Yes. All hail India! Most glori(fied|ous) country on Earth!
Regardless, the actors did make an excellent movie. I'll give them that one ^^
I can understand that Vineeth may feel proud about the awards, given India does not feature that frequently in the Hollywood Oscar awards, but then what about Bollywood. I would imagine that Bollywood would be a much more authentic, and greater reason to take great pride in as it has been made in India, exported to the whole of the world, and has produced of the highest quality productions. Perhaps coming from that point of view, the Hollywood Oscars must pale in significance?
I'm not as aware of the issues surrounding Bollywood and its relationship to western films, but I have to say I really enjoyed the movie. Not because it was Indian, but rather on a creative level. The story was very interesting and it was told in a great way.
Congrats to all the cast, director, writer, and everyone else involved.
Yes, of course only exceptional talents can hope for a better future at the Oscar level.
But with one award, they proved that it is possible and if it is done once, it can be repeated. The talents are here and more will come... now they got a new height to think of and work for.
Oscar works !
Quality is a matter of debate. I must confess that I am not a regular movie watcher and for last one month, I have never seen a movie in full, either from Bollywood or from Hollywood. But when someone from India won Oscar for the first time, it sounds interesting.. that's all.
JAI HO, JEEVES!
Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but there’s no smooth without a rough, as I’ve always maintained. Ask Bertram and he’ll tell you that there’s no good in this world which is unqualified, if that’s the word I want. Take the case of my man Jeeves. The fellow bursts with brains and loyalty, and his worth, to borrow one of his own favourite gags, is beyond the price of rubies. But grow a moustache, or wear purple socks, or tie a garish tie, and the blighter can be relied upon to cut up nasty. Under these circs, he will exhibit a moody, sullen, cold, and unfriendly side to his nature. Dashed unpleasant, I mean to say. Such as at this time I speak of now, just minutes before our departure for the airport, to catch our flight to the city of Mumbai, in order to get as far away as dictated by the demands of prudence (for reasons much too complex to enter into now) from Madeline Bassett and Sir Roderick Glossop and Honoria Glossop and Roderick Spode and my Aunt Agatha and a host of other prominent blots upon the Wooster landscape. As we waited for the taxi to bear us away to the airport, Jeeves busied himself with a pair of scissors, snipping away at the baggage tags from a previous journey, and snipping, let me tell you, in a dashed marked manner.
‘Jeeves’, I said.
‘Sir?’
‘You snip away, let me tell you, in a dashed marked manner.’
‘Indeed, sir?’
‘And that eyebrow of yours, Jeeves.’
‘Sir?’
‘It quivers. Like the dickens. Why does your eyebrow quiver, Jeeves?’
‘I am sorry if it occasions you distress, sir. But the quivering of my eyebrow is an involuntary action – one upon which I have no deliberate control – triggered by the sight of objects that may be described as especially loathsome and repulsive__’
‘And what do you see about you, Jeeves, that is especially loathsome and repulsive?’ (Bertram being suave, as you can see.)
‘Forgive me sir, but those three yellow pieces of string you wear over your jacket like a cross-belt are not, if I may borrow a phrase from the poet John Keats, a thing of beauty – nor, indeed, a joy forever.’
‘You refer, Jeeves, to my Sacred Thread, with which I have adorned myself, that I might gain an entrée into the world of India’s most exclusive and elite society. It is my little bow in the direction of ethnic chic. You would not pronounce it soigné, Jeeves?’
‘It is, conceivably, soigné, sir, for a brahmacharyya to sport his yajno pavitra on his bare torso upon his ordination as a dwija on the occasion of his upanayanam ceremony, but in your own case, if I may be permitted__’
‘Jeeves!’
‘Sir?’
‘What drivel is this?’
‘Not drivel, sir: Sanskrit.’
‘I can do without the Sanskrit, Jeeves.’
‘Very well, sir.’
‘Put a sock in the Sanskrit, Jeeves.’
‘Very well, sir.’
‘I can take the Sanskrit or leave it, Jeeves, and right now I am dashed well inclined to leave it.’
‘Just as you say, sir.’
‘And now, to return to the res. Where were we?’
