Must Love (or Hate) Slumdogs

The little film that went to the Oscars is suddenly the subject of intense debate. Mr. Rushdie, whose book was really "The Memoirs of a Malabar Hill Superdog who married a Dung Goddess" found the tale of a Dharavi dog in deep dung who found a pot of gold and a pretty girl quite implausible. Ms. Roy, purveyor of poetic prose on Matters of Serious Concern like Poverty, also weighed into the debate (there is a lot of money in writing about poverty after all). Slumdog has been called touristic, poverty porn, life-affirming, Bollywood goes to Hollywood and the like. It has no particular politics of its own but has been read politically. India, quite at ease with its drains but very sensitive about the drain inspector’s report, appears to alternate between self-congratulation and phoren/self loathing. Suddenly, the film is freighted with everyone’s hopes, fears, neuroses and anxieties.

Mr. Boyle is a well-known filmmaker but he is not from Hollywood, indeed he himself went to a modest, homecoming celebration of sorts. His movie nearly went straight to DVD till it had its own fairy tale culminating in the Oscars. Slumdog happens to be set in the slums of Mumbai but is hardly a statement about poverty or the slums and that’s an important distinction. The film and screenplay simply marries the source novel with the improbable conventions of Bollywood (transplanted to another genre you see how wildly unrealistic yet good natured these are) and his kinetic style. But it could have really been set anywhere - public housing in Britain, favelas in Brazil, rural China - with the requisite cultural modification. In fact, the film has something of the zeitgeist of the day, an arthouse film set in a non-white country without the standard elements of the white saviour. This zeitgeist maybe cliché tomorrow but for the moment Slumdog rules. Also, the film has some precedence in Black Orpheus, set in Brazil's favelas and directed by a Frenchman and responsible for popularising Bossa Nova (much like Jai Ho reverberates around the globe today). And both Slumdog and Black Orpheus show that a film may be expunged of white characters but not racial politics.

Additionally there seems to be some confusion between making a film and being indebted to the source material. One would think from reading the papers that the betterment of Dharavi's children lies solely in the hands of the makers of the film. Indeed, it is almost as if expiation for making the film, they must pour all the money back into the slum. It is an interesting line of thought, particularly since Dharavi has been extensively filmed, photographed and written about.

In the end, Slumdog is just a film and the Oscars a marketing exercise that awards prizes to popular, well behaved dogs with gravitas. Yet, every year the Oscars are treated with the utmost importance as if they are indeed the final arbiters of great cinema, as if they are life itself. One good outcome of the Oscars may well be that dogs, like monkeys, will enjoy a better reputation in India. Let's start with the cricket. A rebranded Pups of Punjab (Clarke naturally included) may well win the Twenty20 and Vijay Mallya's private jet really should be emblazoned with Bulldog Millionaire.

Image: Afternoon at Dharavi Slum