This is more than a glitzy, glittery, exuberant musical comedy. It is certainly that, and I am still bobbing up and down humming the title number. But it is also a channel of communication between cultures, packed with in-jokes and cinematic references, as well as a lighthearted study of tension between the generations in a modern, well-off Indian family.
Dr Katrina Pawer (Nisha Aaliya) returns to India from London for her brother's wedding, to find the betrothed couple desperately anxious to get out of the marriage and too scared to tell the parents (immaculately played by Rohit Gokani, as a jovial Colonel, and Sakuntala Ramanee, as a neurotic dragon with great comic timing). Meanwhile Ronny (Robby Khela), a reluctant pilgrim with an urn of ashes, has been in India for one day and is already prepared to pay thousands of rupees for access to a western toilet. His actor friend Amit (Yanick Ghanty) has managed to rope him into posing as a PA to Amit's "director".
From here on the story follows the predictable curves to be found in romantic comedy stretching back from Wodehouse to Shakespeare - with a sizeable nod to She Stoops to Conquer, as writer Samir Bhamra plays with some of Bollywood's influences from the days of British occupation. The very silliness of the plot, told as it is through unfamiliar music and dance, was for me an intriguing experience. I'm used to this kind of nonsense in Western panto or opera or the 1950s MGM musicals: here it is reflected back to me with glee and extra sequins from the land of ancient epics and modern problem novels - the land of Aravind Adiga and Ruth Prawer Jhabvala and R. K. Narayan - a land I'm used to thinking about with respectful gravity, or at most with a little satire. It's an immersive introduction to Bollywood's tinsel fairyland.
The dancing is an extraordinary mixture, including classical Kathak, Indian folk, disco, breakdancing and a dash of ballroom. The fluid virtuosity of the ensemble in all these styles is remarkable, as is the definition of their core muscles. The show zings along from number to number, each with its own array of dazzling costumes, not giving you time to fall into the holes in the plot. Some songs were written for the show, some are from Bollywood movies, famous and obscure, and at least one is hundreds of years old. Each, whether in English or Hindi, seemed to me to work extraordinarily well in conveying pure emotion. Robby Khela was particularly effective: he has a truly beautiful, soaring voice and great control.
If you are already a Mumbai Cinema buff, you will absolutely love this show. I speak from direct observation of most of the audience: there was a great sense of delighted recognition of the movie references that pepper the script. A kindly neighbour explained a few of these to me, and the author expanded a little on them in the after-show talk. The programme helpfully presents an A-Z glossary of key terms from Bollywood history, which is a lovely bonus for newbies.
Despite the overall theme and a few bold jokes about racial intolerance, there's a decided innocence to the show: it's as insistently sweet as anything Gene Kelly ever starred in. If that puts you off, or if you don't like musicals, then don't go. But any fan of music and dance whether firm fan or Bollywood virgin, or just Bollycurious, should take care not to miss this.