‘We were in the middle of an exchange, sir, on an especially loathsome and repulsive object___’.
‘There is no need to be personal, Jeeves. Enough. I have other things upon my mind. There will be no further talk of the sartorial, cultural, or social appropriateness or otherwise of my Sacred Thread. I am preoccupied by matters of more immediate import. Not to put too fine a point on it, I am in a bit of a twitter. Indeed, and I state this with manly candour, I am all in a doo-dah. I need you, Jeeves, to rally around your young master in his hour of peril. I have just heard over the telephone that the British Council in Mumbai has arranged for me to turn up, upon our arrival there, at a television studio, to be interviewed for my opinion of the film Slumdog Millionaire which, as you are no doubt aware, has been nominated for the Nobel Prize.’
‘A somewhat unlikely contingency, if I may say so, sir. The Nobel Committee does not award Prizes to moving pictures. It is possible that what you have in mind is the Oscar.’
‘The Oscar, then, Jeeves. Let us not quibble. Quibbling, if that’s what we’re up to, is going to take us nowhere, in the light of the horror that is upon me. Do you realize I am going to be interviewed on television by the woman Barker Dutt?’
‘Why, may I ask, sir, do you view the matter with such anxiety?’
‘Why? Why? Have you any idea what kind of woman this Barker Dutt is? She is a ghastly female, Jeeves. Far ghastlier than Madeline Bassett and Honoria Glossop and my Aunt Agatha all rolled into one. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes and waves her arms and laughs like a hyena. She does all these things in a way calculated to inspire pity and terror in the subject. And then she puts words in your bally mouth, Jeeves. She’s going to trip me up. She’s going to unleash a lynch mob on me when all I want is to be able to look back on my travels and say that the natives were friendly and we decided to stay the night. She will lay traps for me, Jeeves. If I say I don’t like the film, she’ll accuse me of influencing the judges against handing out the Nobel Prize to the film. If I say I do like it, she’ll accuse me of endorsing all the bad things the film says about India. She’ll say, with no regard for my Sacred Thread, that I’m just spoiling their fun for them, depriving them of the small pleasures of lynching their untouchables and burning their women and fiddling while millions of people have to live in the poverty and squalor of their slums. I’m dashed if I do, and I’m dashed if I don’t. I’m caught on the horns of that thing – what d’you call it, Jeeves? – that thing on the horns of which people do get caught from time to time.’
‘A dilemma, sir?’
‘A di-by-golly-lemma is precisely the thing on the horns of which I find myself caught. What will I do, Jeeves?’
‘You may wish to consider a stratagem which combines the measures of Stout Denial and Wearing Your Opponent Down With Non-Sequiturs, sir. I would advance, if I may, the virtue of not ever answering Miss Barker Dutt’s questions. Instead, I would advocate your adopting the simple and charming expedient of responding to her every query by breaking out into song. I am inclined to suggest just two words of a popular ditty from the picture, executed to this tune: “Jai Ho”!’
‘”Jai Ho”, Jeeves?’
‘That was very well done, sir, if I may say so.’
‘Shall I try again? Jai Ho? How does that sound, eh? Jai Ho!’
‘Excellent, sir.’
‘Well, there’s no denying it, Jeeves. Your plan will, in all likelihood, extricate the young master from the old hole. I may yet expect to get away with my life from the Barker Menace in Mumbai. I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude. Since you feel so strongly about it, I’ll make the supreme sacrifice, and eschew the joys of the Sacred Thread. “Eschews” it is, is it not Jeeves?’
‘You employ what M. Flaubert always called the mot juste, sir. But there really is no need for you to take the trouble of removing the Thread from your person. I regret to say, sir, that I have accidentally severed the Thread with my scissors, and detached it from its moorings.’
‘Accidentally, did you say, Jeeves?’
‘It was a most regrettably inadvertent act upon my part, sir.’
‘Really, Jeeves?’
‘Without a peradventure of a doubt, sir.’
‘Jai Ho, Jeeves.’
‘Very good, sir.’
By S. Subramanian, following on inspiration supplied by Shiva Shankar. The blame is mutual.
We don't have any Oscar for bollywood !
