tonstant viewer Om Puri as the character Parvez, opens this film playing a clumsy, overenthusiastic, embarrassing Pakistani immigrant in England, mangling the language and missing every possible social cue. Oh, no, funny little foreign man. Yuk.But then something wonderful happens. We watch Parvez's life fall apart, and he gradually and inexorably turns into a real person of depth and moral struggle. By the end, he has become a person who will live with you long after the film ends.In order to make a living, Parvez drives a cab at night. He also fixes up randy passengers with local hookers, though he is not motivated enough to sample them himself. He feels dirtied by this way of surviving, but does not become a bad person himself.His son, on the other hand, abandons a lovely English girl to join some local Muslim fundamentalists. They are deliberately not clearly identified with either a Sunni or Shiite affiliation, as that is not the purpose of the story. The group imports a radical mullah from the old country, and as he stays in Parvez's house, the son becomes irretrievably estranged from his father.As the action progresses, the son pursues his concept of holiness and purity, and becomes a bad person. Eventually, Parvez's world collapses completely. As Parvez, Om Puri gives a superb performance.What is remarkable about this film is not only the human story, which is real and absorbing, but also a discussion of second-generation Brits turning their backs on Western secular society and reaffirming a rigid, medieval orthodoxy from a country they may never have seen. Now, this is not a documentary and shouldn't be judged as such. What matters here most is the way humans relate to each other in the context of religious zealotry.The scale of violence in this film is modest, but Google "Finsbury Park Mosque raid 2003" and "7 July 2005 London bombings," and you will see the eerie predictive power of art. While watching this film, it's hard to remember that it dates from 1998.This is a worthwhile film in terms of human drama, and a tribute to the power of the artist to see into the future. Highly recommended.

dpmoretti In light of 9-11, this movie is even more timely than when it first came out. The clashing of consumerism and religious fanaticism is on all our minds. This movie's even handed approach and willingness to show both sides places the viewer on an swerving ideological journey. And Om Puri and Rachel Griffiths give remarkable performances. A must see.

Gary-161 Hanif Kureshi recently adapted his book 'The Buddah Of Suburbia' for television and it was un-watchable. Not because it was bad but because the action and dialogue was so true to life it was too uncomfortable to keep your eyes on. We are not used to reality on tv. One of the Brit pack of new directors stated that they are the generation that hate Merchant Ivory and Hanif Kureshi but I know which will last, although I can live without Ivory.Kureshi has long been a fierce critic of Islamic Fundamentalism but not being Pakistani myself, I have no idea how accurate his portrayal of immigrant life in this country is but I can tell you that his handling of women is less assured. This mostly fine film ends just when the narrative is getting going, leaving you with a moving sense of pathos about the lead character but that's no criticism. It's better that you are left asking more questions than being hit with an over long film bludgeoning you with too many answers.

