The Explosion (1978)

Tuesday 24 March 2009, 3:31 pm | Comments (0)

The ExplosionI'm not sure if I'm alone on this, but I always tend to associate (mildly but consciously) the book I'm reading with where I obtained it. While second-hand bookstores are chock-full of tomes, intriguingly from God-knows-where, even brand new books can have a story behind them which will often linger in my mind as I read them. I could probably tell you where each of the novels on my bookshelf have come from (many from the other side of the globe), but Hans Heinrich Ziemann's The Explosion stumps me.

The Explosion has been stuffed away amongst my books for an eternity, its unabashed '70s paperback artwork nestled inconspicuously among novels with far less yellowed pages. While collecting a selection of books to bring with me to Sydney, I stumbled across this forgotten possession and, intrigued, placed it in the box I was packing.

A translation of a German novel, The Explosion is clearly inspired by the disaster film fad that swept through Hollywood during the 1970s. All the clichés are in place. There's a tortured hero in the form of Martin Born, the director of a nuclear power station that's controversially set to open near the West German town of Grenzheim. There's a love interest in Anne Weiss, whose passion for the environment is nearly matched by her new-found (though implausible) love for Born. And there's a misguided but ultimately insane villain, whose plot to create awareness of the fragility of the nuclear station ends up causing an unprecedented catastrophe.

Unfortunately, The Explosion also contains those annoying clichés that often ruin disaster stories. For instance, Weiss spends the bulk of the story attempting to save a busload of schoolchildren, encountering a number of far-fetched obstacles along the way (culminating in a gun-toting, power-crazed mayor). And while the novel doesn't end on an entirely happy note (indeed, it does briefly explore the issue of collateral damage, so brilliantly covered in Watchmen), The Explosion ends with an exciting but far-fetched solution to impending disaster.

The Explosion is essentially a real-time novel, akin to the 24-hour format of Dan Brown's novels. And like Brown's books, The Explosion is told via a series of short, punchy chapters, reminiscent of scenes from a movie. Ziemann's well-researched thriller spends its first half examining the pros and cons for nuclear power, while the second part dissects the gruesome effects a nuclear explosion would have upon society. The Explosion's setting of Cold War Germany adds an extra dimension to the novel once the disaster strikes and Ziemann explores its political repercussions.

There are some pacing issues; while the first half builds a suitable amount of tension over the disaster promised on the book's cover, the disaster itself seems curiously underdeveloped. There's also the strange decision to shift the focus away from the characters developed in The Explosion's first half during its second. It almost feels like a 500-page novel stripped down to under 300 pages (most of which feels lost from the second half), or, perhaps more accurately, the novelisation of an unmade film.

Truth be told, The Explosion was probably an artefact I picked up from a used bookstore while on holiday somewhere. Ultimately, it's a solid if unremarkable page-turner that may well have been what that occasion demanded.

The X-Files: Fight the Future (1998)

Tuesday 17 March 2009, 11:32 pm | Comments (0)

The X-Files: Fight the FutureRevisiting 1998's The X-Files: Fight the Future after the release of the disappointing The X-Files: I Want to Believe only amplifies the strengths of the former and the flaws of the latter.

Unlike the "Is that it?" reaction elicited by last year's long-awaited sequel, Fight the Future proves itself to be one of the best TV-to-film transitions ever, deftly turning an already-cinematic show into a bona fide theatrical film.

Mostly filmed between The X-Files' fourth and fifth seasons, but released and set between its fifth and sixth, Fight the Future represents The X-Files at its creative peak. While fans of the series are no doubt better positioned to understand its tangled conspiracy yarn within the context of the show's ongoing story, the movie also offers a terrific starting point for franchise newcomers.

David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson reprise their roles as FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, believer and sceptic, who discover evidence suggesting a Dallas building was bombed in order to destroy several human corpses infected with an extraterrestrial virus.

