With [1] all that talk about Indian things, I went home that evening having this weirdly undecided urge — on the one hand, I wanted to connect with something back home, and on the other, I wanted to get away as far as possible. Usually, in moments like these, I pick the obvious middle path — do absolutely nothing. But the other evening I decided another middle path involving watching two movies, [2] Unbreakable and [3] Bend it like Beckham. The following are some thoughts.
Unbreakable was a lot less [4] retarded than Signs. Either that, or I am a much bigger fan of comic books than I am of crop circles, or Mel Gibson. To Unbreakable’s credit, it had a simple and quite brilliant musical theme. And it stayed just about constant throughout the movie — the same 7 or so notes. That was good. Unfortunately, extrapolating the curve that’s set up from the Sixth Sense through Signs all the way to The Village, I am quite certain The Village will absolutely suck.
On a more pleasant note, I absolutely adored Bend it like Beckham. It was, cute, funny, quite real and a lot more, all at the same time. I laughed. A lot. A couple of dialogues that struck me as particularly poignant. Both of the following are paraphrased, of course.
Women in a locker room in various states of undress: So Jess (the main character, Indian origin, female), what would your parents say if you brought home a white man?
Jess: Oh, no, it’s out of the question.
Jess: And a black, NO!
Jess: And a Muslim, DEFINITELY NOT!
————
Jess: I like Beckham.
Tony: (Male, Indian origin, main character’s good friend) I like Beckham too.
Jess: Yeah, no one can bend it like Beckham.
Tony: No, Jess, I really like him.
Jess: Uh, you mean?…
Jess: But you can’t be, you’re Indian.
Indian men can be gay. We’ve evolved to a point where we use PRODUCT IN OUR HAIR, but can’t possibly fancy other men?
pundit@emphaticallystatic.org
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