rjh-5 Benjamin Barber identifies two conflicting eternities, race and soul, that shape the modern environment. The former connotes the tribal past while the latter implies the cosmopolitan future (Barber 4). This conflict is variably cast as that between cosmopolitanism and patriotism or between universalism and notions of thick republican citizenship. Conflict between citizens' primary allegiances pervades modern society so substantially that it has manifested itself in popular consciousness, often taking the form of print media or film. My son the Fanatic is an attempt to tackle such issues as the tensions between races, classes, and religions in the age of Diaspora and multi-national corporations. Developing relationships between characters that symbolize classes and cultural groups, Udayan Prasad sheds light on the solitude of cosmopolitan citizenry, and the greed it necessitates. By juxtaposing the film with texts from Nussbaum, Appadurai, Mouffe, and Benhabib, we gain a firmer understanding of the discrepancies between the theoretical liberal universal citizen and the ostracization that arises from the reality of a cosmopolitan identity. Prasad's film inserts cosmopolitan ideals into a realistic setting, revealing tensions that the liberal universalist's theoretical cosmopolitan citizen never encounters. Nussbaum's essay, "Patriotism and Cosmopolitanism," reduces citizenship and allegiance to a set of concentric circles, each representative of shared identities. The outer-most circle represents what all humans share as rational, mutually dependant creatures, while the innermost represents the most exclusive of identities. This stance suggests that from a moral point of view, nationality, race, religion, gender, etc. are arbitrary forms of self-identification and therefore cannot guarantee pursuit of the moral good (Benhabib 711-12). Universalism argues that because it is based on principles independent of birth, the cosmopolitan's first allegiance is to what is morally good: universal values of justice and right (Nussbaum 5). Theoretically, because all people recognize these universal values, basic human rights are guaranteed by all to all. In My Son the Fanatic, Parvez demonstrates his global allegiance through subtle use of dialogue. Several scenes directly uncover Parvez self-identity. One such scene is Parvez's first visit to Bettina's house. Over dinner, Bettina prods Parvez on why he left Islam. Parvez describes his reservations about accepting a philosophy that insisted good people who were not Muslims were destined to go to hell. He explains that in place of the next world, he said "hello to.work." By abandoning the cultural Islamic identity, Parvez was able to adopt the philosophy that people should treat each other "good." In a much later sequence of the film, this appreciation for universal rights is exemplified by the dinner scene in which Parvez's wife is forced to eat alone. Although in vain, Parvez calls out, "Minuu, I won't eat without you!" The main character's belief in equality between genders, because it is counter to the imagined cultural norm, draws great attention to the differences between the cosmopolitan and the national. Another example in which Parvez communicates his abandonment of his non-global identity is his date with Bettina at Fizzy's restaurant. Rather than focusing on the cultural i.e. religious nature of his identity, Prasad explores Parvez's relationship with his former nation-state. Explaining why he left his homeland, Parvez answers simply, "to feed my family, I saw no further." While he does not reject his nation-state, this response portrays a man who does not "worship his country like a god," (Nussbaum 3). This anti-nostalgic view facilitates what can only be considered Parvez's adopted multi-national culture. In order to demonstrate the diverse nature of Parvez's identity (and its distinctions from his abandoned traditional homeland), Prasad incorporates several international cultural interests into the character. Among these interests are sports. Early in the film, when his son is packing up his things, his father grabs him and asks about the squash racquet he purchased. His son, in attempt to become more Pakistani, had sold it. Sports offer hard cultural forms that are more likely to socialize its participants than be changed or re-interpreted. Therefore it is natural that nationalist movements that wish, as Fahid says, "to belong to the past," reject those cultural forms in an attempt to purify the imagined identity (Appadurai 90). It is therefore no surprise that the viewer later sees Parvez playing alone with his son's cricket stick, a sign of British/Pakistani integration.Although sports offer an excellent example of Parvez's multi-national adopted cultural forms, the form most frequently utilized by the film is jazz. Beginning with his argument with his son over going out to dinner, Prasad incorporates the music into the scene to widen the schism between the cosmopolitan (Parvez) and patriotism (his son's Islamic fundamentalism). The protagonist's appreciation for the music is even rejected by his wife, who eventually declares that the music is "too trumpety." This rejection of "otherness" by the Islamic fundamentalists draws attention to the growing solitude of Parvez' chosen cultural forms. The director goes to great lengths to show Parvez as a cosmopolitan citizen. Whether one studies the way in which he treats women, his choice of music, or his taste in sports, it is clear that the main character swears a primary allegiance to neither his territorial homeland nor Islam. His lack of national or cultural patriotism is exemplified by his lack of enthusiasm for the past. When asked by Bettina why he hadn't gone back to Pakistan, his response "no money, no time," is so emotionless that the viewer has no choice but to conclude that Parvez doesn't care to return. Because of his rejection of national and imagined cultural forms associated with the Pakistani Diaspora, in addition to his acceptance of cultural forms at odds with that Diaspora, we conclude that Prasad has purposefully composed a character who is representative of Nussbaum's ideal world citizen. With this assumption (that Parvez is the symbol of lower class cosmopolitanism) it is possible to explore how Parvez's relationships in the film are metaphorical for the conflicts between the cosmopolitan and global formations.Although cosmopolitan life is an exile from "the comfort of local truths, warm feelings of patriotism, and the absorbing drama of pride in oneself and one's own," it presupposes a global identity/brotherhood in which all people are equal. Nussbaum offers Crates and Hypparchia as examples of cosmopolitan citizens in order to suggest that the world citizen is not condemned to a life of complete solitude and rejection (Nussbaum15-17). Yet because her examples of cosmopolitan life consist entirely of world travel, public fornication, and posh dinner parties, it does little to explain how world citizen would fare in contemporary society. Nussbaum assumes that the cosmopolitan can achieve a general level of acceptance by his/her environment. In My Son the Fanatic no such level of general acceptance is present. Although he personally believes in the principles of universal equality and justice, Parvez is constantly reminded throughout the film that non-cosmopolitans find him decidedly foreign (and therefore worthy of a second-class status). At best, he achieves a level of respect equal to his economic or social utility. Two sets of characters/scenes in the film offer insight as to the viability of the cosmopolitan identity. In order to elaborate on the exchange between cosmopolitans and transnational corporations, Prasad establishes Mr. Schitz as a character who, like multi-national corporations, acts with enormous financial clout and motivated entirely by self-interest. Prasad also explores the exchange between the traditional homogeneous nation-state and the cosmopolitan citizen. Prasad only thinly veils the similarities between Schitz and multi-national corporations. Therefore by examining the relationship between Parvez and Mr. Schitz, it is possible to extrapolate the possible interaction between multi-national corporations and cosmopolitans. Two possibilities for the relationship exist. On the one hand, liberal philosophy believes that markets, when left alone, will set socioeconomic norms that will encourage global human rights (Mouffe 123). The opposite argument believes that multi-national corporations "rely crucially on the legal, fiscal, environmental, and human organization of the nation-state while operating within and across national structures, exploiting their legitimacy," (Appadurai 168). In order to determine which hypothesis is more likely to be the reality, we look to the film for examples that support either notion of multi-national corporations.