X-Files regulars Frank Spotnitz and Chris Carter (who together wrote the script) and director Rob Bowman make the most of cinema's broader canvas, both narratively and technically. Fight the Future expands on The X-Files' ambitious plot, presenting an epic conspiracy tale spanning four continents and 35,000 years in history. Bowman makes certain that every extra cent of the film's sizeable budget winds up on screen. All of the show's staples are present and accounted for – paranormal occurrences, shadowy conspirators meeting to ambiguously discuss their plans, unresolved sexual tension between Mulder and Scully – but on a much grander scale. A Hitchcockian chase through a corn crop is just one of a number of memorable action scenes.

The impact of agents' investigation – which sees them hung out to dry by their own agency – allows the film to examine the issue of trust, a key theme that runs throughout the series, characterised by its popular catchphrase: "Trust no-one". Infiltrating military facilities and chasing rogue tanker trucks, Mulder and Scully find they have only each other to depend on, and the will-they-or-won't-they? romantic subplot is only one aspect of their engaging relationship.

Most of the series' recurring characters appear, including Mitch Pileggi as assistant director Walter Skinner, Tom Braidwood, Dean Haglund, Bruce Harwood as conspiracy theorists The Lone Gunmen and William B. Davis as the show's iconic villain known only as the Cigarette-Smoking Man. In addition, Martin Landau is superb as Alvin Kurtzweil, a paranoid doctor whose suspicions may or may not be founded.

The film falters during an action-dominant third act that fails to give any meaningful payoff to the fireworks, but Fight the Future, in true X-Files style, delivers an open ending that leaves the viewer with an insatiable urge to continue untangling the labyrinthine plot via the popular TV series.

Topkapi (1964)

Thursday 12 March 2009, 11:21 pm | Comments (0)

TopkapiI probably should have prefaced yesterday's fairly positive review of Brett Ratner's After the Sunset with the following: I'm a huge fan of the heist flick. Who hasn't been stuck in line at a bank or bored in a museum only to find themselves wondering how they could purloin something valuable from the premises – and get away with it? The closest I've ever come was when I forgot to return my baggage claim card at Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum. I'm counting on that card becoming very valuable one day.

There's something fascinating about a genre that positions a thief as the hero of a film. Ethically, you shouldn't root for the protagonist, but the joy of a heist film – and, particularly, a heist film done well – is that it leaves the viewer with a sense of appreciation. You admire the thief for pulling off what is often a remarkably elaborate crime.

For a superior, genre-defining heist comedy, look no further than Jules Dassin's Topkapi, the 1964 adaptation of Eric Ambler's The Light of Day. It is, quite simply, a heist film with everything: a gorgeous setting, a terrific cast, a good dose of humour and most importantly, a great caper.

Peter Ustinov landed an Oscar for his role here as Arthur Simpson, a bumbling small-time shyster, himself unwittingly duped by all and sundry. After Simpson is recruited by a pair of thieves posing as tourists (played by Melina Mercouri and Maximilian Schell) to drive their car across the Turkish border, customs officers discover a hoard of arms hidden in the vehicle's body. Simpson agrees to act as an informant for the Turkish government, who erroneously believe a terrorist act is in the offing, in order to guarantee his release. In the process, he becomes entangled in a scheme to lift a priceless dagger from Istanbul's Topkapi Palace.

That Ustinov's (deserved) Oscar was for Best Supporting Actor is a curiosity, as his clueless swindler is central to Topkapi's plot. Simpson is the most amateur of the amateurs drafted by Schell's Walter Harper to pull off his heist. He remains consistently flustered, even though he is oblivious to being duped and used every step of the way. It's a terrific performance for a role that could have easily been as irritating as it is ultimately endearing.

Ustinov outshines the rest of the cast, ranging from Mercouri's rather simple temptress to Robert Morley's brilliant mechanical genius (who gets one of the picture's best sight gags involving a greasy rag). Schell's dark good looks work in his favour as the smooth Harper, while Akim Tamiroff has a lot of fun as the gang's drunken cook.

Topkapi's overarching story is a simple one, but Dassin revels in the smaller details of the heist. Monja Danischewsky's script gives the viewer obscure glimpses at Harper's plot – such as the scene in which Simpson proves his worth by dragging a couch attached to a length of rope across a room – but leaves the puzzle incomplete until the final act. The purposes of the other members of Harper's motley crew, including an acrobat and a toy-maker, are also tantalisingly, but ambiguously laid out in the lead-up to the main event.

