Everyone in Indian Summers, PBS Masterpiece’s latest epic set in Simla toward the end of the British Empire’s reign of terror (oops, I mean “twilight era of the British empire” like the website says) is Hot. Even the ugly people are beautiful. Even the – gasp – Untouchables are educated and well dressed. One Untouchable gets invited to a fancy party hosted by the Viceroy of India Lord Fumble Dork (kidding! Noooooo idea what dude’s name is) and hits the dance floor with the Viceroy’s wife, and it’s clearly the most action she’s seen in years. Jaya, another Untouchable, has a lippy pout and fabulous enough tresses to give Julia Roberts’ Pretty Woman’s freshly fucked locks (FFL) a serious run for their money. Even dead on the coroner’s table after being bludgeoned to death Jaya looks good. Indian businessman Ramu Sood, who’s accused of killing her, gets beat up by the British police (Indian Lives Matter! Not!) and he still looks good too with his big goo goo eyes and thick hair. Dang! How do those colored people do it?

In addition to being hot, the characters all have The Intense Smouldering Stare. Maybe it’s a pre-requisite for hotness? Dunno, but stare they do – longingly into each other’s eyes and at each other’s butts and lips, at the gorgeous scenery, at themselves in the mirror. The British characters, especially the dudes, have this Jesus Christ I Can’t Believe How Important I Am stare too (especially when having to deal with – sigh – unruly natives like Gandhi) and I get it ‘cause I can’t believe they’re so important either. Most of the Indian characters sport a Damn Am I Really Getting Hosed This Badly by a People Who Just Started Bathing stare, which I also get, and at one point or another ALL the characters have the Does Anyone Else Get Where This Story Line’s Headed And if So Could You Let a Brutha Know stare. My dad and I had it too sitting in the living room trying to figure out what the hell was going on, especially the first four episodes.

Just about everyone and everything Swoons and/or Sways in Perfect Lighting. The Eat Cakes (young European and American women looking for husbands) swoon as their lovers hoist up their frocks and take them from behind. Afterwards, they smooth their hair and get back to the very serious business of ordering the Indian staff around, their aforementioned flowery shifts swaying on their lithe figures as they storm about. In the markets, where the tropical light filters just so, the vibrant, multi-colored fabrics sway in the 120-degree breeze. On the estates perfectly coiffed trees and shrubs provide just the right amount of swooning greenery cover for illicit lovers to meet and suck face.

And suck face they do, y’all. I mean they are doin’ it and doin’ it and doin’ it well! Why pay for Cinemax with all of this on PBS? Was Prince’s Do Me Baby playing in the background when Aafrin and Alice finally decided to Get Down On It (to quote noted post-colonial scholars Kool and the Gang) or was that just me? I’m not mad – somebody’s got to do it but what, no one has a job? Cramps? Malaria? The only person who isn’t getting after it is missionary Doug Raworth. He’s got a serious love thang for Leena Prasad, one of the staff at the orphanage he runs. She’s got the fever for him too but the vise his social climbing wife Sarah has got his nuts in is just too tight – for now. Everyone else is busy, busy, busy though!

Is there any plot other than The Nasty you ask? Well, not so much – or, rather, not that’s worth mentioning anyway. Mostly it’s the same ole same ole – British government officials knocking back a few cocktails and raping and pillaging and stealing their way across yet another place other than England (for how this works out for them please change channel to CNN and see Afghanistan, Iraq and a couple of other hot spots). If you’re looking for a way to keep the summer lovin’ going and ward off the shorter days, colder nights thing though, Indian Summers is it!