Slumdog Millionaire…
It is very easy to eulogize the movie as the number of awards won by it so far & set to win on “the Premier Day” on 22nd Feb may act as a titillating factor.
But, unfortunately, there are other factors also…
a) Is it an Indian movie?—a nationalistic feeling, given that the director, producer & some tech stuff are non-Indian. I think, this is nothing but sort of “Nazi zealot”... with so much infusion of technology, thoughts & themes between “east- west” art & culture, no one really cares. Do we really bother about the “cut, copy, paste” allegations against almost all Hindi movies—the fight scene, the tattoo sign, the rhythm of the song track, the theme… On the other hand, this movie is based on an Indian fiction, located on the most talked-about Indian city, acted upon by Indian artists (barring a few). Though the protagonist has been acted by a Brtish national of Indian origin, a recent Bengali movie heroine has been from Germany. But that Bengali movie remains a tepid non-significant one. Most importantly, every minute of the movie captures Indian values, Indian thought process, Indian psychological dilemma, Indian valor…
b) Success of the movie on account of “selling of poverty”--- similar sort of term used against “Pather Panchali”, “The White Tiger” & so many… Put in simplest terms, as long as there is poverty it will find place in stories, movies, songs… If smart Hindi movies can set its location on Switz, depict gorgeous detailed dizzying rich marriage ceremonies, delve deep into homosexuality then it should also set its location on slums, depict heart-rendering sensuous detailed translucent life styles of slum-dwellers, delve deep into child prostitution. Because both are true. I don't even feel comfortable with this need to define our country. Because it's bigger than that! How can one define India? There is no one language, there is no one culture. There is no one religion, there is no one way of life. There is absolutely no way one could draw a line around it and say, "This is India" or, "This is what it means to be Indian." The whole world is seeking simplification. It's not that easy. I don't believe that one clever movie or one clever book can begin to convey what it means to be Indian. Of course, every fiction writer or movie maker tries to make sense of his/her world and there is nothing wrong about it.
Having settled the issues I think I can safely say that the movie is not a master piece. It never transcends the boundaries of contemporary movies and fails to catapult into the classical & art movies genre.
But it certainly touches the human chord and connects with the audience. It has a self –professed language of human expression of yearning and joy which are brilliantly portrayed by the child artists. Cinematography, presentation, editing, casting are superb and give an edge over other movies. Unlike Tare Zamin Par, it is not laden with 5-6 songs. But still proves that Music Director can be nominated for Oscar. That’s the beauty and charm of this movie. Bollywood may concentrate on quality and not the number of the songs—more than 2-3 songs in a movie always negate the quality and chance of winning international acclaim. Once in a while Bollywood may wean itself off cheap money.
For me, the movie is a dizzying microcosm of modern India.
Will it win Oscar?
Certainly it will. And in the main category.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Q & A--A REVIEW
“Do you have ‘Q & A’?”
I enquired at the Book Store, local & popular, on my way home, a late evening languid journey. The day was suffused with motley voices--vendors, maintenance personnel, security guards—all bumping into each other. Ironically, the disturbed mind desired further distraction—a new fiction.
“No”,
came the stunning voice, once again confirming my belief that negative answer in Bengal always sounds more convincing than a positive one. I could feel a weird smile appearing, unintentionally, greeting the salesman. But just before it could recede to normal position, I blurted out,
“Don’t you have Slumdog…”
“Oh, ya. Certainly”, his swiftness proving my self-professed conviction about Bengal wrong.
Once SM was in possession I felt pity for the poor author—the cover page flaunting the movie name, the author banished to a miniscule space.
But, yes, I was again proved wrong.
Having been through with the story, I strongly feel, there could not have been possibly a more apt title than SM. Q & A was way behind. The fiction is entirely on the slums, its inhabitants, their restless, stubborn & translucent life styles—the Q&A session being a well-crafted pattern/design to lure the readers till the end. I think that human relationships and the divisions between human beings are more brutal and straightforward in slums than those in “normal places”(where we live!), where everything is hidden behind walls under a veneer of urban sophistication.
The fiction is fiercely fast paced & laden with humour born out of darkness. But, most importantly, what it has been capable of generating is a scientific exactitude of depicting a feeling of “Nothingness, Non-existence” by the recognized part of our society.
There is always only one side of the river in our (so-called) civilized society; the other side, though visible & quite obvious, is being simply refused to be acknowledged by the stronger side. The marginal sections of the society—the beggars, the scavengers, the prostitutes, the servants, the maids, the cooks, the drivers—though an integral part of the scheme of things are treated as non-existence, a passing forgettable memory in the course of our journey. A Nothingness. A Non-existent. A Non-entity.
The undertone, the evocative smells, the muffled voices of these marginal people may be quite similar to that of “The White Tiger”, though SM is certainly not rich in literary content and smacks of “Bollywood imaginary boldness”.
The quality of narration is very simple, straight from the heart, at times morally strenuous but quite enthralling all the way through.
Overall, one enjoys the walk, the light seeping through the lives of the characters, silently, imparting a feeling of liquid shimmering. And most importantly, even though one experiences certain incredulous things, the truth is apparent.
“All you need to do is to reach out and pluck it.”
I enquired at the Book Store, local & popular, on my way home, a late evening languid journey. The day was suffused with motley voices--vendors, maintenance personnel, security guards—all bumping into each other. Ironically, the disturbed mind desired further distraction—a new fiction.
“No”,
came the stunning voice, once again confirming my belief that negative answer in Bengal always sounds more convincing than a positive one. I could feel a weird smile appearing, unintentionally, greeting the salesman. But just before it could recede to normal position, I blurted out,
“Don’t you have Slumdog…”
“Oh, ya. Certainly”, his swiftness proving my self-professed conviction about Bengal wrong.
Once SM was in possession I felt pity for the poor author—the cover page flaunting the movie name, the author banished to a miniscule space.
But, yes, I was again proved wrong.
Having been through with the story, I strongly feel, there could not have been possibly a more apt title than SM. Q & A was way behind. The fiction is entirely on the slums, its inhabitants, their restless, stubborn & translucent life styles—the Q&A session being a well-crafted pattern/design to lure the readers till the end. I think that human relationships and the divisions between human beings are more brutal and straightforward in slums than those in “normal places”(where we live!), where everything is hidden behind walls under a veneer of urban sophistication.
The fiction is fiercely fast paced & laden with humour born out of darkness. But, most importantly, what it has been capable of generating is a scientific exactitude of depicting a feeling of “Nothingness, Non-existence” by the recognized part of our society.
There is always only one side of the river in our (so-called) civilized society; the other side, though visible & quite obvious, is being simply refused to be acknowledged by the stronger side. The marginal sections of the society—the beggars, the scavengers, the prostitutes, the servants, the maids, the cooks, the drivers—though an integral part of the scheme of things are treated as non-existence, a passing forgettable memory in the course of our journey. A Nothingness. A Non-existent. A Non-entity.
The undertone, the evocative smells, the muffled voices of these marginal people may be quite similar to that of “The White Tiger”, though SM is certainly not rich in literary content and smacks of “Bollywood imaginary boldness”.
The quality of narration is very simple, straight from the heart, at times morally strenuous but quite enthralling all the way through.
Overall, one enjoys the walk, the light seeping through the lives of the characters, silently, imparting a feeling of liquid shimmering. And most importantly, even though one experiences certain incredulous things, the truth is apparent.
“All you need to do is to reach out and pluck it.”
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