved a girl in Bollywood cinema as much as I love Priyanka Chopra here as Sweetie, and I'm an inveterate lover of Kajol, who's always pretty in-your-face. But, she never shoots people in the face! And Sweetie does! And, ohmygod, Charlie names his betting stand 'Mikhail & Co.'! What a Hallam Tennyson (Hallam/Tennyson, hehe) move! eeee!

N.B: As I said to theotherrimi, on the auto-ride home, in a sudden fit of inspiration, Mikhail is basically Adam Lambert (c.f. paranthesis in P.S.)