FilmBlather.com

"Undress me slowly. Spiritually."

The Guru is a sex comedy that is infectious and exuberant and occasionally naughty. It declines the invitation to pointlessly "push the envelope" and be described as "raunchy". This isn't to say that it is a morally sound film -- indeed, the characters here are mostly porn stars, frauds and floozies -- but it's sweet, and likable, and immensely good-natured. Some prize has to be awarded for the first romantic comedy in years that made me feel happy.

A friend of mine asked me recently why every "ethnic" comedy released in this country bears the message that everyone has to become American NOW. I didn't have an answer to this, at least not a good one. The Guru more or less dismantles that criticism in its opening scenes, which show Indian characters in their homeland speaking none other than English. The protagonist, Ramu Gupta (Jimi Mistry) quits his job teaching the Macarena to old women, and decides to move to America and try to become a star. His friends and family tell him that the best he'll do is a role as a waiter or a taxi driver, or if he's less lucky, a job as a waiter or a taxi driver.

Having arrived, he sees an ad in the paper for "film/video" looking for an "ethnic male". It's a porn role, of course, but Ramu realizes that all too late, and before he knows it, he is an island boy leaping all over stern businesswoman Sharonna (Heather Graham). He quickly gets his fill of being a porn star, and discovers another vocation: it seems that he is adept at being a guru of sex, giving spiritually tinged advice to an audience of gullible rich socialites. He is taken in by Lexi (Marisa Tomei), a ditzy heiress who lives by vacuous self-help platitudes and wants to help Ramu become a star.

Because he doesn't know that much about sex, Ramu starts taking private lessons from Sharonna under the guise of wanting to break into the porn industry. Sharonna is married to a nice, wholesome young man who has no knowledge of what her career entails. She entreats Ramu to keep what he learns to himself which, of course, puts him in somewhat of a moral quandary.

I'm fascinated by Indian musicals; they have the sort of energy and excess that American filmmakers are, I think, too embarrassed to exhibit. While The Guru has occasional clips from Bollywood and has several Bollywood-related sequences, the entire movie is pitched at roughly that level. It doesn't stop to contemplate but careens forward with a refreshing anything-goes mentality. It works in Grease references, Michael McKean as a porn director, gay firefighters and the line "My pussy is the door to my soul" all in 94 minutes. This is my kind of movie.

If there is justice in this world, young actor Jimi Mistry, previously seen in East is East, will become a major star. Unfortunately, there is no justice in this world, at least not in Hollywood, and he may fall victim to his own film's insistent platitudes that there is no respectable place for Indian actors in America. Well, let it be known that he carries this movie entirely, as charming as Travolta in Grease and a hell of a lot more self-effacing. Let's see more of him, what do you say?

The Guru was directed by Daisy von Scherler Mayer, whose last project was the Frances McDormand version of Madeline. She keeps the movie hopping at a furious pace, going from one set piece to the next. This is the rare example of comedy that looks great on paper and somehow translates well to the screen: a Bollywood musical turning into Grease really is funny, as is the montage in which the somewhat befuddled guru gives sex tips to old ladies in jumpsuits and inexplicably naked couples.

This is a wonderful, upbeat little comedy, perfect for any occasion you can think up. There are some laughs at the expense -- I guess -- of Indian people, but it is respectful, and doesn't (ahem) portray them as nasty, or overbearing, or psychotic. The word to describe The Guru is "euphoric". Go see it as soon as possible.