Film: Slumdog Millionaire
Rating: 2.5 on 5 for Film; 4 on 5 for Annoyance
I went to watch Slumdog Millionaire to like it. With an open mind - biased, if at all, towards the makers of the film - their choice of subject, their adherance to the story of a young ignorable boy who makes it big; and, above all, with my unwavering committment to the freedom of art and expression intact. However, I returned from the cinema hall very disapppointed. And scathed.
The director, it appears, has messed up his priorities as a filmmaker. Or, more likely, he has been unable to disguise his real priorities in making this film. For he plays to the gallery time and oft through the film, clearly having made it with the audience in mind rather than the script. He has not treated the subject with care (or, for that matter, even the contentious abandon associated with eccentric directors). I am given to understand (and of which I have no doubt) that Danny Boyle has toiled and persevered for his visuals; been meticulous and finicky about his sets; and planned out his screenplay with appropriate fickle-mindedness and detail. But he has not worked hard in getting beneath the sheets of the poverty and strife he seeks to brings to the screen; in digging out the true pieces of life from the wealth of Mumbai's slum-canvas. Pulling a rickshaw around Calcutta for months before shooting for The City of Joy hasn't been part of his plans while making SM. He hasn't bothered to learn the language of the violin to make an equal music. In my opinion, he simply misses out on the essence of the character and surroundings of his slumdog protagonist.
Frequently, the film is indeed enjoyable and entertaining once you are able to 'swan out' the occasional musical elements from a literally-crappy symphony (Amitabh Bachhan must have squirmed at his "special appearance" in the movie). The acting is rather patchy through most of the film and the supporting cast has been picked for their suitable faces rather than acting mettle (the child artistes, to their credit, have done a commendable job). The music is fun, though far from Rahman's best work, even in recent times. The lilting, near-haunting melody "Dreams on Fire" is, for me, the highlight of the soundtrack and manages to touch a few delicate strands. Only its instrumental opening bars make it to the movie and, in any case, the song being entirely in English reduces its appeal (when compared to "Jai Ho") as a release single which is likely to win awards. Indeed, if SM had been an ordinary movie without its trailing accolades and recognitions, it may have made an entertaining Saturday evening where you 'also went for a movie'. But with the global publicity, the local controversies and the general appreciation it commanded week after week through the beginning of this year, it was certain that SM would never be reviewed in a comfort lounge. It would be subject to incisive surgery and careful scrutiny with critics committing to clear positions of view, though unsurprisingly, most of them taking the convenient side.
Make no mistake - this is no American Beauty or Crash by a long way off, both of which can easily invite uncomfortable questions on how-to-portray-my-country-in-cinema debate. No, for those are films which do justice to the subject and are backed with superlative screenplay and enthrallingly-restrained direction. Doubtless, Crash and American Beauty are not intended to 'export' a story from a world relatively-unknown to a far-away audience - they are American films designed for the American viewer. So they do not have the burden of creating a grounds-up understanding of the story for the westerner which Slumdog did. Or the fascinatingly-productive financial opportunity. But at the end of it all, films should seldom, if ever, be judged on the demographics around them - they should be relished as pure cinema and art and criticised or recommended for just that.
Slumdog may be making millionaires with a million airs today (save for the supremely-humble, ever-at-peace-with-his-success, the magnetic and sheer genius which is A R Rahman) after having swept The Golden Globes, the BAFTAs and possibly even the Oscars eventually for its "sensitive and bold portrayal of the realities of a third-world nation" - lovable, lappable qualities for the often-spiritually-devoid and judgement-biased western audiences and critics, forming a generous dose of their source of sustenance.
For me, however, it will remain an annoying aberration in memory when it comes to cinema - an easily-forgettable also-ran film which, rather explicably, well, made a lot of money. And as Danny walks up the red carpet with a perennial, inconsequential, this-is-my-life-my-moment Anil Kapoor by his side, I will watch with an amused smile from my living room couch.
