Slumdog comprador: coming to terms with the Slumdog phenomenon

CineAction, Winter, 2009 by Ajay Gehlawat

Every time a film made by a Western director about India gains critical acclaim in the West, two related phenomena seem to also occur: the greatest hits of negative stereotypes are brought out and served up in the film (think poverty, squalor and general backwardness), even as the 'usual suspects' emerge to tout its merits. I am referring, of course, to the comprador class of critics, those native-born, self-styled authorities who are summoned to validate the authenticity of the work at hand--and to defend it against the potential critiques of their brethren. With this year's Oscar winner, Slumdog Millionaire (2008), one witnesses the reemergence of both phenomena. In such instances a third phenomenon also frequently occurs, namely, the referencing of the last instance of such a cinematic 'milestone'--in this case, Richard Attenborough's Gandhi (1982)--as a marker of how far "we" (as a Western/ global culture) have come. (1) Hamid Dabashi has noted the recurrence of the comprador phenomenon in recent times:

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Given the transnational disposition of the globalised empire, a crucial function of its ideological foregrounding is predicated on the role that expatriate intellectuals can play. [...] In the immediate aftermath of 9/11, comprador native intellectuals were actively recruited to perform a critical function for the militant ideologues of the US Empire. Their task is to feign authority, authenticity, and native knowledge and thus to inform the US public of the atrocities that are taking place throughout the world, in the region of their native birth in particular, by way of justifying the imperial designs of the US as liberating these nations from the evil of their own designs. (2)

While proponents of Slumdog may argue that, at most (i.e., at worst), the film is 'harmless fun' or 'just entertaining' or 'only, after all, a film', it is precisely such a veneer of innocuousness that Slumdog's proponents summon to defend it from subsequent criticism. The film's director, Danny Boyle, has also expressed this sentiment, noting in an interview with Fareed Zakaria, that "It's an entertainment, in the end. It's not a documentary." (3) The best-case scenario, as framed by Slumdog's fans, is even more problematic, namely, arguing that the film actually engages with serious issues (the slums, poverty, corruption), raising awareness and, in the process, functioning as more than 'merely' a work of art. Anand Giridharadas, for instance, claims that Slumdog "shows a much more realistic version of life in India than films traditionally have." (4) Even better for proponents (to have the best of both worlds) would be to see Slumdog as simultaneously being a fun, entertaining film that addresses serious issues. Dennis Lim notes this tendency to have its cake and eat it, too, calling Slumdog "a slippery and self-conscious concoction" that "has it both ways. It makes a show of being anchored in a real-world social context, then asks to be read as a fantasy." (5) This would arguably provide the Western fan with the greatest satisfaction, leaving intact his/her complacency about patronizing such films. Furthermore (to come full circle), having witnessed the 'global' success of the film, Western fans can reaffirm their belief in the West's unique ability to produce such successes.

Another phenomenon linked to this last sentiment can also be traced to the emergence of Slumdog, namely, the misconception in the West of what constitutes a 'Bollywood' film, as well as the subsequent reappropriation of this latter moniker (itself appropriating the system which now attempts to 'steal it back'). Thus Slumdog is heralded as both "the new Bollywood" and "turn[ing] Bollywood on its head." (6) It is precisely in the summoning of this term--ironically now used as a marker of authenticity--that the compradors come in, for who better to speak on Bollywood than Indians? (7) These compradors can even be relied upon to go one step further and argue that, even as Slumdog is just as entertaining as a Bollywood film and, in many ways, resembles one, it goes further than any Bollywood film has, or can, in addressing the 'social ills' of India. (8) Here we begin to see the emergence of the first of several contradictions: on the one hand, it is the style of the Bollywood film that prevents it from such (serious, social) engagement; on the other hand, it is precisely such a style that Slumdog emulates in engaging with such issues. It is precisely such a contradiction which makes possible the reemergence of what Dabashi describes in reference to the United States' response to 9/11 (the so-called 'global' war on terror) or, indeed, what the recent Oscar Awards ceremony provided, namely, the image of the benevolent white man surrounded by grateful brown children, being honored for his noble effort. (9)

There seem to be at least three invocations at work in the case of Slumdog, then: 1. that of the "slum" (read: 'real India') and, thus (as a byproduct of this), the 'good intentions' of the Western filmmaker--in this case, Danny Boyle; 2. that of Bollywood (read: 'real Indian cinema'); and thus, building upon these two; 3. that of the film's 'authenticity' (read: a film about 'real India' made in a 'real Indian' way). In order to better understand how Slumdog circulates within such a Western discourse, it is necessary to first examine the underlying premises of these three invocations, as well as their interrelations, in some detail.