There are times when the members of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences attempt to show that they are not just a bunch of sticks-in-the-mud by honoring films which are believed to appeal only to a niche market, but are nevertheless “significant.” That has not typically been the case in the best picture category, but two recent films bucked the usual trend of American/European-based stories winning the top award. One of these films did fit into the mold of typical Hollywood melodrama, but in a slightly different milieu, while the other film I don’t know what the Academy was thinking—or the critics everywhere, for that matter.
The 2009 Oscar for Best Picture went to a British film set in India and starring Indian actors, Slumdog Millionaire. It won an amazing 8 Oscars in total, including a much deserved one for cinematography. Its British director, Danny Boyle, gave the film a comfortably “western” feel, with most of the dialogue in English, with a smattering of Hindi in the early scenes involving the characters as children. The film proceeds in a present/past format, as Jamal Malik (Dev Patel)—an uneducated but otherwise bright Muslim teenager born in poverty in Mumbai—is participating in a game show called Who Wants to be a Millionaire, in which he can win 20 million rupees (about $270,000) if he can answer all the questions right; many of the questions are actually quite easy, although presumably not for ill-educated slum dwellers.
The film begins with the Jamal being escorted to the glitzy stage by game show host Prem Kumar (Anil Kapoor); Jamal is clearly perplexed by this world, but he is told not to be frightened, but to just smile because everything will be “alright”—or not:
The film then cuts to a police interrogation room, where Jamal is being grilled about how he can “guess” all the answers without having an accomplice helping him:
There are a few more intercuts from scenes of the game show, and the interrogation room where Jamal is now being subjected to torture, such as being strung-up and given the "shock treatment":
Since Jamal won’t confess to cheating, his interrogators are forced to resort to questioning him about how he could possibly know the answers, and we learn how out of complete chance Jamal has been able to make at least “educated guesses” about what they were during various life experiences. It’s all very fanciful and highly unlikely, but this is a “feel good” movie in which we are led to cheer for the underdog, and we allow ourselves to overlook the continuous parade of coincidences. Yet to its credit, the film’s early scenes involving Jamal and his brother Salim as young children living on their own in the slums after their mother was killed shows the grim reality of poverty in India:
One wonders how anyone can actually “live” in such conditions. But somehow people do—and learn, in a fashion. For example, Jamal remembers his teacher beating him with a copy of the book The Three Musketeers as a child after coming in late with his brother Salim; he remembers that two of the musketeers are named “Athos” and “Porthos,” and he and his brother refer to themselves as the “two musketeers.” These and other incidents just happen to “stick” in his memory.
As noted, not all of the answers are “hard,” just a matter of common sense, which kind of dulls the “suspense.” For example one early question is about what is written underneath the three lions on the Indian national emblem; you would think that most Indians know the answer (of course many Americans have no clue what this country’s official “motto” is—E Pluribus Unum), but even if you are not Indian, the only answer that made any sense out of the four provided is “The Truth Alone Triumphs.” Yet the filmmakers felt they needed to concoct “suspense” by having the viewer believe that Jamal, who now works at a call center and seems computer literate, to be so educationally-stunted that he must ask the audience for the answer. The interrogator tells Jamal that his five-year-old could answer that question, but Jamal turns the table on him by telling him something he doesn’t know, the person who stole a local constable’s bicycle—which even a five-year-old in his neighborhood knows.
Another question about what the Hindu god Rama is holding in his right hand brings bitter memories of an attack by a Hindu mob in which his mother is killed. On the run with Salim, he encounters what appears to be a statue of a Hindu figure holding a bow and arrow; again, not something he “learned” from a book, but just something he happened to have experienced in his life.
The film goes on and on like this. The interrogators stop torturing him and seem to take a more empathetic interest in how he managed to “know” the answers, and finally believing his stories they release him and allow him to return to the show to answer the big one for all the marbles. In the meantime, the subplot includes meeting another slum child, a girl named Latika, who Jamal develops a crush on. After Jamal and Salim escape a crime gang that wants to “employ” them as in the children in Oliver Twist, they make a living doing odd jobs before happening upon Latika working as a prostitute for the gang. Salim decides to work for the gang and make some money, while Jamal finds work at the call center. Doing some searching on a computer, he discovers where Salim and Latika are living.
After failing to convince Salim to quit the business or let Latika go, Jamal decides to go on the game show because he knows Latika watches it. Salim decides to make amends for the bad decisions he has made in life and lets Latika go with his car and cellphone, knowing that when this is found out by the gang leader he will be killed. Jamal calls Salim’s number for help with the final question, and Latika answers it, telling him that she is free. She doesn’t know the answer to the question, but it doesn’t matter if Jamal is rich or poor. As we see, the answer to the question is easy for anyone familiar with The Three Musketeers story:
Of course in the end, Jamal guesses right, and he gets the money…
…and the girl.
