"All my life I had the choice between hate and love. I chose love and I am here"
- A R Rahman
Good for him, and congratulations on the Oscars. Ditto for Resul Pookkutty. It's great to see good people doing well.
But, as those who may have talked to the Hatter in the last couple of months know, he's not a fan of Slumdog Millionaire. And no, not because he thinks it showed Mumbai or India in a poor light. Why then is the Hatter raining on the party? Read on.
To start with, the movie left the Hatter rather puzzled. There were just too many things out of place. Dev Patel is a debutant, so one musn't be too harsh on him, but he didn't exactly convince anyone of his acting abilities. He managed to look, talk, and hold himself, shall we say, like a young Brit actor rather than a young Mumbai slumdweller. For an edgy, realistic movie as it claimed to be, Slumdog Millionaire alternated between overstatement and simple implausibility. The discerning viewer would have felt more discomfort at that than any of the alleged shocking scenes in the movie.
Forget the portrayal of Mumbai, the slums aren't exactly pretty. Forget the poverty porn - this is a British movie after all, and they probably need that just like Hollywood movies need gratuitous sex. The movie still feels wierd, and all wrong.
Getting your hands on a copy of
Q & A, the book that started it all, is definitely worth it. Reading it answered a lot of the Hatter's questions. It seems like Vikas Swarup wanted to write like Rushdie, but couldn't bring himself to actually do. Starting with the name of the protagonist - Ram Mohammed Thomas - to the situations - the voodoo story for example - to the style, everything is evocative of Magic Realism, specifically the Rushdie variety, except that Swarup cannot seem to bring himself to go the whole hog. Thus, Thomas holds his "sister"'s hand through a convenient hole in the wall which Rushdie wouldn't have needed. Make no mistake, this is a magic realist novel in realist garb.
In the grammar of Magic Realism, a lot of things make sense - the sheer implausibility of the situation,
everything that's nasty about Mumbai manifesting in the life of one kid, the truckload of coincidences that are well beyond plausible, and the like.
Danny Boyle seems to have taken out some of the key (wannabe) genre-signalling elements of the story - the protagonist's name for instance, some of the stories, and couple of the more interesting coincidences - the protagonist going on the show to kill the host, for example. I'd guess he probably did that in the (vain) attempt to make the movie fit his edgy style better. The result is similar to trying to force-fit a Haiku into Iambic pentameter. It just doesn't sound right.
Cliched formulism? Check.
Bad acting? Check.
Missing the point of most of the book? Check.
Delivering an off-key result? Check.
Exactly how bad should a movie be to be fawned over so much these days?