A Touch of Pink

An affair to remember: A Touch of Pink overcomes clichés with charm

By Mike Prevatt

There are plenty of reasons to be suspicious of A Touch of Pink, the first full-length feature by director/writer Ian Iqbal Rashid. That it largely overcomes its general dearth of imagination is a testament to the charm of the film and its players.

From its frequent sampling of classic films to its continuation of familial, matrimony-themed, Old World-meets-New World comedies, Touch is completely reliant on homage and stale celluloid themes. Provoking this is the film's gimmick--an imaginary Cary Grant (Kyle MacLachlan) playing life adviser to romantically troubled Alim (Jimi Mistry).

However, it's the sharp wit and tempered nostalgia from Grant's Hollywood worldview, along with a more respectful representation of his characters' identities, which refreshes this big, fat, gay Indian wedding flick. Rashid might've just made another ethnic exploitation flick--or the umpteenth coming-out one, for that matter--but his keen eye for tradition and time-tested emotional honesty curtails any potential slapstick minstrelsy and self-absorbed angst.

After a forgettable intro by MacLachlan's Grant, we're introduced to Alim, a generally dour, occasionally self-hating Indian-Canadian, living an otherwise ideal gay existence in London with his boyfriend Giles (Kristen Holden-Reid). Their world is upended by the visit of Alim's mother, Nuru (Suleka Mathew), who is particularly interested in finding a respectable bride for her son. However, she does not know that Alim is gay, and he makes every attempt to hide it from her--much to the disappointment of Giles, who entertains the rude and unbending matriarch so as to soften the blow of Alim's admission. This doesn't work, and after Nuru and Giles separately flee from outrage, Alim decides to follow her, using his attendance at a family wedding as an excuse to hash things out.

Always present in spirit is Grant, whose various big-screen adventures and experiences have always served as wisdom and inspiration for Alim. "Those movies you watch--they've led you down the wrong path!" says Nuru, which is ironic because she was the one who took Alim to the cinema when he was a child. Nonetheless, things begin to go right for Alim when he more or less rejects Grant's guidance and follows his heart.

The last 20 minutes are some of the movie's most predictable--a recurring appearance by Nuru's lonely building janitor, the Big Gay Kiss moment--but, as Grant opines, "A happy ending justifies anything," and in this instance, he's right.

Rashid mercifully streamlined his screenplay--itself a throwback to old Hollywood--and the tight structure lets other elements stand out, whether it's the colorful wedding scenes in Toronto or the infusion of clips from Grant pics like Suspicion and The Philadelphia Story.

Most alluring, though, are the characters. Mistry overcomes his deplorably hammy go in The Guru with a likably neurotic performance here. Exuding confidence by way of natural poise and a sharp glibness, Holden-Reid is a minor revelation. The same could be said for Mathew and her ballbreaking yet enchanting demeanor.

But the star of Touch is undoubtedly MacLachlan, who apes Grant in spectacularly droll fashion. A particularly priceless moment comes when Giles takes a shine to Alim's mother, and Grant lets go with, "Your people have a thing for the brassy broads, don't they?" The mixture of retro lingo and MacLachlan's delivery are the film's biggest delights. Additionally, in what may be Rashid's shrewd way of working in Grant's bisexual mythology, MacLachlan's role also has the best gay puns. Though his one-liners start petering out toward the end, his delivery and charisma hold up for the entire movie. Touch may have been just another color-by-numbers gay comedy without the Grant fantasy device, but Rashid's unique manipulation of nostalgia has made all the difference.