And what an event! Topkapi's hugely entertaining heist sets a high bar for the genre, as the crew split up over two locations in order to pull off the daring theft. It's a nerve-racking sequence, wisely devoid of music. The sound of a rope tightening or a cog turning becomes deafening in a void of silence, greatly heightening the sequence's realism. It's equally gorgeous to look at, with Dassin never neglecting the stunning Istanbul scenery, even during the film's climax (from beginning to end, Topkapi is imbued with that travelogue feel so rare in contemporary cinema).

While I won't spoil the heist itself, it should be noted that Mission: Impossible's oft-parodied scene in which Tom Cruise suspends from wires above a series of motion sensors, actually has its roots here. In fact, Topkapi is said to have inspired the original Mission: Impossible television series.

Forty-five years after its release, Topkapi holds up surprisingly well. The editing in the film's opening sequence shows its age, the first act has some minor pacing issues and the movie's final scene is reminiscent of a dated sitcom, but these are just a few flawed moments. Topkapi is a landmark in the heist genre, as sharp, stunning and unique as the jewelled dagger at the centre of its story.

After the Sunset (2004)

Wednesday 11 March 2009, 5:13 pm | Comments (0)

After the SunsetWarning #1: the following is a review of a Brett Ratner film – the much-maligned director who ran the X-Men franchise into the ground with The Last Stand and who gave us the cinematic pairing no-one asked for in the Jackie Chan/Chris Tucker-led Rush Hour series.

Warning #2: it's not an entirely negative review.

After the Sunset, a 2004 heist flick featuring Pierce Brosnan, Salma Hayek, Woody Harrelson, Don Cheadle and Naomie Harris, is a film I've always had an inexplicable soft spot for. Deep down, I know it's not a classic. Heck, superficially, I know it's not a classic. But I do consider After the Sunset a success in that overdone "light-hearted film with a cast of good-looking people set in an even better looking location" genre. Best of all, it's devoid of the kind of self-satisfied smugness that makes the Ocean's films so difficult to endure.

After the Sunset begins where most heist films end, as jewel thieves Max Burdett (Brosnan) and Lola Cirillo (Hayek) retire to the Bahamas after stealing a valuable diamond. In pulling off their last caper, the pair elude Max's FBI nemesis, Stan Lloyd (Harrelson), who's spent the past seven years of his life trying to catch him. When Lloyd shows up in the Caribbean, convinced Max is planning to steal another priceless gem on display in a berthed cruise ship, the pair form an unexpected bond.

Pretty much everything in After the Sunset has been done before and done better – for starters, check out Brosnan's superb remake of The Thomas Crown Affair – but it remains a fun, undemanding, inoffensive caper comedy.

The cast has some enjoyable chemistry; Brosnan and Harrelson make an unlikely comedy duo, sharing a number of the movie's best scenes. Meanwhile, Hayek and Harris' characters are more than just (admittedly, spectacular) eye candy (actually, After the Sunset's women are far more balanced and level-headed than the men). Cheadle's Henri Mooré, a local entrepreneurial gangster, is underused as the film's most intriguing character. Before his unsatisfactory exit, he does deliver one of the movie's best lines after Max discovers Mooré is really American: "Yes, actually, it's Moore. I put the little thing on the 'e'. Matches the culture."

After the Sunset's emphasis is clearly on comedy and characters – there's a particularly nifty gag involving Max and Stan attempting to salvage each other's relationships over dinner – but it's at the expense of the film's flimsy heists, the intricacies of which should be the jewel in a caper film's crown. Sadly, both of the movie's heists are lazily undeveloped, which is a fairly damning flaw for a film of this genre.

Ratner makes extensive use of the gorgeous Bahaman scenery and the cinematography is full of rich, vibrant colour. Meanwhile, veteran composer Lalo Schifrin, the musical genius who gave us the Mission: Impossible theme, delivers a slick, low-key score (though it reaches ridiculous heights of cheese during the movie's romantic climax).

After the Sunset is far from perfect, but there are worse ways to spend an hour and a half. It's a bit like one of those holidays where you sit about and don't do a thing – the time whizzes by quite breezily; just don't expect to have gained anything from the experience.

