03-02-2009, 10:48 PM
Packaging poverty
Anuradha Dutt
India continues to be seen through Western eyes
The boundless euphoria of English-speaking urban Indians over the eight Oscars awarded to Slumdog Millionaire and one to Smile Pinki, both based on Indiaâs deprived, is a pointer to the embarrassing fact that over six decades after shaking off colonial rule, our frame of reference still remains the West.
There is a similar eruption of joy on the part of the media and intelligentsia whenever an Indo-Anglian writer wins the Man Booker or some other literary prize, instituted by Britain, the US or Europe. Proclamations of âWe are as good as themâ resound on television channels, newsrooms, academic circles and at seminars. The same degree of hysteria was triggered in the recent past by the crowning of Indian girls at international beauty pageants, sponsored by Western cosmetics firms and allied companies, eager to find a huge market here. These very companies now look for beauties and a customer base in other Third World countries.
The films that have made headlines have three things in common: One, they owe their success to the âvisionâ of Western directors looking at us through the prism of their sensibilities; two, they portray the ills of sub-continental poverty and redemption, a hackneyed theme that was earlier beaten to death in Salaam Bombay and City of Joy, with Kolkata providing the setting for collective Hollywood catharsis; and, three, they serve to reinforce stereotypes about India being wretched and backward.
That there is a huge upwardly mobile middle and lower middle class, outnumbering Americans, and a brave new world of entrepreneurs, inventers and saviours co-existing with this reality, and still another realm of greatness, comprising an enduring heritage and spiritual masters and savants, is cunningly ignored. India is too vast and diverse to be summed up by an entertaining potboiler about a poor boyâs miraculous rise to riches and fame via the Who Wants to be a Millionaire formula of British television, or the correction of a village girlâs cleft lip through the intercession of an NGO, funded no doubt, by some foreign agency.
The question that arises is why those involved with making these films could not have chosen less hackneyed subjects which sell poverty, if they were serious about taking India to the West, and, in particular, Hollywood. As the West slides into economic recession, with banks and mammoth companies going bust and workers being laid off even as the unemployed lose the roof over their head because of their inability to pay back home loans, poor Indians are not the only ones facing the spectre of destitution.
In fact, they are finding new economic opportunities as mobile phones reach remote areas, and development spreads into the backwaters. A film could as well have been made on how increased communication and mobility via mobile phones and enhanced public transport has empowered vast numbers of poor people. But that would go against the grain.
Viewed with dispassion, the hysteria over the Oscars jamboree seems to be an exaggerated marketing ploy to ensure a sizeable audience for movies, emanating from Hollywood and other Western film-making centres. For, the bottomline is success and money. Even if 10 percent of a population of over a billion pours into cinema halls to see such films, their makers can go all the way laughing to the bank. They did so when they made Gandhi, a homage to the Mahatma, and Freedom at Midnight.
Sadly, both these films viewed the freedom struggle from a colonial standpoint, which single-mindedly focussed on Gandhiâs role and that of Jawaharlal Nehru, anointed by him to lead free India. Other stalwarts, such as Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose and those who willingly laid down their lives rather than have any truck with the British, were ignored. It is Indian directors who have made films about Netaji, Bhagat Singh and other martyrs.
There is clearly a great difference in perception of Indian filmmakers and their Anglo-Saxon counterparts. In the meantime, reports are pouring in that Slumdog Millionaire is doing robust business at the box office ever since the hype surrounding the run-up to the awards ceremony and its aftermath. Ticket sales picked up sharply after the film swept the Oscars.
Anuradha Dutt
India continues to be seen through Western eyes
The boundless euphoria of English-speaking urban Indians over the eight Oscars awarded to Slumdog Millionaire and one to Smile Pinki, both based on Indiaâs deprived, is a pointer to the embarrassing fact that over six decades after shaking off colonial rule, our frame of reference still remains the West.
There is a similar eruption of joy on the part of the media and intelligentsia whenever an Indo-Anglian writer wins the Man Booker or some other literary prize, instituted by Britain, the US or Europe. Proclamations of âWe are as good as themâ resound on television channels, newsrooms, academic circles and at seminars. The same degree of hysteria was triggered in the recent past by the crowning of Indian girls at international beauty pageants, sponsored by Western cosmetics firms and allied companies, eager to find a huge market here. These very companies now look for beauties and a customer base in other Third World countries.
The films that have made headlines have three things in common: One, they owe their success to the âvisionâ of Western directors looking at us through the prism of their sensibilities; two, they portray the ills of sub-continental poverty and redemption, a hackneyed theme that was earlier beaten to death in Salaam Bombay and City of Joy, with Kolkata providing the setting for collective Hollywood catharsis; and, three, they serve to reinforce stereotypes about India being wretched and backward.
That there is a huge upwardly mobile middle and lower middle class, outnumbering Americans, and a brave new world of entrepreneurs, inventers and saviours co-existing with this reality, and still another realm of greatness, comprising an enduring heritage and spiritual masters and savants, is cunningly ignored. India is too vast and diverse to be summed up by an entertaining potboiler about a poor boyâs miraculous rise to riches and fame via the Who Wants to be a Millionaire formula of British television, or the correction of a village girlâs cleft lip through the intercession of an NGO, funded no doubt, by some foreign agency.
The question that arises is why those involved with making these films could not have chosen less hackneyed subjects which sell poverty, if they were serious about taking India to the West, and, in particular, Hollywood. As the West slides into economic recession, with banks and mammoth companies going bust and workers being laid off even as the unemployed lose the roof over their head because of their inability to pay back home loans, poor Indians are not the only ones facing the spectre of destitution.
In fact, they are finding new economic opportunities as mobile phones reach remote areas, and development spreads into the backwaters. A film could as well have been made on how increased communication and mobility via mobile phones and enhanced public transport has empowered vast numbers of poor people. But that would go against the grain.
Viewed with dispassion, the hysteria over the Oscars jamboree seems to be an exaggerated marketing ploy to ensure a sizeable audience for movies, emanating from Hollywood and other Western film-making centres. For, the bottomline is success and money. Even if 10 percent of a population of over a billion pours into cinema halls to see such films, their makers can go all the way laughing to the bank. They did so when they made Gandhi, a homage to the Mahatma, and Freedom at Midnight.
Sadly, both these films viewed the freedom struggle from a colonial standpoint, which single-mindedly focussed on Gandhiâs role and that of Jawaharlal Nehru, anointed by him to lead free India. Other stalwarts, such as Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose and those who willingly laid down their lives rather than have any truck with the British, were ignored. It is Indian directors who have made films about Netaji, Bhagat Singh and other martyrs.
There is clearly a great difference in perception of Indian filmmakers and their Anglo-Saxon counterparts. In the meantime, reports are pouring in that Slumdog Millionaire is doing robust business at the box office ever since the hype surrounding the run-up to the awards ceremony and its aftermath. Ticket sales picked up sharply after the film swept the Oscars.