Slumdog Millionaire is a huge, heartfelt declaration of "See, I told you so, self" for everybody who, at one point in time, thought, "Man, school is overrated. I'd learn much more out in the real world." Or, for the much more brutally-frank, "Fuck school, it's a waste of time."
Not saying that Slumdog Millionaire is anti-classroom. In fact, school and it's many threads are non-existent. But the film, directed by the masterful-chameleon-of-a-filmmaker Danny Boyle, is a home run of Ryan Howard measure, an exhilirating and kinetic testament to the power of the human experience. The small details learned throughout daily routines, and happenings both painful and joyous. It's a really great piece of cinema gold, one I hope sneaks into the Oscar/Golden Globe awards season whilrwind current and muscles around the fancier, higher-profile comp. It's that damn good.
Comes out on November 12, in limited release, but I was lucky enough to catch an advance screening earlier. The main attraction for me was Boyle, a director who totally reinvents himself with every project. Trainspotting. Shallow Grave. 28 Days Later. Sunshine. All films I love, and admire, and marvel at from time to time. Thematically and genre-wise, the Manchester, England-born Boyle has no classification; in terms of visual and storytelling styles, though, he's consistent as hell, in a positive way. He takes chances with his camera, shooting from angles others would never think of, encouraging his editors to slice-and-dice scenes into sickly-dope frenzies. Color schemes change from bright to dark, too, yet you never feel lost or confused. Somehow, he gels it all into one pot, and the results are far from chunky. Or clunky.
[Boyle]
With Slumdog Millionaire, Boyle has a field day in a personally-unchartered land: India. The story, adapted from a book called Q&A, seems a bit goofy, at first---this 18-year-old kid from Mumbai is a contestant on the Indian version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, and he's killing it. Nailing every question, shocking the world. But right before he's set to answer the final, $10 million inquiry, he's arrested and detained by the police department under suspicion of cheating. In their eyes, how could a measly 18-year-old know so much? Something's afoul, right? Wrong, and the kid, Jamal Malik, re-watches his performance with the skeptical Police Inspector and explains how he knows each answer. In doing so, though, we're transported through his rollercoaster of a hard life, from watching his mother killed during a religious riot, to surviving amongst a group of criminals-in-training with his older brother, Salim, to experiencing evolving-love with the girl of his dreams, Latika.
The storytelling here is so rich, so deep. Boyle frames the flashbacks and backstory developments with the interrogation between Jamal and the Inspector, weaving back and forth from the past, to the present, and back slightly to the recent past of his gameshow appearance. It's never jarring, or even barely muddled. Each question presented by the snarky, suave Who Wants To Be... host continues the story of Jamal's turbulent past.
Which American President's face appears on the U.S. $100 bill?
Who is credited with the invention of the revolver gun?
To Jamal's growing surprise, he's hit with question-after-question of shit he knows, though the answers are taken from often-painful memories. Dark times that we recall alongside him.
First off, the acting here is pretty much flawless on all fronts, largely-rookie thespians who are actually teenagers. A dude named Dev Patel plays Jamal, and he's stellar. Tall and lanky, he's not an imposing individual, and he portrays Jamal with genuine good will and morality, yet with eyes that ooze heartache and emotional bruising. When he hurts, you hurt, and when shit goes his way, you're ready to stand up and clap it up. Same goes for sexy-young-thang Freida Pinto, who plays 18-year-old Latika. Besides the fact that she's sexy-as-a-motherfucker, blessed with a face so gorgeous you'll think it's computer-generated or some shit, Pinto is equally good at generating compassion.
[Ms. Pinto, looking cute as ever...she looks a lot like that actress Sarah Shahi, for those who know her; Shahi was in The L Word, and was one of Leah Remini's friends in Old School, you know, the one who was deep-throating that cucumber a bit too well...no, zero bells rung? Ahh, fuck it...Shahi is also hot, easier said that way]
And, in the end, the persistent love between Jamal and Latika is the heart and soul of Slumdog Millionaire. This is essentially a love story, one padded by copious amounts of conflict. The final scene is a real crowd-pleaser, a happy ending that's totally earned and impossible to deny.
In other ways, Slumdog Millionaire is a modern-day Charles Dickens tale, the rags-to-riches tale of a hard-on-his-luck little boy. Some parts Tom Sawyer, other doses Huckleberry Finn. It's dynamite storytelling, I'm tellin' you.
Boyle, wisely and bravely, gives the sentimental proceedings heavy splashes of visceral energy, keeping things honest by capturing Jamal's tragedy-and-violence-soaked past with real honesty. There's the time back when he was no older than eight years old, when he and his brother, homeless, were picked up by a savior-turned-captor-and-exploiter, a gangster-like fiend who'd send his "slumdog" (homeless, vagabond, slum-living) kids out to earn money, through hustles such as begging and singing. Realizing that blind singers have bigger earning potential, for sympathy's sake, though, their "boss" finds the best singers in the group, knocks them out with chloroform, pours acid into their eye sockets, and then scoops the eyeball out with a spoon. The scene where we learn this is a gut-wrench and a half.
Slumdog is, hands down, one of the top three films I've seen in 2008 thus far. I know a great one when I see it, and I'd even put this above my current-Holy-Grail-of-modern-horror Inside...I'm not so horror-centric that I can't let a crowd-pleasing drama knock a gore-ride off its throne. An equal opportunist, M.B. is.
The direction is full of verve and endlessly impressive. The story is multi-faceted and deft at running the emotional gamut. The performances are all tried and true. And, most importantly, it celebrates humanity. Book smarts aren't always more beneficial than street smarts, as Jamal would tell you (Jamal never spent a day in a classroom, yet he's as intelligent and worldly as they come). Life experience, in the grand scheme of things, trumps formal education, and Slumdog Millionaire shows just how the mind can mature and improve by simply meeting somebody new.
In the same breath, I've met a new film that I now love. If I had it on DVD, I'd watch it again right now.
Once it comes out, hunt it down and see it. You'll feel the better and richer for having done so. Guy-who-was-a-scout-for-two-weeks-only-to-quit-because-the-meetings-impeded-on-his-precious-Ninja-Turtles-viewing-schedule's honor.
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