Win, Lose or Die (1989)

Sunday 8 March 2009, 3:14 pm | Comments (0)

Win, Lose or DieFor readers who aren't hardcore James Bond geeks like me, let me preface this post with a brief explanation of the literary 007 canon.

After James Bond creator Ian Fleming died, his estate commissioned Kingsley Amis to write a new 007 novel under the pseudonym of Robert Markham; the book was to be the first of a series of continuation novels written by different authors but published under the same alias.

Ultimately, the idea stalled after the release of Amis' Colonel Sun in 1968, and aside from a fictional biography exploring Bond's life and a couple of Roger Moore film novelisations, the literary 007 lay dormant until the 1980s when British novelist John Gardner was brought on board.

By far the most prolific continuation novelist, Gardner authored 14 original books, plus two film novelisations. Over the past year or so, I've been slowly making my way through these titles and have just finished his eighth original story: 1989's Win, Lose or Die.

In Bond fandom, Gardner is looked upon as the Roger Moore of the literary Bond: both are seen to have dragged 007 away from his roots, and both are considered to have clung to the character for longer than they should have. But while Moore – who remains a legend among 007 fans – still considers himself an ambassador for the character, the late Gardner expressed a dislike for Bond, even during his tenure.

Gardner did deliver a few excellent Bond novels early in his run, including Icebreaker, Nobody Lives For Ever and Scorpius. By contrast, Win, Lose or Die is Gardner at his most pedestrian. The book sees 007 returned to active duty in the Royal Navy after MI6 gets word that a terrorist organisation has planted moles aboard the HMS Invincible in the lead-up to a top-secret onboard summit between the British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, US President George Bush and Russian Premier Mikhail Gorbachev.

Win, Lose or Die's conceit, which sees the bulk of the story take place onboard the vessel, is both its attraction and its weakness. It's great to see Bond in the navy, a throwback to a section of his life that's largely unexplored, but stuck with the limited canvas of a naval ship, Gardner reduces 007 to the role of detective for far too much of the book.

The absence of some of the Bond staples aren't missed, but Fleming's colourful touch is. Gone are the sweeping descriptions of exotic locations, while Win, Lose or Die's villain – and his organisation – are utterly forgettable; where some of Fleming's best work came from the verbal sparring between Bond and his enemies, here Gardner has the villain exchange a mere two sentences with 007 before he's killed in the book's penultimate chapter.

Win, Lose or Die is also bogged down by some of Gardner's trademark narrative devices; most damagingly, an over-reliance on crosses, double-crosses and triple-crosses. And while Gardner clearly relishes the technical facts in his story, which are fleshed out in complex detail, it's all fairly soulless and mechanical. At times, Win, Lose or Die reads a bit like an instruction manual for a product you never bought.

There's also Gardner's decision to make the three world leaders minor characters in the story, something which doesn't sit right with me. It's a bit too cute. (Nevermind that the last time Margaret Thatcher crossed paths with Bond was during the cringe-worthy final moments of the film For Your Eyes Only.)

It's not a total write-off. Bond's intense relationship with Beatrice Maria da Ricci, the book's heroine, is surprisingly well-handled. There's also some interesting tension between the UK and US and the Russians, as a result of Gorbachev's policy of glasnost; it's an aspect of the story that warranted further exploration. Gardner's choice of location for the book's climactic battle, the tunnels beneath Gibraltar, is a terrific one, but the confrontation itself is perfunctory.

If you're not familiar with the original Bond novels, read Fleming. And if you are familiar with them, re-read Fleming. Gardner's probably only worth a look if you're a die-hard fan like me. Which is why I'll keep reading them until I'm done. As a fan, it's my obligation; win, lose or die.

Watchmen (2009)

Thursday 5 March 2009, 10:19 pm | Comments (0)

WatchmenSo, yesterday I praised the heck out of Watchmen, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' esteemed graphic novel set in an alternate 1985 in which the world is teetering on the brink of nuclear war. Does the much-hyped film version live up to the expectations that accompany any adaptation of such acclaimed source material?

