Monday, February 2, 2009

Slum Dog Millionaire... through a viewer's lens

Feels a bit strange to come out after being "snowed under" - hibernating - for a good length of time - the ciliary muscles of the brain probably may take a bit longer to adjust to the luminescence of blogging..
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Had been to see 'Slumdog Millionaire' a day ago. Basking in the lime light of glory, bathed in the choicest of superlatives by reviewers, the film rides on a high - both in critical acclaim and at the box office, probably the world over. But to be honest, I am a bit lost now, strained for words that will best describe my feel..
"...This is a breathless, exciting story, heartbreaking and exhilarating at the same time, about a Mumbai orphan who rises from rags to riches on the strength of his lively intelligence. The film's universal appeal will present the real India to millions of moviegoers for the first time....'
Writes an acclaimed critic...
"..It is a Dickensian tale set in a merciless, mesmerizing city with no time for minor detailing quibbles, with characters speaking not as they naturally would but as the madcap narrative demands, and reality itself breathlessly bending over backwards to accommodate the frenzied energy of Anthony Dod Mantle's disarmingly honest camera...".
Writes another, and let me be honest - I'm lost. Having been through this movie, I asked myself this question several times - where would this movie calibrate itself, when pitched against an array of brilliantly cast movies - a few of those not being able to catapult itself into the world of fame notwithstanding. I threw that question upon myself as I do firmly believe that any creative work will find its own slot, its own niche. It will position itself where it rightly belongs - like water finding its level.

Incontinence of the critical acclaims, syndicated reviews and journalistic narratives notwithstanding, IMO 'Slumdog millionaire' is certainly not a great movie - an above-average movie at best. It is a 'Micheal Bevan' in the world of the celluloid - may have grossed millions of greenback at the box office, but lacks in the poise, the grace, and the class that a piece of art at higher levels of greatness, superlative levels of creativity (which this movie is attempted to be placed at) ought to have. Yes - the production quality is excellent, the framing by Anthony Dod Mantle is superb, the sound recording is good, the editing pattern is "differently" different etc., but do such things by themselves make a movie - or 120 minutes of celluloid frames that, for its very existence, essentially rely on human eyes' persistence of vision - a stand-out creation? Those are integral components of a good cinema, yes admitted - but they do not by themselves make up the 'whole'? There is that uncanny knack, that a movie-maker ought to get a handle on, of getting the right blend of creative contributions from several people and of being able to mix them up in the crucible of one's own creative fire, that results in a good movie - in a way no different from 2 parts of hydrogen combining with one part of oxygen to form one measure of water. The molecular organics of a good movie remains similar - neither abundance nor scarcity of its constituent elements will get it right.

I once again introspect - am I being unfair to the creators of this movie if I write such? Probably yes, if I just end the post here, without writing a few lines about my 'why's..Why do I think SDM is perhaps over-rated, and not substantially worthy of the acclaims that are being showered on it.

The most singular, perhaps the stand-out, reason, IMO, where SDM did not get it right is the brittle, fragile story-line of its. There could be a sparkles in patches, but it falls way short of the brilliance of a story line that gives the movie the strongest back bone. Vikas Swarup, a career diplomat by profession, is the original author (see here). I haven't read this novel of his, so am unable to comment on it, but his web-site indicates that changes have been made on, or adaptations have been done to , his story, and probably expectedly so. In fact, that he himself admits that it is hard for any author to be completely happy with adaptations done to his story speaks for itself. A few patches - to list some:
  • The movie opens with scenes in which various kinds of torture are being perpetrated on Jamal Malik. In which country is this taking place? India - of all places? Come on - gimme a break.. can anyone imagine a contestant of a popular TV show, on the verge of creating history, being whisked away by the police on suspicion that he was cheating? That too in a place like Mumbai almost enveloped by the prowling vulturous eyes of print-media, visual-media, citizen journalists, what not - leave alone members of the public?
  • The producer of the show chooses to remain a mute helpless witness to the entire sequence, without being able to do anything, without an iota of thought as to what happens to the shoot the next day??? What kind of TV producer is him??
  • Jamal Malik, an 18 year old, being tortured to the third degree for the whole night and then being released the next day - that is to say in captivity for almost 24 hours, but he remains fresh as a cucumber for the shoot .. after such torture including electrocution in high voltage? Can the script writer go to such ridiculous levels?
  • Can you ever imagine for a TV show like this, that the host PremKumar, the celluloid hero that he is shown to be, tries to make fun of Jamal - saying he is chaiwala, etc. etc.?
  • If it is "his show" as he is shown murmuring to himself, for what reason on earth is he trying to do all this?
  • Does the scrip writer try to imply that PremKumar is slowly falling jealous on Jamal - else what else explains his animosity - subdued and innate though, towards Jamal? Can anyone pick out a reason why the host of a popular show, besides being a popular actor himself, shows such malice towards a young boy, who happens to be born in the slums and has the job as a call-centre assistant?
  • Even assuming that PremKumar believes Jamal is cheating, does he have at least a shred of an evidence to give a secret tip-off to the police? Will, or can the police, take the boy into custody without any provable, cognizant crime having been perpetrated? Which police will extend such kind of custodial toture, with none whosoever seeming to have filed any complaint?
  • A host of factual errors line up in the script, which is indeed unpardonable, the notable among them being the song "Darshan Do Ghanshyam Naath" being shown attributed to 16th century poet "Kavi Surdas", whereas it was written by Shri Gopal Singh Nepali for the movie Narsi Bhagat (1957).
  • This link will in fact present a number of goof ups that the script has made - both major and minor.
We can possibly go on and on, but to me the point is already made. A script with so many of holes is simply pedestrian, but a mountain is being made out of this mole - that is where I think the problem lies. One does not need to show nauseating scenes to imbibe and inject such a feel into viewer's minds. If a movie has to evoke a feel of "reality" is it a must that the so-called "realistic" scenes need to be interjected into the movie like that scene in which a constipated young Jamal goes through a long defaecation process and thereafter taking a full dive into the pot of human faeces with his nosedrills closed with one hand, to have a glance of "Amitabachan" ? What was that scened supposed to be conveying - I don't have a clue really!!!

There are films that have attempted at selling poverty and slum life to the overseas audiences for obvious gains. I hate to believe that this is one such movie, but be that as it may, my stance is vehemently opposed to doing so with pretensions - under the guise of pretended greatness. Film making is a sublime art that needs deft touches, sensitive eyes, superlative artistry, and above all unqualified honesty and intelligence. It is indeed an art to translate feelings of agony, pathos or happiness into celluloid frames by reflecting such emotions as undercurrents or shades permeating through the frames, and make the viewers feel such emotions. Doing that by over-playing emotions is sheer mediocrity.

Mediocrity is not a crime, but pretension is beyond pardon - to me..

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