Slumdog Millionaire can’t be said to be the “surprise” winner for Best Picture; it certainly helped that it was largely an English-language production with a Western “sensibility,” and that the “competition” didn't offer much. On the other hand, the early action scenes set in the slums are exceptionally well-done and eye-opening, and the film kept to the tried and true Hollywood orthodoxy of giving the audience a character to root for as an underdog who beats the odds and wins out in the end—and Oscar voters tend to like such films.
“Orthodox” is not a word one would use in regard to the South Korean film Parasite, which won the 2020 Best Picture award, and it won plaudits all over the world. One wonders whether this film gained such widespread critical approval because a film with such an odd sense of social “messaging” came as “unexpected” coming out of a country like South Korea, which isn’t particularly high on anyone’s film radar, save for pirated DVD releases.
Apparently Parasite’s “social message” impressed critics, but I’m not so sure the “social message” works quite as well as they think, which in turn causes me to question why anyone thought this was Oscar-worthy; yes, it is “entertaining” in a fashion, and it is easy to see how people can find it weirdly enthralling. But many similar American films are usually relegated to B-movie purgatory, and if you don’t believe me, name one previous Oscar-winner that is filled with as many ludicrous plot machinations and unnecessary, stomach-turning violence as this one.
Parasite starts out looking at what passes for an impoverished lifestyle of the Kim family, although to the slumdog residents of Mumbai, it probably would pass for comfortably “middle class.” Their source of income seems to be in the employ of a pizza restaurant, doing in-home work folding pizza boxes. One-quarter of the boxes are rejected for being improperly folded, and the Kims are docked 10 percent of their pay, which the owner informs them they are fortunate that is all they lose. The initial impression is that this family is rather indolent, obsessed with social media and their cell phones. When they do get paid for their latest batch of boxes, they are “relieved” that they can get their phones and Internet reconnected.
A friend of the son Ki-woo, Min (a college student), brings them what he calls a “scholar’s rock,” which is supposed to bring “material wealth” to its owner.
Ki-Woo thanks him for the rock while they are out having a drink. Ki-woo admits that his parents are plenty healthy enough to work, but they just can’t seem to find any. Min is sympathetic with their “plight,” and offers to pass on the “job” he has as an English tutor for a high school girl from the rich Park family while he is studying abroad, even though Ki-Woo has absolutely no qualifications to tutor other than he supposedly knows some English. Still, the job pays well, and the girl to be tutored, Da-hye, is a nice girl who Min doesn’t want his fratboy friends to "slobber" over while he is gone.
Min is certainly a good “friend,” and it’s a wonder why all of a sudden he is being so “helpful.” But that is just the first of an ongoing process of one barely plausible plot mechanism after another. Ki-woo forges a document that claims he is a college student, and goes to the home of Da-hye, which suitably awes him by its sheer size.
Ki-woo meets the girl’s mother, Mrs. Park, who seems a bit suspicious at first and asserts that he can’t possibly be as good a tutor as Min, and insists on sitting on the first “lesson.” As she leads him through the house, it seems even more impressive—albeit empty—on the inside.
Mrs. Park is suitably impressed
after the first lesson. But something odd is going on. The little boy Da-song
seems to be “eccentric” and easily “distracted,” running around the house in
Native American garb. Da-hye later tells Ki-woo the boy is “faking” it, and he
is more aware than his parents think. Later Ki-woo gets his sister, Ki-jung, to
apply for the job of “tutoring” Da-song’s supposed artistic talents; going by
the name of Jessica. After being introduced
by Ki-woo, she manages to convince Mrs. Park than she can help the little boy
out of his supposed serious mental issues by getting him to draw more
“conventional” subjects. Frankly, you wonder why such an attractive woman like Ki-jung couldn't "attract" her own rich guy:
Despite knowing Min’s feelings about Da-hye, Ki-woo decides to take her for himself, and she is also clearly attracted to him.
Times are suddenly good for the Kim family, thanks to the “scholar’s rock.” They are seen eating in an all-you-can-eat cafeteria, apparently paid for by the grateful Mrs. Park, who is very impressed by Ki-woo’s “intellect.”
Mr. Park then discovers evidence that someone appears to have had sex in his limousine, and at first suspects Ki-jung (Jessica). The intention is to fire her, but through some clever verbal gymnastics she convinces the Parks that she is blameless, and the driver is then suspected, and he is the one who is fired. Ki-jung tells them she knows an older man who would be a more suitable driver, suggesting a man named Ki-taek—who just happens to be the father of Ki-woo and herself. It is suggested that Ki-jung planted the fake evidence, and that this is a scam being played by the Kim family to leech off the Parks. One should be thinking at this point that if this family was full of such “clever” people, then why have they been living in such relative “poverty”?
The Park’s housekeeper, Moon-gwang, seems to be suspicious of the new “help,” and there a plans afoot to get rid of her so that Ki-woo’s mother, Chung-sook, can take over the job and the whole family has a cushy job. They discover that the housekeeper is allergic to peaches (I told you that this is a weird movie), and they use peelings and juice to make her sick and thus have her removed. But now Da-song could be a problem, because after taking a sniff of Ki-taek, he tells his parents that the new help all “smell the same,” suggesting that they are all together in this somehow; but the Parks seem blind to such shenanigans.
