The Merchants of Bollywood at the Civic Theatre

The costumes are a kaleidoscope of Indian ethnicity.

In Kovalum, Kerala, I sat in a clifftop restaurant and watched the stars of a Bollywood epic filming on the rocks below. The glamorous "hot item" - what they call their female superstars - perched for hours on an uncomfortable, but picturesque, point and trilled, with all the bodice ripping actions thrown in.

Another day I watched a film crew at work, miles up a goat track in the remote hills of Corg, where a famous Bollywood Romeo (think big patent leather coif, several kilograms of Indian gold chain around a mahogany neck, affluent paunch and neon teeth) struck a marathon, melodramatic pose to croon about his undying love, while at least 30 bare-midriffed maidens risked life and limb and their ankles, to cavort through the wilderness.

In the Kaveri Hotel in Mysore, the manager, the concierge, the chai boy spent hours watching lascivious Bollywood soaps. In a culture where boys don't touch girls before their traditional arranged marriages, these soaps never expose a single kiss, but you could choke on the sleazy winks, the bosom shaking, the sexual innuendo.

None of this prepared me in the slightest for the shock to the senses that is The Merchants of Bollywood.

Travolta clones shake their booty in honour of Siva, the God of Destruction and Rebirth, while a booming voice explains how Bollywood has become the new religion of India and delivers the love and the fantasy otherwise out of reach for the teeming millions. Is it true?

The true life story of Hiralal, the King of Dance from Jaipur, and choreographer of the classic films of the golden age of Hindi Cinema, and his granddaughter Vaibhavi Merchant, the contemporary Queen of Romance and choreographer of this show, is the central theme, giving rise to lots of syrupy sentimentality but not much more.

Mostly the cast of some 30 dancers just kick, polka, stomp and disco their enthusiastic and high-voltage celebration of the Bollywood phenomenon in frenetic and furious style.

Leading Bollywood composers Salim and Sulaiman Merchant provide the score. The costumes are a kaleidoscope of Indian ethnicity - and more - including the curious combo of bare chests, balloon pants and huge skate shoes (for the men) and thick, shiny "nude" body stockings teamed with skimpy harem suits for the women. These strangely disguise the navel and wrinkle, like baggy pantyhose. Other production values are not very high, either, in contrast to the super-glossy $15 programme, which is quite interesting.

This show is not for the unconverted. But the fans on opening night loved it - 100 per cent.