Slumdog Millionaire

An impoverished Indian youth spends his traumatic life in pursuit of a girl, culminating in his appearance on the Hindi version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?”

Slumdog Millionaire has a lot in common with director Danny Boyle’s breakout film, Trainspotting. Both open with chase sequences set to a thumping beat, both focus on youths trying to escape their environments and circumstances, both feature humorous, gag-inducing sequences involving shit, and both culminate with their protagonist acquiring a large amount of money and a chance at a better life.

That said, thematically, Slumdog Millionaire is farther from Trainspotting than Edinburgh is from Mumbai. Where Trainspotting was a dark, black comedy neo-noir, Slumdog Millionaire is a whimsical fairy tale.

Fortunately, Boyle’s relentless energy and kinetic style do a good job of glossing over that fact, making the film feel much more substantial than it really is. But the good performances, brilliant editing, and pulsating soundtrack can’t cover up the film’s crucial failure.

The story revolves around Jamal and his love for Latika, a girl he meets when he’s just a boy. Before he can reach adolescence, they’re separated, and he spends the rest of his life searching for her, only to lose her yet again after one night once he does find her. From that point on, his whole life revolves around this girl, who he feel’s he’s meant to be with, but we, the audience, can’t understand why. She may have charmed Jamal, but she never charms us. In fact, we never find out anything about her, and so she remains just a pretty face.

And thus, we reach the film’s biggest conceit. That Latika is still the girl Jamal remembers from his youth. That they’re meant to be together despite knowing practically nothing about each other. That it’s not only okay, but even profitable, to live your life solely in pursuit of a single woman you don’t know.

If you buy into this, you’ll go for Slumdog Millionaire in a big way. The flash, the energy, and the feel-good nature are there in full force, capped off by a memorable closing-credits sequence. But if the conceit’s too great, then you’ll see it as a well-done fairy tale and nothing more.