Poverty porn - my take

Subjectivity and laterality are concepts which have slowly lost out over the last year in all spheres of life. There are numerous such instances in political, social, economic and cultural circles, if we overlook certain lose exceptions. Lets look at just one – films.

The year 2008 ended with one of the biggest box office grossers, Ghajini. Ghajini’s records and box-office stamina should come as a wake-up call to Bollywood film makers that mass masala sells in all kinds of markets including the chic upmarket multiplexes and overseas markets. Critics may not have liked them, clichéd audience who visit their local multiplex for the weekend, might put them down, but the masses love films that stick to the basics and deliver high-voltage entertainment, much like a good, long innings in cricket. With the rogues being put into orbit a regular feature in South Indian movies, mainstream Bollywood got its first taste of hot South Indian masala and stood up to gobble it and then belch in appreciation. The fact that it has become such a roaring Hit with a capital H just goes to show how starved the Hindi audience were for a full-fledged mass potboiler with all the basic ingredients: a cadaverous villian, a blood thirsty hero, diabetically sweet heroine and another with too much of time, love unfinished, tragedy, comedy, songs (oh one of the best albums by the way), dance, and a bloody end. For a start we have cleared our tastes from chic, thematic urbane movies.

But this is not about Ghajini, this is about internationalization of Indian cinema, the panorama becoming complete with Slumdog Millionaire (SM). SM is a typical motley rags to riches tale, woven around a tried and tested formula, one that celebrates fortitude and uprightness in times of adversity. The paean is built on a sheer peer comparison on its canvas, where the protagonist Jamal stands tall in his desire for Latika and to protect his own squeaky clean conscience in the toughest of times even though his own brother Salim loses it in the quagmire of lucre, women and captivating power.

The fascination for formulae just does not end here. SM has swept the Golden Globe awards in terms of best director, best films and best music and stands quite a chance at the Oscars – which coincidentally would be announced a day prior to the Indian premier of the film. At the time of writing this article, the movie had claimed 11 nominations for BAFTA. But what makes it such a darling to the international audience to stand up and take notice. That’s because it is a movie of reassurance. The movie reassures the world that India is still a mythological mess, embroiled in abject poverty, sheer lack of hygiene, of charlatans and dupes to the core, of bribery, of Dharavi – the world’s biggest slumhood and Taj Mahal – the world’s biggest wonder. All this and more is perfectly intertwined and served piping hot interlaced with a humming love story.

From the days of Dominique Lapierre’s City of Joy, Indian cinema which has won international acclaim has been based either on the dangerous underbelly of poverty breeding crime, the diasporic mythological flavor in an Indian setting which fascinates the international audience or the more comedic NRI coming back to look for his bride and finding his roots and in turn stems, branches and leaves. SM has it all. Manic poverty, gooey fanaticism for our stars (the autograph hunting scene for Amitabh Bachchan), the divisive social fabric of religious fervor that has been eternally stoked between Rama and Rahim, pilfer and purloin but strictly for survival and the grittiest tale of endurance of a man and yes he should emerge a winner by the end.

And yes, there is the typical Indian melodrama where however amoral your family gets, he is there for you, for your good and protecting you from evil just as the elder brother risks against the begging business baron or against his own Mafiosi gang to bring happiness-ever-after for his own brother.

And hence the world took notice. In times of such unexpecteds, some things have not changed. So although we might be sending our Chandrayans to the moon, donating millions for sequences for ex US presidents, the root has not changed much. SM thus has stood out as a soothing lullaby, despite two things– a certain AR Rehman who had been a shimmering star already since his association with Andrew Lloyd Webber and the other Ayush Mahesh Khedekar who plays the younger version of the protagonist of Jamal. But in SM, Rehman shows you the difference between genius and god. Its as if he has had enough net practice in Yuvvraj, he comes in blazing with Ghajini as a foreplay. SM from the stable of Rehman is unbridled, orgasmic ecstasy. You could not have asked for more in terms of density of music and variety in deliverables although it really has unused the panache of singers of calibers like Sukhwinder and Sonu Nigam but Mia leaves no stone unturned. Well Rehman can well be turned another ingredient for success. Ayush, on the other hand is like a flow of water. His spontaneity and the innocence on his face hits you with the abruptness with how much the incidents hit him. With so many sub – teen and tween actors showing what they are capable of in their respective cameos, that should be one worrisome factor in days to come for the world watching us with a hawk’s eye.

And true to my Indian spirit, since nothing has changed, I watched it on a DVD smuggled in by one of the coterie of loving relatives dropping in from Firangiland.