Is it written?: Slumdog Millionaire vs. Azur & Asmar
When two movies are watched at random and then reviewed in tandem, one might expect some awkward, disparate sutures. But this time, without apparent design, I watched two rather similar movies back to back: Slumdog Millionaire and Azur & Asmar.
Slumdog (which just won the Oscars’ Best Picture, so it should be everywhere) is a high-octane, faux-Bollywood modern fairy tale about a young ghetto lad named Jamal, who must explain his uncanny accuracy on a game show, or face imprisonment and/or an unpleasant end. Azur & Asmar, which opened on approximately 3.5 screens last week, is another Eastern fairy tale, but where Slumdog runs, Azur walks at a stately pace. The movie follows two young men determined to find and free the beautiful, possibly nonexistent princess they both fell in love with as children. But to do so, they must endure a number of trials and discover hidden keys. If you’re thinking this plot sounds exactly like Slumdog Millionaire, you’re right. But for the wrong reason.
The plotlines are so similar because both stories are leaning heavily on classic fairytale mythology. Like, Aarne-Thompson classic. Got a hero? Check. Got a quest? Check. Got an imprisoned princess? Check. That’s all to be expected. However, apart from the basic fairy tale structure, both movies also have a few other similarities, which are interesting to over-analyze.
First up: the idolized mother. Both movies have a mother figure who is held up as an ennobling ideal. Azur’s mother figure is present in the lives of the protagonists – she is in fact integral to the story, since she not only related the bedtime stories of the djinn fairy that spark the quests, but she also actively assists both sons on the quest. In Slumdog, the mother is more evident by her absence. Indeed, the overall story structure leaves us with the impression that her maternal sacrifice was required to provide Jamal with one of the necessary answers during the game show (never mind that there were a hundred ways for an Indian boy to have been exposed to that particular bit of information, regardless of the fact that he’s Muslim).
Second: Both movies embrace the fairy tale structure. Azur is a fairytale in the traditional sense. This may be because the movie was produced by a pan-euro group (including Spain, Italy, Belgium, and France), and so has the fairy tale genre down pat. The explicitly modern bits of the story are evident in the deliberate discussion of racial differences (European versus North African/Arabic) and the equally deliberate refutation of racism by the major characters. Slumdog also plays at the “fairy tale” story, in the sense that Westerners understand “fairy tale” as a synonym for the Cinderella/rags-to-riches plotline. Much of the plot and characterization also comes from Bollywood convention, in which the rags-to-riches, aggressively happy ending is de rigeur. As well, Slumdog’s fairy tale aspects occasionally seem like a loophole for the filmmakers to slip through when criticism arises. “Oh, never mind the caricatured depiction of Indian ghetto life. It’s a fairy tale.”
Third: Both films discuss the East/West cultural divide. In Azur, the two protagonists are racially distinct. Azur is blond, blue-eyed and Euro-centric (and rich). Asmar is dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and poor. Like his mother, he is obviously an outsider in the world both young boys inhabit, and this makes it easy for Azur’s father to ignore them when he chooses to. In the later half of the story, the action moves to the East, to Asmar’s homeland, and Azur becomes the foreigner. The parallels to modern immigration and EU issues are obvious. Slumdog also works on the East-West dichotomy. The young Jamal learns how to negotiate the Indian slums, but also the Western call center where he works (and which provides him the in to get on the game show, which is itself the key to his destiny). Like Azur and Asmar, the Jamal not only knows about two differing cultures, he must operate successfully in the foreign culture in order to reach his destiny.
Fourth: Both stories hinge of the idea of destiny. In the words of Slumdog Millionaire: “It is written”. The problem with destiny, from a storytelling perspective, is that it can encourage laziness on the part of the creator. If the ending “is written,” then the creator of that story has an out, an escape clause in case things get sticky. But the larger issue with announcing that destiny has just been fulfilled is that it detracts from the real trials that the characters endure. Does the quest really mean all that much if the hero was going to make it anyway? What’s the point of making a choice if the hero is destined to choose correctly no matter what? In film, the audience should identify with the characters, and they should be rooting for the characters. If we know the final score, why watch the game?
The answer is that sometimes the game is worth watching. Filmmakers get us to watch the same story over and over again because it looks good on screen. It is worth noting that Azur & Asmar is visually exquisite. The word “storybook” is getting used in other reviews of this movie, and rightly so. Unlike many recent animated films, Azur does not strive to mimic live action. Instead, it uses flat, bold swathes of color and stylized shapes to convey the sense of otherness which is vital to a successful fairy tale. Whether you are annoyed by the story’s weaknesses (and they are there), you can’t help but be mesmerized by the animation style, which is a mixture of paper cutouts and sparing CGI details. The difference in texture between these two styles is the visual equivalent of a little voice urging you to pay attention. Also astounding are the many nods to traditional Islamic art: beautiful patterned tiles and repeating motifs that, again, convey a sense of the exotic without beating you over the head.
Slumdog has some interesting visual aspects as well, mostly due to snappy handheld camera work and a color saturated screen. But that’s that kind of look that really only works in the moment. In terms of a lasting impression, Azur blows Slumdog out of the water. I can’t recall any specific images from Slumdog, other then perhaps the game show set (which is probably partly due to the fact that everyone knows what the set of Who Wants to be a Millionaire? looks like. It’s entered our cultural milieu.) But I can close my eyes and still see just what Azur’s mother looks like when he lays eyes on her after a decade-long separation. She resembles a Klimt portrait by way of Baghdad, both maternal and alien, and the effect is wholly dazzling.
