Just when you think she never has a bad time, our girl about town Jenny Block surprises you. She went to the Music Hall to see Bombay Dreams, and to say she didn’t like it is the understatement of the year. Read on.
Bombay Dreams was awful. I don’t know how to put it any more gently. It was terrible, from the music to the sets to the “plot.” So many people left at intermission that we could have sat anywhere we liked for the second act. But it wouldn’t have mattered where we sat. This debacle would have been bad from any angle.
The preposterous plot included a transvestite (eunuch) named Sweetie who was in love with the leading man, Akaash. He/she even sang a duet with the girl who was also in love with Akaash, Priya, who by the way falls in love with Akaash only seconds after declaring how much she dislikes him. At the end, Priya saves the day by karate kicking the gun out of the bad guy’s hands, and Sweetie gets shot and killed. I didn’t even care.
Then there’s Kitty, who is supposed to be an E! host kind of character. She was just dreadful. Not funny. Not kitschy. Just dreadful. In the middle of this party scene she started singing about how you have to get plastic surgery to “stay in the game.” It could not have been any more out of context.
And oh, the dancing. It was painful, and some of the show was downright pornographic, with fountains spurting and girls in wet saris dancing around. I get that it was all supposed to be some sort of reflection of Bollywood. But it wasn’t funny or clever or smart. It was cheesy. In the bad way.
If my review sounds scattered, I’m not surprised. The show was a scattering of sequins and water and bad dancing, singing, choreography, and writing. It was painful. Really. I think most of the rest of the audience was in agreement. Bombay dreams is a bomb.
