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BY PETER KEOUGH
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Any film invoking the spirit of Cary Grant invites invidious comparisons. Ian Iqbal Rashid’s unruly fluff about a gay Muslim from Toronto seeking freedom and happiness in London starts off annoying, but as it struggles to transcend its retro smirking and its derivativeness (from Play It Again, Sam to La Cage aux Folles to Monsoon Wedding, just to mention the non-Grant titles), it develops a certain screwball charm, even poignance. It’s the kind of mostly innocuous "Men’s Opening Night" crowd pleaser that has become a Gay & Lesbian Film/Video Festival tradition. The allusion to Grant (Kyle MacLachlan, imitating someone, maybe Tony Randall) is not just in the title but in his actual presence. That’s the film’s first and biggest mistake. He’s the imaginary mentor of Alim (Jimi Mistry), and his advice has brought his charge a measure of happiness: nice clothes, a cool flat, and a fulfilling job (snapping production stills for films, not reviewing them). And a wonderful boyfriend: Giles is sexy, patient, mellow, and sweet and, as played by Kristen Holden-Reid, the steady center that holds this mess together. Then mom shows up, distraught because her sister’s son is tying the knot and Alim shows no sign of giving her grandchildren. Yet the film actually prevails over much of this nonsense (though is it necessary to have every woman in distress resort to ice cream?), plunging into a creepy back story and an explanation of Alim’s Grant fetishism (though not MacLachlan’s performance) that both pays tribute to and warns us about the allure of cinema. (91 minutes) At the Cable Car.
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