HERE, THERE & ELSEWHERE . Virtual genie

“Muriel’s inviting us to see a movie,” I say to Bins. “Coming?” He doesn’t look up from his laptop. So I repeat my question. “Shhh,” he hisses. “I’m trying to buy socks from Amazon and you want me to see some nonsense fairytale??”

“Well, yes!” I say, “It IS a fairytale, as it happens: The Disney live-action remake of Aladdin.” Bins looks up now, frowning like a thundercloud. “I can’t believe,” he says, “that you actually WANT to see a colonial-porn fantasy.” I roll my eyes. “Oh, lighten up,” I say. “Yes, it’ll be a minaret-flavoured soufflé. Yes, it’ll be full of clichés, with date-palms, sand dunes, dancing ostriches and a snarling tiger. But the lead actor is Egyptian-Canadian. The lead actress is UK-Indian. The genie is Will Smith...”

Bins is clutching his head. “Please! Do not fill my poor brain with pop-garbage! I don’t know and I don’t care. The cartoon film was bad enough. Don’t you remember? It begins with a character who looks like an Arab but he salaams with a namasté!” “Yes, I remember,” I say. “So don’t you think it’s interesting that the new film is an update? It’s an effort to improve the earlier film, by presenting people of colour — real people, not animated figures — playing the lead roles!”

“No!” roars Bins. “It’s making disgusting fun of the real world — and of the real Middle East, which is being shredded to bits — by greed for oil, by madness for power, by the war between cultures!” But I refuse to give in. “By showing us real actors playing fantasy roles in a musical aimed at children, maybe Aladdin’s genie can produce some real magic? Maybe a film like this can help all of us win the culture wars that are tearing the world apart. Maybe we all need something as simplistic as brown-skinned actors in a Hollywood extravaganza to switch the race-codes in our minds?”

“Have you seen the film?” asks Bins. “No!” I say. “That’s what this conversation is about, an invitation.” “Then you have no idea whether or not it lives up to your childish dreams!” says Bins, triumphantly. “Disney can never do anything innocent and meaningful — always, behind all their sugar-coated princesses and pretty-boy princes, there’s the ugly genie spinning mountains of money.” “Spinning dreams too!” I cry, desperate to defend the source of my childhood amusements. “We all need some kind of fairy-dust in our lives — even you — even now, what’re you doing? Consulting the Internet Genie! Buying socks! Gadgets! Vitamin pills!”

He’s honest enough to look sheepish. “Okay,” he admits. “The Internet IS a bit like a Genie. And maybe Amazon is like a treasure cave. And maybe the computer is a magic lamp...” “So!” I say. “Are you coming to see the movie or not?” He tugs at his scraggly moustache. “Only if you make tea for one whole week,” he says. “Like I always do,” I say, getting up.

Manjula Padmanabhan, author and artist, writes of her life in the fictional town of Elsewhere, US, in this weekly column

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