Life and showbiz got uncomfortably close in “Bunty Berman Presents . . .,” a likable but overlong new musical set in the demented world of Bollywood movies.
As it happened, Erick Avari, the New Group production’s original lead, was injured during previews. This being off-Broadway, he didn’t have an understudy — so British-Pakistani playwright Ayub Khan Din stepped in as the title character, a larger-than-life film producer-director in 1957 Bombay.
At least Din had experience: Before writing plays (“Rafta, Rafta”) he was an actor, appearing in movies like Stephen Frears’ “Sammy and Rosie Get Laid.”
Not only does he do a fine job, but the whole incident could easily have been lifted from the show.
“Bunty Berman” revolves around Bunty’s desperate efforts to save his studio from bankruptcy. This being a spoof of Indian song-and-dance spectacles, there are as many musical numbers as delirious subplots.
The funniest of the many supporting characters is Bunty’s vain leading man, Raj Dhawan (Sorab Wadia), who’s become too big for his britches — literally. Since he’s put on extra pounds, he needs a girdle.
“Try chicken tandoori,” his doe-eyed co-star, Shambervi (Lipica Shah), suggests after Raj passes out on the set. “You’ll raise him from the dead with a drumstick!”
Seems Bombay is closer to the Borscht Belt than we thought, and at times it feels as if we’re in a Mel Brooks show, complete with cartoonish characters, ba-dum-bump punch lines and risqué double entendres.
Disguised as “Fatima, the Blind Soothsayer of Sind,” Raj grandly announces to gangster/nightclub owner Shankar Dass (Alok Tewari), “I have traveled far across its sandy desert wastes to show you my balls.” As any Brooks fan can tell you, Raj is talking about crystal balls.
This old-fashioned style extends to the music. Except for a couple of numbers, the score — by Din and composer-arranger Paul Bogaev (“Bombay Dreams”) — sounds more like traditional 1950s Broadway than Bollywood.
“Bunty” has a few funny, “I can’t believe they went there” moments, as when Raj’s head suddenly pokes out of a papier-mâché elephant’s butt.
But Din just throws too much stuff at the wall, and not enough of it sticks. It would have helped if director Scott Elliott had set a faster pace, but he doesn’t seem entirely at ease with the material.
At 2 1/2 hours, the show feels padded. Still, we should count our blessings — Bollywood movies often go on for three hours or more.