Indian Sweets and Spices is the first feature by Geeta Malik.
Malik may have been brought up in Colorado, but her background is entirely Indian, and this film is the old story of someone like her trying to juggle two cultures.
But while the cast, writer and director are almost entirely of Indian descent – including Bollywood superstar Manisha Koirala as the mother Sheila Kapur – all the producers and most of the crew aren’t. And that may explain a certain disparity in tone.
Photo: Screenshot
Films about Indian families for Western audiences – I’m thinking of comedies like Bend it like Beckham, Monsoon Wedding and the rest – are often about negotiating very specific rules of behaviour.
There are things you can mention, there are things you can’t. The pressure is on to either be a successful professional or marry one.
In other words, they have a lot in common with the equally mannered novels of Jane Austen – in fact there was an Indian version of Austen’s greatest hit called Bride and Prejudice,
This particular variation sees Alia – the Lizzie Bennett character – home from college in Los Angeles and back to suburban Ruby Hill, ruled by her snobby mother.
Every weekend there’s another party, hosted by another Ruby Hill Indian hostess.
The parties are all roughly the same – young people are seen but not heard, fathers talking about business and their golf swing, and the dreaded aunties gossiping and bad-mouthing each other.
One day – yes, the plot is finally on its way – Alia is sent to the local convenience store, the ‘India Sweets and Spices’, to pick up the many biscuits needed to make an Indian party go with a swing. And there she sees Varun.
Varun’s family has just bought the shop, and they know no-one in town. Alia gets a rush of blood to the head and invites them to the next party. What can she be thinking?
Her mother gets up on her high horse, but the damage is done. Varun and his parents arrive, looking uncomfortable. Until his mother, Bhairavi, looks across the crowded room and recognizes Sheila. They went to university in Delhi together.
However, Sheila would prefer not to be reminded of those days.
Alia is bewildered. Bhairavi’s memories of her mother are nothing like her own experiences. Has Mum got hidden depths? And what about Dad? He’s clearly covering up his own secrets and lies.
On top of everything, will Alia be bullied into an arranged marriage, or will she remain with poor but glamorous Varun? Pride or prejudice? Sense or sensibility?
All right, when I said films like Indian Sweets and Spices owe something to Jane Austen, I don’t want to raise anyone’s hopes. It also owes a lot to American soaps and romcoms, with its easy cracks at suburban hypocrisy.
But just as Jane Austen appeals to a wider audience than simply students of Nineteenth Century rural England, films like this are likely to reach anyone with an immigrant background, trying to reconcile their lives with that of their parents.
And of course, the old Mills and Boon staple – rich girl, poor boy – is unlikely to go out of fashion any time soon.
Go to Indian Sweets and Spices for the frocks and the food, stay for the attractive performances and the Bollywood guarantee of a happy ending.