Slumdog Millionaire is a good movie. Was it really the best picture of 2008? No, but you won’t suffer by watching it. Azur & Asmar will be harder to find, but I encourage you to seek it out. It is also not the best picture of the year. But it is the most beautiful.
Slumdog (which just won the Oscars’ Best Picture, so it should be everywhere) is a high-octane, faux-Bollywood modern fairy tale about a young ghetto lad named Jamal, who must explain his uncanny accuracy on a game show, or face imprisonment and/or an unpleasant end. Azur & Asmar, which opened on approximately 3.5 screens last week, is another Eastern fairy tale, but where Slumdog runs, Azur walks at a stately pace. The movie follows two young men determined to find and free the beautiful, possibly nonexistent princess they both fell in love with as children. But to do so, they must endure a number of trials and discover hidden keys. If you’re thinking this plot sounds exactly like Slumdog Millionaire, you’re right. But for the wrong reason.
The plotlines are so similar because both stories are leaning heavily on classic fairytale mythology. Like, Aarne-Thompson classic. Got a hero? Check. Got a quest? Check. Got an imprisoned princess? Check. That’s all to be expected. However, apart from the basic fairy tale structure, both movies also have a few other similarities, which are interesting to over-analyze.
First up: the idolized mother. Both movies have a mother figure who is held up as an ennobling ideal. Azur’s mother figure is present in the lives of the protagonists – she is in fact integral to the story, since she not only related the bedtime stories of the djinn fairy that spark the quests, but she also actively assists both sons on the quest. In Slumdog, the mother is more evident by her absence. Indeed, the overall story structure leaves us with the impression that her maternal sacrifice was required to provide Jamal with one of the necessary answers during the game show (never mind that there were a hundred ways for an Indian boy to have been exposed to that particular bit of information, regardless of the fact that he’s Muslim).
Second: Both movies embrace the fairy tale structure. Azur is a fairytale in the traditional sense. This may be because the movie was produced by a pan-euro group (including Spain, Italy, Belgium, and France), and so has the fairy tale genre down pat. The explicitly modern bits of the story are evident in the deliberate discussion of racial differences (European versus North African/Arabic) and the equally deliberate refutation of racism by the major characters. Slumdog also plays at the “fairy tale” story, in the sense that Westerners understand “fairy tale” as a synonym for the Cinderella/rags-to-riches plotline. Much of the plot and characterization also comes from Bollywood convention, in which the rags-to-riches, aggressively happy ending is de rigeur. As well, Slumdog’s fairy tale aspects occasionally seem like a loophole for the filmmakers to slip through when criticism arises. “Oh, never mind the caricatured depiction of Indian ghetto life. It’s a fairy tale.”
Third: Both films discuss the East/West cultural divide. In Azur, the two protagonists are racially distinct. Azur is blond, blue-eyed and Euro-centric (and rich). Asmar is dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and poor. Like his mother, he is obviously an outsider in the world both young boys inhabit, and this makes it easy for Azur’s father to ignore them when he chooses to. In the later half of the story, the action moves to the East, to Asmar’s homeland, and Azur becomes the foreigner. The parallels to modern immigration and EU issues are obvious. Slumdog also works on the East-West dichotomy. The young Jamal learns how to negotiate the Indian slums, but also the Western call center where he works (and which provides him the in to get on the game show, which is itself the key to his destiny). Like Azur and Asmar, the Jamal not only knows about two differing cultures, he must operate successfully in the foreign culture in order to reach his destiny.
Fourth: Both stories hinge of the idea of destiny. In the words of Slumdog Millionaire: “It is written”. The problem with destiny, from a storytelling perspective, is that it can encourage laziness on the part of the creator. If the ending “is written,” then the creator of that story has an out, an escape clause in case things get sticky. But the larger issue with announcing that destiny has just been fulfilled is that it detracts from the real trials that the characters endure. Does the quest really mean all that much if the hero was going to make it anyway? What’s the point of making a choice if the hero is destined to choose correctly no matter what? In film, the audience should identify with the characters, and they should be rooting for the characters. If we know the final score, why watch the game?
The answer is that sometimes the game is worth watching. Filmmakers get us to watch the same story over and over again because it looks good on screen. It is worth noting that Azur & Asmar is visually exquisite. The word “storybook” is getting used in other reviews of this movie, and rightly so. Unlike many recent animated films, Azur does not strive to mimic live action. Instead, it uses flat, bold swathes of color and stylized shapes to convey the sense of otherness which is vital to a successful fairy tale. Whether you are annoyed by the story’s weaknesses (and they are there), you can’t help but be mesmerized by the animation style, which is a mixture of paper cutouts and sparing CGI details. The difference in texture between these two styles is the visual equivalent of a little voice urging you to pay attention. Also astounding are the many nods to traditional Islamic art: beautiful patterned tiles and repeating motifs that, again, convey a sense of the exotic without beating you over the head.
Slumdog has some interesting visual aspects as well, mostly due to snappy handheld camera work and a color saturated screen. But that’s that kind of look that really only works in the moment. In terms of a lasting impression, Azur blows Slumdog out of the water. I can’t recall any specific images from Slumdog, other then perhaps the game show set (which is probably partly due to the fact that everyone knows what the set of Who Wants to be a Millionaire? looks like. It’s entered our cultural milieu.) But I can close my eyes and still see just what Azur’s mother looks like when he lays eyes on her after a decade-long separation. She resembles a Klimt portrait by way of Baghdad, both maternal and alien, and the effect is wholly dazzling.
Slumdog Millionaire is a good movie. Was it really the best picture of 2008? No, but you won’t suffer by watching it. Azur & Asmar will be harder to find, but I encourage you to seek it out. It is also not the best picture of the year. But it is the most beautiful.