Am I the Only One Who Thinks

Am I the only one who thinks Slumdog Millionaire was on the soppy side?

I don’t mean to be a killjoy. I would love to read the original novel, Vikas Swarup’s Q&A. But wasn’t there a moment when you sooner or later connected that every single question asked on the Indian version of the “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” game show was going to lead directly into yet one more painful chapter in our protagonist’s impoverished childhood? Didn’t it make you squirm in anticipation and dread? Did it have to be that heavy, all the time?

On the other hand, it’s a gripping film, with beautiful cinematography, a powerful message of survival and hope, and, most importantly, an artistic and inspired dance sequence at the end. So go see it, just for that.

But it’s just not going to be my favorite film of the year. My favorite film of the year award is going to go to Team America: World Police. It didn’t even come out this year — I only saw it on DVD — but I appreciated the film’s patriotic theme of world dominance. The musical score is unforgettable. Take the lyrics of the theme song, just for example:

America, F— YEAH!
Coming again, to save the mother f—ing day yeah!

I’d post the rest of the lyrics, but poetic lyrics of this quality are better when discovered in the original format. But I will tell you this. It is basically about a team of American Patriots, better known as Team America, World Police, who save the world from this evil terrorist dude, who eventually morphs into a cockroach, but again, you simply must discover this on your own time.

But what makes this film so special, and so endearing to me, is that the actors are not real people, nor are they animated creatures or even claymation, or anything you might expect from a film of this caliber, but string marionettes.

The porn scene near the end will keep you awake at night. I actually had to press pause for a few minutes to get a glass of water and collect myself.

Well, thus concludes my film reviews for the moment.

And, for anyone who’s paid attention, I’ve trimmed my finger nails. I was hoping to last through New Year’s, but last night, in the wee hours of the morning, I broke down and clipped them all off. Oh, hallelujah. I can type without this wretched speech impediment. I have found myself again.

Well, maybe you can’t tell a difference, but I can.


About katiekelly

I grew up in a parking lot.
This entry was posted in Art, Reviews. Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Am I the Only One Who Thinks

  1. Kelly says:

    shh, shhh. i’m going to see it this weekend, then i’ll will speak the truth

  2. Sally Vox says:

    Eh sure its a bit heavy handed, but its a fairytale

  3. Kelly says:

    slumdog, ok saw it last night.

    i liked it. of course you get where its going and its super heavy-handed, but you know, thats kinda the point. but i did make the mistake of going to see it at the rafael. nice theater, nuttiest liberal-white-guilt audience. on the way out:

    woman: what was the moral of the story? that indians aren’t poor anymore
    man: no, i think they’re still quite impoverished.

    • katiekelly says:

      Kelly, your observations about the Rafael Theater capture perfectly my sentiments. I saw this film the day after the bombing in Mumbai, so as you might imagine, it was a full house of guilty white people. I am certain that this tainted my perception.

  4. Personally, I’m a romantic. When I go see a film, it isn’t about being depressed or moved how shitty people treat one another. It is my time to put my blinders on. It is kind of like TV. Everyone seems to have a great job, and have plenty of what they need so they can get on with the important things in life like, Lust, Sloth, Greed, and all those great crimes that are not associated with any feelings of regret or responsibility.

  5. Indi Young says:

    I can’t *stand* long nails, either. I have to clip them off as soon as I start feeling their presence, which means anything over 1/10″ of white at the tips. I don’t know how you managed to last this long!

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