February 5, 1992 | In the Greenwood, Miss., of Mira Nair’s wise and romantic Mississippi Masala, there is a patchwork quilt, not a rainbow coalition, of black, brown and white. Indian emigres and blacks live side-by-side under the not-quite-benign, not-quite-threatening gaze of the white power structure. And while there may be certain animosities percolating below the sleepily placid surface, nothing serious ever erupts.
Nothing, that is, until Demetrius (Denzel Washington), an ambitious young black man with his own carpet-cleaning business, quite literally runs into Mina (Sarita Choudhury), a Kampala-born Indian beauty whose family operates a low-rent motel.
Granted, it’s not exactly a moment when sparks fly. But the encounter does indeed light a slow-burning fuse. And when passion ultimately, inevitably explodes, the blast shakes up onlookers of all colors in the good city of Greenwood.
Mississippi Masala is a movie with a lot of things on its mind, but only some of those things involve racism. With a generous spirit and a prickly wit, director Nair and screenwriter Sooni Taraporevala are intent on creating a large, richly detailed overview of a community where diverse groups are united in a tangy sort of masala (a mixture of hot, multicolored spices). The black population and the Indian immigrants have a lot more in common than they often are willing, or able, to recognize. And the most important thing they share, Nair and Taraporevala emphasize with tact and compassion, is a sense of cultural displacement.
The irony is heavy — the blacks speak fondly, even yearningly, of an Africa they have never seen, and likely will never see; the Indians have firsthand knowledge of an Africa they have lost, perhaps forever. But the irony is presented with a light touch and a warm heart. And, better still, it is just one ingredient in a spicy, sexy masala that will greatly satisfy the most demanding palate.
The movie begins in 1972, as Idi Amin orders the expulsion of all Asians from Uganda. Jay (Roshan Seth), a third-generation Ugandan of Indian ancestry, is enraged at being forced to join the exodus with his wife and child. “Uganda is my home,” he complains to his best friend, a black African named Okelo (Konga Moandu). “Not anymore,” Okelo replies. “Africa is for Africans. Black Africans.”
Flash forward two decades or so, from Kampala to the Mississippi town where Jay operates a motel of dubious repute, his wife, Kinnu (Sharmila Tagore), runs a liquor store in a black neighborhood, and their circle of friends extends no wider than the community of transplanted Indians. Jay and Kinnu hope their headstrong daughter, Mina, will settle down and marry a nice Indian boy. But then she accidentally rams her car into the back of Demetrius’ truck.
Nair, an Indian-born, Harvard-trained filmmaker, began her career with keenly observant documentaries, then moved into features with her Oscar-nominated Salaam, Bombay!, a drama of Indian street kids that combined non-fiction realism (most of the children were played by nonprofessionals drawn from the streets of Bombay) with traditional movie narrative stratagems.
In Mississippi Masala, Nair moves a bit further into the mainstream, but not too far from her roots. She has retained her sharp documentarian’s eye for revealing detail while eliciting sharp, compelling performances from a strong cast, and telling a wonderfully entertaining story with uncommon intelligence and ingratiating good humor.
Washington already has an Academy Award and several sterling performances to his credit, but Mississippi Masala may be the movie that makes him a bona fide, slow-simmering sex symbol. As Demetrius, a hard-working, good-hearted fellow who will take only so much guff from anyone, Washington brings gravity and playfulness to the romance at the center of the movie.
Newcomer Sarita Choudhury, unabashedly voluptuous and endearingly feisty, gives the romance a sense of urgency and an air of mischievousness. There’s a scene midway through the film where she and Washington flirt near a bayou, and enjoy a first, tentative kiss. It is the sweetest and hottest movie moment in recent memory.
Nair also gets fine work from her supporting players, especially Joe Seneca as Demetrius’ loving but disapproving father, and Sharmila Tagore as a woman who’s determined to make the most of her present circumstances, even as she loves her nostalgia-bound husband.
Roshan Seth comes very close to stealing the entire movie with his subtly nuanced and profoundly moving portrayal of Jay. Indeed, the final moments belong to Seth, as Jay makes a sentimental journey back to Kampala, and experiences a melancholy confluence of resignation and reconciliation.
That, too, is part of the delicious mixture that is Mississippi Masala.