For the most part, yes. Director Zack Snyder captures much of the spirit of the graphic novel, which offered a refreshingly cerebral take on the "superhero genre". Fans of Watchmen will relish seeing the book's unique imagery represented in live action form. Even as someone who only discovered Watchmen less than a week ago, hearing masked vigilante Rorschach's gravelly narration taken word-for-word from the book, or seeing the action scenes painfully reconstructed shot-for-shot from the graphic novel's frames, enlightened my inner geek.

Watchmen opens with the brutal assassination of a vigilante named The Comedian, whose death sparks theories of a plot against masked heroes. This opening scene, coupled with one of the best title sequences in years (a three-minute montage of moments in the lives of the earliest superheroes, accompanied by Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'"), is arguably the highlight of the film. In just a brief, few minutes, the audience is thrown headlong into the history of this bizarre, alternate reality. It's moving, intriguing and beautifully shot and edited.

Snyder's film remains incredibly faithful to its source material, despite lopping a number of my favourite subplots and sequences in order to get the movie's runtime down to a still-pretty-meaty 161 minutes. Snyder plans to release a director's cut on DVD, containing an extra half hour of footage, which I suspect will benefit the film greatly. (Additionally, an animated film based on the brilliantly dark "Tales of the Black Freighter" story-within-a-story from the original comic is due to be released on DVD in the near future.)

Where Snyder does deviate from the graphic novel (as opposed to excising content due to time restrictions), it's often an improvement. In particular, the villain's ultimate plot, or rather the means by which he aims to achieve it (which I criticised yesterday), is altered here, becoming a tighter, tidier scheme with the same end result. It's difficult to elaborate without spoiling the film, but it's a marked improvement on what was, for me, one of the graphic novel's few flaws. Unfortunately, the absence of the sequences missing from this cut of Watchmen mean we don't fully grasp the scope of the final act's devastation; here's hoping this will be rectified with the director's cut of the film.

Watchmen's faithful transfer to the screen is also due in large part to its cast, which doesn't contain a single A-lister (a major plus). Rather, the film is populated by a very capable group of actors who could only individually be described as "that guy/girl from...". For the most part, all embody their roles with a perfect understanding of the original book's appeal: that Watchmen's characters were not "super" heroes, but rather a random patchwork of real people with real flaws. Standouts include Patrick Wilson (that guy from The Phantom of the Opera) as Daniel Dreiberg/Nite Owl, Jackie Earle Haley (that guy from Little Children) as Walter Kovaks/Rorschach and Jeffrey Dean Morgan (that guy from Grey's Anatomy) as Edward Blake/The Comedian. All of Watchmen's characters are mired in a kind of murkiness and ambiguity that more popular superheroes don't even come close to representing.

My only minor niggles with the cast were Matthew Goode (who's almost too young for the part of Adrien Veidt) and Billy Crudup (though that may have more to do with the difficulty of depicting a character who was vaporised in a radiation accident only to regenerate in the form of a bright blue super human who possesses a range of powers, few clothes and an oft-featured bright blue knob, because he is superb in his pre-accident flashbacks). The fact that Watchmen is one of the best-cast comic book adaptations ever is a major boon in light of the story's ensemble nature.

The cinematography, special effects and costumes are all terrific. Special praise goes to Watchmen's superb soundtrack, which features a fantastic assembly of songs, each beautifully fitting and unfitting for the scenes they accompany.

Yet as much as I found to enjoy in Snyder's adaptation, I can't help but appreciate Alan Moore's snobbery that Watchmen could only ever be pulled off within the confines of the comic book medium. The writer told Entertainment Weekly in 2008, "There are things that we did with Watchmen that could only work in a comic, and were indeed designed to show off things that other media can't." I'm inclined to agree.

Even though Snyder's take on Watchmen is probably as faithful as any adaptation could ever get, everything about the story, including its very context, functions so much better in the comic book medium that any transition to film was bound to live in the shadow of its source material. Many of the book's talky sequences, often dealing with heady existential subjects, are much more engaging on the printed page than on the screen. Moreover, the absence of any equivalent to Moore's engaging and articulate written extracts that close each chapter and contextualise much of the story are sorely missed. Meanwhile, the movie's excessive violence, though accurately translated from the book, at times seems like a bone tossed at fans of the so-called "torture porn" genre. In short, the film version failed to leave me with the same sense of awe at the saga unfolding before me as the graphic novel did.