Everything goes along as planned until the Parks leave on a camping trip, and Chung-sook and company decide to have the run of the house while they are gone. But then Moon-gwang makes a surprise appearance, and she does her own con by convincing the Kims to let her in and retrieve something she left in the basement below the kitchen. It is actually a secret compartment which appears to be a nuclear bomb shelter. While the rest of the Kims keep out of sight, Chung-sook discovers that Moon-gwang’s husband Geun-sae has been living there secretly for over four years (as I said, weird). Even the Parks are apparently unaware of its existence.
Chung-sook wants to call the police, but her husband, son and daughter suddenly tumble into the hallway and Moon-gwang, realizing that they are all in on a scam, turns the tables on them; she has them on her phone cam, and all she has to do is push the “send” button to expose them and send them all to jail. However, there is a rumble and the Kims retake control of the situation, but then they learn that the Parks are coming home early, and they have to find a way to clean up the mess they made in 8 minutes and get out of the house. Unfortunately they are still there when the Parks arrive and they have to sneak about from place to place to stay out of sight. Hiding under the sofa, Ki-taek listens to Mr. Park telling his wife that his smell “crosses the line.”
The Kims manage to make their get away, but don’t know what to do about Moon-gwang—who they badly injured—and her husband left behind tied up in the bomb shelter. Meanwhile there is a heavy rain and major flooding in their neighborhood and their basement home is completely swamped.
Weird piles on weird: if all four of them were making so much money off these rich people, then why were they still living in that shit hole? I mean literally, with their toilet exploding with fecal matter. So much for the power of that “scholar’s rock,” which Ki-woo still decides is the only thing worth “saving.” The Kims have to sleep in a large auditorium with all the other victims of flood, while they decide their next move.
Meanwhile Mrs. Park decides to have a birthday party in the yard for Da-song. Everyone is to dress-up as American Indians to amuse the boy. Ki-woo takes the opportunity to go into the basement to check on the people down there. In the interim, Moon-gwang has died of her injuries, and Geun-sae has gone mad with grief and revenge. He ambushes Ki-woo and uses the scholar’s rock to smash his skull, with lots and lots of blood. Geun-sae then “joins” the party looking like something out of Night of the Living Dead, stabbing Ki-jung fatally, along with a few other partygoers.
Geun-sae goes after Chung-sook, but she manages to stab him to death first. Da-song has apparently “fainted,” and Mr. Park insists on taking him to the hospital in his car, not thinking of Ki-jung and her condition; finding his car keys underneath the dead Gein-sae, his face cringes as mumbles something about how bad he smells, and Ki-taek, remembering Mr. Park insulting remark about his own “smell,” loses his mind and stabs Mr. Park to death before wandering off screen.
Ki-woo somehow “recovers” from his head-bludgeoning, but he is permanently impaired. He and his mother are convicted of fraud, but are given probation, and return to living in their previous squalid home. The film ends with the police not being able to find Ki-taek to charge him for the murder of Mr. Park. He is in fact hiding out in the bomb shelter; the Parks have moved out of the house, and it is now being occupied by a German family.
Parasite admittedly does have a certain “logic” to it; after all, the title is certainly apt, because the Kim family is parasitic and they ultimately kill the “host” they have lived well on. But there can be no escaping the many nonsensical aspects of the film that make it more your typical B-movie horror film. There are certainly more conventional, and better, films with similar social themes, such as the 1963 British drama The Servant. This movie doesn’t really work as a serious social commentary because the Kims are not very sympathetic. The rich Parks are obviously being exploited, but they are also dangerously naïve; only the little boy actually suspects that something odd is afoot, yet the film fails to utilize this knowledge in a way that he becomes the “hero” of the story by foiling the Kims’ plans.
Parasite is billed as a “black comedy,” but at no point was I even persuaded to crack a smile. Black comedies like Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove critique the behavior of people in serious situations, rendering them ridiculous and even dangerous. But we are not asked to analyze the Kim family’s actions as anything but opportunistic, not as a criminal “plan” with elements of farce. The Kims seemed too lazy and unimaginative at the start of the film, and besides, these are people who had trouble folding pizza boxes correctly! When Ki-taek talks about a new “plan” later in the film to deal with the problem they left in the bomb shelter, it isn’t a surprise that he can’t come up with one that makes any sense.
Parasite also adds cheap horror movie tropes and gore in the latter part of the film that simply leaves this viewer asking what the point of all of this was if we are supposed to take this at all “seriously.” It must be some fantasma to make the viewer believe they have just seen something so off-the-wall that there must be some “significance” to it. Who, after all, were the filmmakers intending us to “connect” with—the Kims or the Parks? If this was supposed to be a “social message” movie, that should have been the Kims, and if that was the intention, then the film certainly failed. Parasite is the first foreign language to win the Best Picture Oscar. I mean, this???
In this viewer’s final analysis, Slumdog Millionaire fit the usual Hollywood mold for what constitutes an Oscar-worthy film; Parasite was just the Oscar voters being “scammed.”
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