It is not often that I consult Harakah for movie recommendations. But when a recent [#1]article[/#] in the English section pointed out some similarities between reformasi in Malaysia and the new Shah Rukh Khan blockbuster Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani , I did not walk but run to the nearest cinema. Here, I thought, was a project after my own jagged heart.

It had been years since I last saw a Bollywood movie on the big screen. I was already prepared for the bum-numbing length, the dances, the colours and the romance. Since the Harakah piece had already provided the allegorical possibilities of the plot-line, I also looked forward to a few cheap smirks. So I got my ticket and my coke-and-popcorn combo and I settled down. The audience was not only multiracial but most of the folks looked like they would need the subtitles.

160 minutes later, I sat there stunned. Most of the popcorn lay uneaten in its box. That night was one of the most profoundly moving moments I had ever experienced in the cinema. No, I'm not being ironic (for once). I will admit that I watched the movie sneakily intent on mocking it, but it just won me over. There was something so generous about it all - not just its running time but its disarming charm and unexpected subversions and big old heart.

It starts off as a romantic sparring match between Shah Rukh and Juhi Chawla, who are TV journalists on rival stations. What galvanises them into action is the case of a man falsely accused of being a terrorist. I'm always hopeless at giving plot summaries; suffice to say that the duo come across corrupt politicians, vicious cronies, servile media bosses, staged riots and a police force whose independence leaves a lot to be desired.

Yes, I realise what you're thinking, but it would be so pathetic to reduce this exhilarating, life-affirming bonanza to the status of a mere editorial commentary. (But I have to admit that when the scheming chief minister gets pelted by an angry crowd and some audience members called out "Mahathir! Mahathir!" I did manage a yuck, but it was a pure gut response and nothing more.)

The final scenes of the bloodied Shah Rukh and Juhi leading a crowd of flag-waving thousands to save the condemned prisoner from death row will stay with me for some time. Along the way there were also some brutal images to do with how the media chose to report the impending execution, complete with ads and product placements. (This mixture of eye-candy and subversion successfully exists in Western cinema only in Pedro Almodovar).

To say that the images are derivative and corny would be to ignore that great pop only exists via association and the manipulation of mass emotion. Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani is pure pop poetry. In the previous clips I've seen him in, Shah Rukh Khan always struck me as vapid and slightly odious, but right here, splashed on the big screen, his rubbery features seem so apt for this medium, and a nice foil for Juhi Chawla's much-discussed prettiness. It's like that line from Sunset Boulevard : "We had FACES back then."

I suppose what's ultimately so great about this movie is that it's not afraid to make a fool of itself. It goes on too long and it's a little messy and a little loud but hey, so are most of my friends. It doesn't surprise me that it is currently being shown in America; after all those decadent opium-infested Chinese costume dramas and spare what-happens-when-a-little-boy-loses-his- kite Iranian movies, Bollywood extravaganzas might just be the Next Big Thing among hipster cineastes.

It won't be a moment too soon, either. I hate those low-key American indie movies which use flimsy whimsy and sitcom sensibilities as substitute for wit and plot. Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani may not be great art but it has a throbbing vitality missing from so much of the arid postmodern landscape.

The film critic Pauline Kael once named a book of hers Kiss Kiss Bang Bang to reflect the primary appeal of movies. I didn't see any kisses but a few punches in here, so how about some "Hug Hug Dushum Dushum" for a change?