fox

mumbai, india

it simply must be described. the 'when in rome' adage has led me to do, or especially eat and drink, some crazy things, but never has an activity so pedestrian packed such a punch. what could this be? i went to a bollywood movie in the epicenter of bollywood at the regal cinema. for those of you who may never get this experience, the following is a summary of two hours in air-conditioning, piecing together the plot of a film almost entirely in hindi. i now present to you, deepak tijori's 'fox'.

the plot
arjun kapoor has it all: the beautiful girl, skyrocketing success as a criminal defense attorney, the mumbai penthouse and flashy sportscar, and the ability to pull off a semi-mullet. but his conscience gets the better of him after an old, sari-clad lady screams at him and spits on his shoes outside of the courthouse (my guess is she was the mother of a victim killed by one of his clients). in a riveting scene of scotch-induced self-reflection, we see that arjun can no longer defend the sleek, handsome man who always wears ascots. he has to leave. so he gives it all away, takes to the road, and opts for the simple life in goa.

simple life indeed. he grows his mullet into male heartthrob length hair (like tom cruise's character in magnolia) and passes his time between his sailboat and art nouveau beachfront mansion. once an old man seeks and gains his friendship, we see that fortuna has more in store for arjun. the old man has a manuscript that will 'change his life' (that phrase was said in english, clearly for my benefit). arjun reads and loves the crime thriller, 'fix the fox', but the old man (coincidentally) dies during the night. arjun takes the manuscript to a publishing house where a vivacious, leggy editor agrees to take a look. the sexual tension could be cut with a khanda.

the book is published and enjoys astronomical success. arjun's first love interest finds him and they enjoy a few cutesy scenes that involve kitchen flirtation and her wearing his oversized shirts. however, the captain of the goan 'crime lab' (not making that up) receives a tip and it turns out (dun dun dun) that the murders and characters in the novel are from a real case. arjun is jailed and must rely on his heroine to do the legwork on the outside. it is not until we see a choreographed group dance-off between the sexy editor and the guy with the ascot that we can tell they've been in cahoots the whole time (the way that they say 'dance to the music' is so sinister.....yet so sizzling). the old man, the murders, and even the initially benevolent seeming goan police captain are all apart of an ending that will want for nothing and expose everything, except for kissing on the lips, of course.

reasons to love this picture
1. there are not one, not two, but three reading montages (3!), the music for each being some fusion of electronica. the first has arjun reading the manuscript through the night, occasionally changing position in the bed or brushing his flowing mane back with aplomb, spliced with the bedside clock indicating the elapsing of time. the second montage features beach denizens devouring copies of 'fix the fox', the printing press struggling to produce enough copies, and images of the sexy editor's boss screaming with elation at the book's success. the third is similar to arjun's, but it features the 'crime lab' boss reading a copy at his desk with a tense, furrowed look as the minutes glide past on his office clock.

2. it is well known that westerners can easily find spots as extras in bollywood films. what was so funny was how obvious and out of place these extras were in fox. primarily at the party where arjun celebrates his success, but also in line to get arjun's autographs, were a number of western tourists. the seriousness of some tense scenes was easily diluted by seeing mop-headed gap year kids (obviously passing through to goa for a month of getting stoned) prominently screened behind the protagonists.

decorum
in a theatre that seated into the hundreds but was filled into the forties, it was important not to move from my assigned seat (showed to me by the usher with flashlight). after you stand for the indian national anthem (it's preferred that you sing), anything goes. receiving a call on your cell phone? answer it! got something to say to your neighbor or nobody in particular? scream it!

i will be going to another movie in delhi, mark my words.


call center etiquette
in passing from bangalore to hampi, i met a young man on the railway platform who started chatting with me. he had worked for a call center for a year or so and told me that he talked to a lot of americans on the phone. what disconcerted me is he said that out of ten calls, one or two will be nice, while six or seven will use 'slang'. after a couple minutes, i realized that slang meant swearing. it was highly embarrassing to talk with this skinny, sweetfaced, innocent indian young man and realize that people from my country verbally trash him because they're having a problem with their kenmore. time for u.s. america to grow up.

cricket
the only sport i have ever watched that is even more boring after you learn about it.

my chapati doesn't taste the same
.....the jasmine doesn't smell so sweet and the sound of the waves gently lapping against the shore is not what it used to be. let me explain. inside that man who looks like he professionally participates in civil war reenactments; inside that man who cannot fit into the internet cafe with shoulders squared and head unducked; inside that man who was screaming profanity-laced invective at a 13" computer monitor at 7 am this past monday, is a boy. this is the boy that knew beaches in the summer, skiing in the winter, and a great family with a terrific dog. he also knew that when the university of colorado played football, they would field a competitive team. the boy and the man (cause really, are they ever different?) remember darian hagan pitching to eric bienemy. they remember charles johnson's speed, matt russel's tenacity, and christian fauria's hands of glue. they remember a miracle in michigan and a clipping call that gave the buffs (and one ten-year old little dude) a national championship.

so then the question must be asked: what the fuck was that? all summer i read about how the buffs were going to develop the run, have a solid d, and make a serious effort at a big-12 title, only to walk over to a cybercafe after my train arrived and witness them lose thoroughly to colorado state. a fucking mountain west school. complete, utter, absolute shit. i have been patient. i've sat through the past few seasons and told myself to calm down, reassured myself that everything will get better. there is no more time for that. just once in my adult life, i would like to watch the buffs play a meaningful game in november. just once would i like to see the gameday crew in boulder, giving serious airtime to discussion about my team and national title contention. if you can't do it for the boy (or the man), at least do it for the dog: punkin really was terrific.