Like its original format, Watchmen probably isn't destined to be crowd-pleasing fare. I suspect it may even divide fans of the graphic novel as much as it will moviegoers (I'm hoping the director's cut will amend most of my bugbears about this adaptation). It also lacks the psychological resonance that made the graphic novel such a landmark in its medium. Nevertheless, it remains a superior addition to the superhero genre, and one that will hopefully point filmgoers towards its phenomenal source material.

Watchmen (1986-1987)

Wednesday 4 March 2009, 9:00 pm | Comments (0)

WatchmenI don't read comics.

I don't know how to read comics. Do I look at the text first? The picture? How long do I spend looking at the artwork? Am I overanalysing it? Probably.

I don't really know the point of comics. The written word is amazing – the English language contains more words than any other. I find myself unable to accept that pictures, despite their apparent value of 1,000 words, are a valid substitute – or supplement – to such varied and vast tools for description as the written word. Am I being narrow-minded? Probably.

I don't read comics. And Watchmen, by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, is the exception that proves the rule.

Like most people outside hardcore comic fans, I had never heard of Watchmen prior to the upcoming film adaptation entering production. After hearing how acclaimed the book is, I examined a copy in a bookstore a few months back only to find myself sold by, of all things, the quotes on the back cover.

"A work of ruthless psychological realism, it's a landmark in the graphic novel medium" – one of Time Magazine's 100 Best English-Language Novels since 1923

"Watchmen is peerless." – Rolling Stone

"Remarkable... The would-be heroes of Watchmen have staggeringly complex psychological profiles." – New York Times Book Review

"Groundbreaking..." – USA Today

"A masterwork representing the apex of artistry." – Entertainment Weekly

Very convincing praise from a number of respectable sources, but it was actually this quote from Damon Lindelof, co-creator of possibly my favourite television series of all time, Lost, that sold me on Watchmen: "The greatest piece of popular fiction ever produced."

Lindelof's claim is a strong, but curious one; if Watchmen is so monumentally brilliant, why had I – and, I'm assuming, many others – never heard of it? Having reached its final page, I can safely say that Watchmen's very brilliance is precisely what makes it so inaccessible.

Watchmen is not an easy read. Firstly, it's bleak. Very bleak. Set in an alternate version of the 1980s, in which the Cold War is not thawing and the world is on the brink of unprecedented nuclear conflict, Watchmen is populated by jaded washed-up heroes, who were once inspired by comic book characters to dress up in costumes and fight crime. Briefly famous, the heroes were forced to give up their alter-egos when an act was passed outlawing vigilante activity. Some obliged and hung up their costumes, while others – such as Rorschach, the masked hero whose grim, noir-esque opening narration perfectly sets Watchmen's tone – refused to quit.

Watchmen, originally published as 12 separate editions, possesses a rich, layered narrative. Like Lost, which has clearly sought inspiration from this graphic novel, Watchmen demands a high level of attention to fully appreciate its array of pop culture references, profound musings and parallel storylines. One standout is the story-within-a-story, an instalment from the fictional comic series "Tales of the Black Freighter" called "Marooned", a mirthless tale about a man who becomes shipwrecked on an island, but remains determined to return to his hometown to warn of the impending arrival of the title vessel. It's a captivating story in its own right, but it's also a great parallel to certain parts of Watchmen's story.

I've deliberately not mentioned much of the plot as I found my enjoyment of Watchmen was greatly enhanced by the fact I knew next to nothing about it. Needless to say, it's not your typical superhero story, nor, I imagine, your typical comic book. I'm not quite sold on the ending, thought-provoking as it was, but I may grow to accept it in time. Nevertheless, Watchmen remains a bleak, bloody and utterly brilliant story, rich in subtext and subversion.

But how did I reconcile Watchmen's greatness with my inability to appreciate comics? Quite simply, Watchmen's post-modern genre-bending would not have worked in any other literary format. I'm keen to see whether director Zack Snyder, who appears to have faithfully adapted Watchmen, plays on the conventions of comic book films as much as Watchmen plays on the conventions of comic books themselves.

