Cast: Jimi Mistry, Heather Graham, Marisa Tomei, Michael McKean, Emil Marwa, Raahul Singh, Ronald Guttman
Director: Daisy von Scherler Mayer
Producers: Tim Bevan, Eric Fellner, Michael London
Screenplay: Tracey Jackson
Cinematography: John de Borman
Music: David Carbonara
U.S. Distributor: Universal Pictures
The Guru represents one of the most dreaded motion picture experiences any movie-goer can endure: a romantic comedy that is neither romantic nor comedic. Devoid of life, intelligence, humor, and anything else that could entertain even the most undemanding viewer, this film is a perfect example of something that should have been shipped to landfills, not multiplexes.
A twenty-something Indian man, Ramu Gupta (Jimi Mistry), decides to leave behind his family and pursue his dream of song-and-dance stardom in America. Upon arriving in New York, however, he determines that his friend, taxi driver Vijay (Emil Marwa), has greatly exaggerated the ease with which the American dream can be achieved. In order to make ends meet, he answers a classified ad for an "actor." The position is actually that of the male lead in a porn movie, with Ramu working opposite X-rated starlet Sharonna (Heather Graham). Unfortunately, performance anxiety leaves him limp, and he is dismissed by the director (Michael McKean). His next job is as a waiter, and, during a private party, he is forced to masquerade as a swami. After his "advice" turns around the life of the rich and connected Lexi (Marisa Tomei), she becomes determined to transform Ramu into a public sensation – a guru of sex and spirituality. Meanwhile, Ramu tentatively pursues a relationship with Sharonna, who provides him with ideas about the connection between the physical and the metaphysical.
Somewhere, buried amidst all the dross, is the kernel of a promising-yet-undeveloped idea: apply the "Bollywood" standard of inserting seemingly spontaneous, meticulously choreographed musical interludes into a traditional "Hollywood" formula. Ultimately, this approach is abandoned after a few half-hearted attempts. When "You're the One That I Want" from Grease is employed for a lip synch-and-dance number, for example, it is aborted after only a small portion of the song is played. A better synthesis of Bollywood-style filmmaking probably wouldn't have made The Guru better, but it would have elevated the energy level. (Deepa Mehta's 2002 feature, Bollywood/Hollywood, which has yet to receive U.S. distribution, attempts something similar, with greater – but not unqualified – success.)
The acting is almost as bad as the screenwriting and direction. Jimi Mystry is being touted in some circles as the next big international star. However, although the former British soap stud looks great in a leather jacket and shades, his performance hits all the wrong notes. There are times when he's okay, but those are usually in scenes where he plays opposite the terminally untalented Heather Graham, who is inept doing comedy and unwatchable attempting drama. I felt somewhat embarrassed for Marisa Tomei, who is better than the material. It's sad to see someone with comic aptitude (she won an Oscar, albeit undeservedly, for My Cousin Vinny) reduced to appearing in a movie like this one.
Director Daisy von Scherler Mayer (Madeline, Party Girl) expects audiences to laugh when her film is lighthearted and feel for the characters when it strays into melodrama. But, like in a bad sitcom, this is a miscalculation. The so-called "funny" bits are so lame that they are unable to elicit a feeble chuckle, much less a full-blown laugh. And, although the drama is more laughable than the comedy, it's too half-baked and cringe-worthy to keep the average viewer from racing for the box office to demand a refund. In the final analysis, The Guru doesn't need enlightenment; it needs embalming.
© 2003 James Berardinelli