My Name is Khan

After seeing Sharukh Khan on Friday Night with Jonathan Ross and discovering that he is the biggest star in the World; bigger than Cruise, bigger than Eastwood, bigger than Bullock; and I’d never heard of him, I decided I had to do something about this and so I headed off to see his latest film, My Name is Khan.

I’m so ignorant and ill-informed I presumed I would be seeing a film full of dancing and songs, and I was curious as to how this would blend in with the film’s post 9/11 theme.

Well, no dancing and no songs. Actually, yes songs, but only three and all used extra-diegestically to accompany story-telling montages.

The film tells the story of Rizwan Khan (Shahrukh Khan), a sweet character with Asperger Syndrome who has been brought up by his mother to understand that there are only two types of people in the world, regardless of race or religious belief; there are good people and there are bad people.

At the start of the film a disclaimer pops up, but it is there so briefly I didn’t have time to read it all. The gist was;  this guy’s autistic. We’ve done our best to be accurate, but this is a film, not real life, and we’ve made him a little bit daft, a little bit Rain Man, a little bit Chauncey Gardiner.

Maybe I’m being a little bit unfair there. He’s clever, unlike Chauncey. And Sharukh’s performance is charming.He’s funny, he’s loving, he’s kind, and he’s possibly the kind of character that could only exist in a movie.

In adulthood he moves to San Francisco and pesters a gorgeous hairdresser, Mandira (Kajol), to marry him. And she does! Marry me, marry me, marry me. Until she gives in.

All’s well, until 9/11 happens. The film moves into darker territory then as Muslims become the targets of racist abuse and Mandira (a Hindu) turns against her husband (a muslim) after suffering the most awful of personal tragedies. She’s taken her husband’s name (a name synonymous in unthinking American circles with terrorist) and now she is tormented, screaming at her husband to leave; to go and tell the President that he is not a terrorist.

And Khan has Asperger Syndrome, so he takes everything literally. He sets off on a journey. A journey to meet the President of the United States and say “my name is Khan, and I am not a terrorist.” And in so doing win back the love of his life.

Well, I’m a sucker for a film like this. The characters cry enough, but I think I outcried them. If you like laughing and crying and don’t mind your politics being watered down to a world of good people and bad people, where good deeds save the day, and where goodness is all that is needed in the face of evil;  if you like Oliver Stone films, where you are bashed over the head with a baseball bat until you get it, then you’ll like this.

If all this seems like harsh criticism, it isn’t. I loved Sharukh and I loved the film. It’s sweet and moving and full of gorgeous people. It looks gorgeous too, full of wonderful shots of San Francisco. And when trouble hits, such as a Hurricane Katrine like scene where Khan saves the people and the day, well, it looks gorgeous. It rains, everyone gets wet, and they all look great.

The film could be in trouble for the way in which it glamorises serious and affecting issues. But it’s just too damn moving and loveable for the likes of me to get picky with it.

Go and see it and laugh and cry. Sink into it and let it overwhelm you. But, if you’re the cynical kind, maybe don’t bother.