TOTEM LAKE CINEMA
12232 N.E. Totem Lake Way, 425-587-7882, www.roxycinema.com
The first thing I notice upon arriving at the Totem Lake Cinema is that I’m under- dressed for the occasion. On a recent summer evening outside this theater that screens first-run films from India, a crowd of moviegoers of South Asian descent is gathering. Nearly all the men wear long pants and stylish shirts. Some of the women wear saris or salwar kameez—pantsuits with matching scarves—of bright yellows, pinks, and gold. Several turbaned Sikhs pass by. Grandmothers gossip as children play on the railings. In my shorts and sandals, I look like I’m lining up for a Phish concert.
Each weekend, this corner of a forgotten Eastside strip mall is transformed into a gathering place for the Seattle area’s Indian community. Following the immigration boom of the late ’90s, there’s a big enough population of Indian-born computer programmers and their families to support a theater exclusively dedicated to the films of Bollywood.
Kavitha Gopalan, who lives in Redmond and works for Boeing, is out on this night with two of her friends, Shilpa and Vaishnavi. “It’s a very social event,” says Gopalan. “You look ahead in line and see a friend here, a relative there.”
The region’s only Bollywood venue was launched nine years ago when brothers Sohel and Arif Azhar bought the venerable Roxy Cinema in Renton. Born in Bangladesh, the brothers grew up in Seattle and today hold day jobs in the IT and real estate industries. They sold the Roxy about a year ago, then in April began leasing this three-screen theater (only one screen of which is currently in use).
It’s no secret that the Indian movie industry is one of the world’s largest. The film studios of Mumbai—formerly known as Bombay, hence “Bollywood”—churn out hundreds of splashy musicals, family comedies, and melodramas each year.
Bollywood flicks are definitely an acquired taste for the average American filmgoer. (I became hooked while traveling in India.) First of all, they’re loud. With its pounding beats and piercing female vocals, Indian film music is to American movie scores what a strong vindaloo curry is to a Big Mac. No subtlety here.
Second, this is escapism at its finest. Don’t go to a Bollywood movie hoping to see a nuanced portrayal of stratified Indian society. Bollywood characters are always drop-dead beautiful, decked out in the latest fashions, and very wealthy. (Sure, it’s brain candy, but I love it.)
Third, and most important, very few pictures at the Totem Lake Cinema are subtitled. So unless you’re fluent in Hindi (or Tamil or Bengali, although those titles are shown less often), it’s best to stick with lighthearted fare that’s heavy on singing and dancing numbers. Half the fun of an unsubtitled film is guessing the plot and creatively filling in the gaps. “When we were growing up,” says Sohel Azhar, “we couldn’t understand Hollywood movies. But we could still follow the story.” Perhaps with an eye to the cash register, Azhar thinks Seattleites are up to it, too.
On the evening of my visit, the theater is showing Devdas (with subtitles), a $12 million remake of a classic melodrama set at the turn of the century. Devdas has had eight reincarnations on the Indian screen since 1958, and this latest adaptation holds the record as the most expensive Indian film ever made.
It turns out the theater has oversold tickets, and many of us, including me, won’t be getting in. Most of the crowd doesn’t seem particularly upset and keeps on socializing. I chat up Pradipta Chakraborty, a Bellevue consultant. I mention that I’m fond of mindless Hindi comedies with lots of music and dance.
Chakraborty, understandably, has higher standards. “Sometimes I go for pleasure,” he says. “But sometimes there must be something greater. I like the music, yes, but it must be contextual. Indian directors feel they need music and dance to wake people up.”
I return on another evening and finally get in to see Devdas. It’s wonderful and awful at the same time: it’s over over-the-top. Visually, it’s opulent. Plotwise, it’s cheesy. Yet there’s something elegant and operatic about the whole spectacle. Some of it’s just plain bad, and the audience recognizes this—a round of giggles accompanies the film’s overwrought opening scene. But the music and dance numbers are pounding with energy.
About 10 minutes in, the print breaks and the screen goes dark. Rather than the usual passive-aggressive glares and boos one might find in a typical Seattle multiplex, here the pause offers the audience another chance to talk. A girl sitting across the aisle starts dancing to the lobby music.
Then the movie starts again. Like most Bollywood releases, it’s long—over three hours. But thankfully, the Totem Lake Cinema has preserved a fading moviegoing tradition in need of a revival: the intermission. Halfway through, there’s enough time to chat yet again, hit the bathrooms, and head for the snack counter.
And the Azhar brothers’ theater holds one additional distinction worthy of note: Where else in town can you order a couple of tasty samosas to accompany your popcorn and Raisinettes?
