Lo! Across rainless acres parched by drought swaggers Captain Russell, a Machiavellian British fop, to the ascot born, with his Freddie Mercury overbite and muttonchops. "You tea drinkers!" a native hisses, for this is colonial India, 1893. The Captain smirks, then challenges the townsfolk to cricket. If the English win, land tax is tripled. If the villagers win, the tithe is erased. Now farmer Bhuvan, righteous dreamboat of the populists, rises up to defy his oppressor. Now wistful Elizabeth twirls her parasol, while plucky maiden Gauri simpers and pouts. Cut to a glittery song-and-dance extravaganza, all kaleidoscopic, choreographed confection. Viva Bollywood, Bombay's Hindi movie cosmos, the biggest film industry... More >>>