How I Feel About Slumdog Millionaire

It was one nail-biting ride. I was really hoping Jalal would be smart enough to know Prem Kumar was fooling him with the wrong answer, and he exceeded my every Bollywood expectation. I was hoping Lalita wouldn't leave the cell phone in the car even after Salim specifically told her to hang onto it - she lived up to the feminine Bollywood ideal well. And of course, I was keeping my fingers crossed that Salim would repent his evil ways and kill himself in a bathtub overflowing with rupees. No let-downs there either. So all in all, this was Bollywood in true form, Hollywood style, with a spark of genuine earnestness. A well-executed entertainer with what I think was a brilliant story/theme, but with little new to offer and a song and dance number at the end. For those of us unfamiliar with Slumdog's images and themes in either film or everyday life, it was understandably quite a different story, and a much better one.

There are quite a few Desi/Indo nerds out there who either found parts of this movie to be offensive/insensitive/problematic or generally didn't appreciate the "poverty porn" that international audiences so seem to love. I commented on an Uberdesi review along those lines, mainly because 1) I don't know what else people expected from this film given that it was not an Indian production 2) any treatment of this material would have resulted in some degree of insensitivity, probably more so if it were an Indian production 3) why don't Indo nerds have similiar expectations for sensitive and realistic film-making when it comes to the general crap Bollywood is so good at producing? 4) Why do we care so much about India being shown in a poor light when even in a better light, there is a lot to show despite all the India-is-great craziness being thrown around willy-nilly of late? Frankly, I'd rather see some of this than the disgusting opulence displayed by apparently "real" Indians in Bollywood films. And why are Westerners the ones making films like this anyway?

It might be nice to see a film that better shows the "real" or a changing India, or a film that international and disporic audiences can appreciate. Yet we all know that these movies don't sell in either India or abroad. What really sells is the latest Punjabi, wedding-themed foot-stomper that Bollywood copies for us from original music produced in Southeast Asia or the Middle East. I figure that as long as Bollywood is doing this and alternative cinema in India gets continuously ignored, there is no hope but for the likes of Danny Boyle to make movies like Slumdog Millionaire for those who need some happy medium, particularly outside of India. It has clearly come out the winner across several categories in American awards shows thus far, largely due to the novelty of the film in the midst of some pretty bland competitiors (although they are probably technically/artistically superior).

Someone suggested that Amal (2007) should have been last year's Slumdog, but unfortunately, that didn't happen. A few weeks ago, I also saw a little gem of a film, Everybody Says I'm Fine! (2001), that was truer to the various aspects of modern India and Indian life. From what I know, that film went virtually nowhere, but it could have had a future had someone paid more attention to it, and if India stopped nominating films like Paheli or Taare Zameen Pe for the Oscars. I mean, really...?

I have lots more venom to spew at the typical Bollywood fare, Indian film in general, and mostly the South Asian film-goer, but I might have to can it for now lest some of my more devoted friends start hating on me in turn.

On Kal Penn

Some of my earlier posts have expressed slight disdain for over-hyped young South Asians in the media. You would think I'm supposed to have some sort of second-generation pride over their success, but I find most of them rather annoying and disengaged from the "community" they receive credit for representing (or not - some deny having much to do with it in the first place when clearly their popularity is based on some novelty in being South Asian).

One such star who I previously scorned but am about 33% in love with right now is Kal Penn. While I'm no huge fan of the Harold & Kumar movies, I always thought John Cho was amazing and wish he appeared more often in Ugly Betty. I don't know about you, but I've always thought that the quirky and strangely loveable Asian guy is far more inviting than the quirky but annoying Indian guy.

In "The Namesake," Penn didn't have much to do other than be a little confused, and even then, his face doesn't flex much in the way of expression. He's almost too much of an average guy. In fact, every time I look at his face, I feel like I should go back home, accompany my parents to a dinner party, find him spooning butter chicken into his plate at the buffet, and then awkwardly bump into him at the bar.

Enter Dr. Kutner on ABC's "House." If I were ever to date or marry an Indian doctor as per the wish of many, it would have to be a fake one and be Kal Penn-as-Dr. Lawrence Kutner. I find his portrayal oddly intelligent, and I have a 6th sense telling me that this character might be closer to Penn's own personality. Something about having less to express suits Penn, and given that Kutner is a bit mysterious and almost blank at times, the role has done him some good. Even when Kutner is acting up, Penn doesn't get annoying and there isn't butter chicken and a drink flying all over the place.

Clearly, I prefer more Kutner and less Kumar, although with a name like Lawrence Kutner, it's unclear whether the character is supposed to be South Asian or not. All the more intriguing, and all the more reason to watch his story unfold.

Some Requirements

As you know, I have been desperately trying to avoid turning this space into one dedicated to the I-am-single-hear-my-woes song. I have no such song and don't care to compose one. I have, however, recently experienced a fine-tuning of some needs/desires that may affect my future selection of a companion. In other words, I think I actually have some requirements/excuses/odd things I have come up with that seem superficially easy to fulfill but may actually be very hard to, thus buying me a few more years before people really start to worry about me and my reproductive system.

So here we go. Drum roll. The 2 things I absolutely require of a man (I think), are:

1) Must eat mutton (aka, goat meat). Must do so in order to relish and digest goat curry. Goat curry is important in my gastronomic sphere. I really, really like it. I will be sorely disappointed if a strapping young man arrives at Camp Great Neck, Edison, or Howard Beach and is unable to partake in the...goat-curry eating.

2) Must understand my desire to pass on my maiden name to at least one offspring since there are no males in the family to do so. Keeping my maiden name won't really preserve squat unless I can pass it on. I have several arguments for this one, which will appear in another post. Needless to say, I do not think it is unreasonable and will seriously wonder about any person who has a major problem with it, although I reserve the right to change my own mind. Eating goat curry will not make up for a lack of understanding on this one.

Ok, so that's it for now. Not so bad, huh? I am seriously the least picky person alive but I decided that these are some things that matter to me. Feel free to criticize as you wish.

Air & Simple Gifts

A few weeks ago, some butterflies found their way into my stomach. I wasn't sure how I would get through a month of major deadlines at work and upcoming exams/papers. While I tend not to freak out about such things and have achieved a generally zen-like approach to all things Life, I needed to breathe. Yesterday, I finally did. And thankfully, I exhaled to the beauty of "Air & Simple Gifts," the quartet arrangement performed at the inaugural ceremony.

More than the piece itself, the title of this arrangement spoke to me in a thousand unexpected ways. For the last few weeks, there had been no particular thought, in no particular tone and with no particular theme, to express. Like so much of my life, it was a work in transit - from one place to another, from one task to another, from one person to another.

It has been air and simple gifts which I realized gets me through so much. To pause and to breathe, to reflect and appreciate the smallest of things, even to daydream and be bored, has always been my way of coping - otherwise, I tend to lose track of myself and after all, I am sort of my own best friend.

I can't get into the million and one things that made this month closer to enjoyable than just bearable, but they were simple and small; some sweet, some scandalous, some mundane and predictable. So before I get angry and demand something more from the world, let the record show that it's been good and I know it. Here's to the crisp, cold air in New York and the gift of friends who are only a short plane ride away.

At Last...