"Crime is completely institutionalized all over the country, especially in Bombay, where it's very, very hard to differentiate as to who's the criminal, who is the police, and who really is the politician." -- Pinki Virani, journalist Hooray for Bollywood -- the bulk of attention here goes to the links between organized crime and the Indian film industry, in which gangsters demonstrate a level of control that would make Bugsy Siegel's mouth water. The refusal of India's socialist government to grant the film business "official industry status" meant that producers and studios couldn't get lines of credit, or financing from banks; so instead they turned to the mob, who made them an offer they couldn't refuse. Extortion of stars and producers seems to be a matter of course -- there's an interview with Rakesh Roshan, a producer and director whose son is his leading man; he was attacked by amateur-hour gunmen, demanding a piece of the action. The brazenness is something -- can you imagine Tony Soprano or his henchmen taking a shot at Russell Crowe? Assassins roamed the Indian wilds as far back as the 14th century, and their ancient hits are re-enacted -- strangulation was their method of choice. A good amount of time is lavished on Sir William Sleeman, 19th-century Englishman, who, as part of the exercise of Empire, set about eradicating the thugs roaming the wilderness -- depending on one's perspective, Sleeman was either cleaning up a messy business, or using the cloak of law to get rid of Indians who were making themselves problematic for Her Majesty's government. Finally there's D. Sivanandan, the Bombay police commissioner, who is compared to Elliot Ness. But again, it's hard to determine if he's making the streets safe once more, in a Giuliani-like crusade, or if he and his subordinates are simply shooting first and asking questions later -- in a short period of time, they kill 85 "alleged criminals." Alleged by whom? By their killers, that's who. You go