Only that's not exactly what I got, and I had a clue early on. Jess's mother, and practically all the traditional Hindus, came off like birdbrains, wedded to tradition and opposed to Jess's passion for soccer (Indian girls aren't supposed to play sports; mainly they're supposed to look for a husband) for no reason beyond mindless adherence to The Way It's Always Been Done. The film's attitude toward these characters is devoid of any measure of respect or affection; they're simply annoyances and objects of mockery. (The lone exception is Jess's father, who doesn't seem to care about tradition but defers to her mother and worries that Jess'll run into racial bigotry while playing soccer.)

Now as a Christian, I have no stake in defending Hindu ways, per se, and grounds for critiquing numerous aspects of them. But I've learned to be uneasy when I see a whole culture's tradition dismissed with a snicker or a sneer, without so much as an attempt to explain why it's wrong, much less to understand it. Wrong it may well be, but it's a bad habit to simply presume the superiority of the ways we just happen to live today, and the ridiculousness of older ways. That habit can cut against traditional western culture — with all its Christian influences — just as easily.

And that's just what ends up happening in Bend It Like Beckham. We meet a British girl (Jules) whose mother also opposes her daughter playing soccer (she thinks it unfeminine) and also comes off as a ludicrous twit (she gets it into her head that Jess and Jules are having a lesbian affair, and spends much of the movie in a comic fret about it). We meet a male Indian friend of Jess's who turns out to be homosexual and reveals himself to Jess: Naturally (since she's all westernized) she's cool with that, and naturally he's portrayed as likeable, sensitive and all-around noble (he offers to join Jess in a sham marriage in order to get her parents' permission for her to move to America). And just to hammer the point home, when Jules finally dispels her mother's fears about her sexuality, she makes sure to rebuke mom for her outlandishly outdated attitudes. "So what if I'm gay?" she declares indignantly. "What's the problem? Being a lesbian isn't that big of a deal!"

Ah yes, so what? It's not really a question; it presumes there's no good answer and that only a hopeless Neanderthal would imagine otherwise. It's par for the course because, as I said before, presumption is what this kind of movie is all about. It doesn't bother to argue its perspective; it just presumes that any perspective besides its own (hip, trendy, secular) is thoroughly absurd, and invites the audience to join in snickering at the backward traditionalists.

What's remarkable is that those who hold this perspective can regard themselves as enlightened and broadminded. In fact, though, their attitude is narrowmindness masquerading as broadmindedness — prejudice disguised as antiprejudice. Think about it: Throughout human history, most people across nearly all cultures have found something wrong with homosexuality. Shouldn't sheer curiosity (if nothing else) make you wonder if there are some good reasons why? But that question never even comes up. We're supposed to brush off all those people as just bigots and ignoramuses — every last one of them, apparently. We're not to explore the possibility that maybe they knew something we don't.

The least we can say about this attitude is that it's mindless — much like the moms of Jess and Jules are portrayed as being. But I think it's worse than that.

People who pass along longstanding cultural traditions and ideas — even bad traditions and ideas — usually at least have the virtue of paying tribute to their parents and grandparents. There's a certain humility in that. True, they may fall into idolatry — making gods of their ancestors instead of the true God. But at least they're subjecting themselves to someone else's authority, accepting that they're not the moral arbiters of the culture, let alone the cosmos.

By contrast, people whose answer to any challenge to their preferences is "so what?" — or "it's my life and I can do anything I want with it" — are trying to play God themselves. They're not just claiming that their position is right and that of their critics is wrong. They're claiming that they get to define right and wrong. Good isn't something that exists independent of their preferences; it's invariably synonymous with their preferences.

The trouble is, of course, that it's hard to convince ourselves of this deep down; it's too arrogant, too convenient. If we want to believe it (as many of us very much do) that means trying to discredit (or just plain silence) all those nagging moral voices from across the centuries. One way to do that is the Bend It Like Beckham way; mockery. Another way — the more common way — is to pretend the other side doesn't exist at all. This is what happens in a lot of TV shows and movies, where you're not supposed to know anyone exists who opposes (say) sex outside marriage on principle. If you only knew what popular entertainment tells you, you'd think the only decisions anyone ever makes about sex are whether to have sex with a particular person at a particular time. The question is always whether it's right "for me," never whether it's right at all.

It's bogus, but sometimes it works — at least up to a point, at least long enough to rationalize things you'll later regret. Fact is, surround yourself with enough pop culture and you are likely to soak up its assumptions. That's especially true if you're away from home for the first time: You may be tempted to regard your parents' teachings as archaic. (C'mon, out here in real world everyone's having sex; surely it's OK "if we love each other".)

That's all the more reason to consume less pop culture and more ancient culture. It's worth considering whether those earlier generations with their moral rules got them from living in the real world — from dealing with social and moral realities that haven't been rendered irrelevant by birth control. It's worth considering the words of the early 20th century essayist G.K. Chesterton, who wrote:

Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about. All democrats object to men being disqualified by the accident of birth; tradition objects to their being disqualified by the accident of death.

In short, it's worth considering whether the old folks really did know something we don't.