With The Dark Knight's billion-dollar success proving that Joe Public can handle a comic book film with depth, I'm looking forward to seeing how well Watchmen translates to the big screen, and how well moviegoers will accept it. I was fortunate enough to score tickets to an exclusive midnight screening of Watchmen starting in just a few hours, so expect my thoughts on the adaptation tomorrow.

Slumdog Millionaire (2008)

Sunday 1 March 2009, 11:10 pm | Comments (1)

Slumdog MillionaireSlumdog Millionaire owned last week's Oscars, taking home eight out of a possible 10 statues, including the two big ones: Best Picture and Best Director. The $64,000 – or 1,250,000 rupee – question: is Slumdog Millionaire deserving of such recognition?

My final answer is a resounding yes.

British director Danny Boyle's acclaimed adaptation of Vikas Swarup's novel Q&A recounts the story of Jamal Malik (played at various points in time by Ayush Mahesh Khedekar, Tanay Chheda and Dev Patel), a boy from the Mumbai slums who triumphs on India's version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?. However, when Jamal is arrested, interrogated and tortured on suspicion of cheating, he reveals his life story, which suggests that destiny may have had a hand in his big win.

Slumdog Millionaire's peculiar conceit – film based around a game show that was surely at its most popular nearly a decade ago (Q&A featured a fictional game show) – sounds kitschy at best and downright cheesy at worst; in short, not Oscar material. But the quiz show premise makes the movie's flashback sequences surprisingly fluid, allowing the film to wonderfully explore one man's rise from India's slums and his unrelenting pursuit to be with the woman he loves.

The first thing that struck me after leaving the cinema was Slumdog Millionaire's tremendous vibrancy. The writing, direction, acting, cinematography, editing and music are all pulsing with an energy I haven't seen in a film in years; the film looks and feels completely unique. Compared to the rest of this year's Oscar contenders, including the terrific The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, it's easy to see why Slumdog Millionaire sticks out.

Its cast of unknowns adds to Slumdog Millionaire's charms. While the cast noticeably failed to be acknowledged at the Academy Awards, all capably handle all that their roles require of them. That many of the younger actors – all of whom are superb – actually come from Mumbai's slums (Slumdog Millionaire was entirely shot in India) is another feather in the film's cap. In particular, Bollywood star Anil Kapoor is a standout as the slimy host of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?.

I've seen posters around Sydney proclaiming Slumdog Millionaire to be "the feel-good film of the decade", which, given its predominant themes of empowerment and redemption, might be a fair assumption. Yet Boyle is unafraid to pull emotional punches when the script demands it. The movie's early scenes, set in Mumbai's slums, are simultaneously colourful and upsetting. Slumdog Millionaire's most harrowing sequence – a genuinely sickening moment in which a gangster blinds a small child in order to increase his begging potential – is deftly handled as the culmination of a segment of the film in which the audience, like the children the scene concerns, are oblivious to the gangster's true intents. By contrast, Boyle gives just the right amount – and type – of levity to elsewhere balance the film's tone.

In fact, watching Slumdog Millionaire, I found myself reminded of precisely why I love going to the cinema. If only all films offered this much. The film's outcome is rarely in doubt, but Simon Beaufoy's script is so engrossing that it's perfectly acceptable to question the outcomes of the lesser aspects of the story (particularly during its vignette-esque flashbacks). Slumdog Millionaire offers a quality of romance, suspense and thrills rare in modern cinema.

It's not quite perfect. Slumdog Millionaire might be a touch too sentimental, particularly during its final act, in which the entire nation becomes enthralled by Jamal's potential win; the story has enough momentum without resorting to such clichés as people huddling around televisions in shop windows. Additionally, the Bollywood-style dance number that's intercut with the film's closing credits is at odds with the rest of the picture's Hollywood sensibilities. I also didn't quite buy a key moment in Jamal's relationship with his brother, which may have warranted further exploration.

Any flaws are easily overlooked: Slumdog Millionaire is a real winner.

 

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