Regional
(2009-02-16)
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FT. COLLINS, CO
(KUNC) -
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The 81st annual Academy awards will be handed out this weekend. One of the five films nominated for best picture has rekindled an old disorder for KUNC commentator Laura Bridgwater - one that will likely peak if the movie wins the Oscar...
I'm here before Oscar Night to shine the spotlight on a little-understood condition called PTMD. I first contracted it in the 70s from the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz.
You can officially diagnose yourself with PTMD, or Post Traumatic Movie Disorder, if you answer yes to any of the following questions:
After a scary movie, do you lock your windows twice?
After a ghost movie, do you think you can see dead people, too?
Do you talk into your sleeve after watching James Bond?
Or talk with your butt cheeks after seeing Jim Carrey?
Do you shiver at tighty-whities from viewing Will Ferrell?
Do you flinch when Javier Bardem flips a coin?
If you do any of these, you have PTMD, my Friendo.
My most recent flare up of this disorder was brought on by this year's Oscar-nominated movie Slumdog Millionaire. It's the story of an orphan boy named Jamal who grows up in the slums of Mumbai to become a contestant on the Indian version of Who Wants To Be a Millionaire?
I was disturbed by Jamal's childhood. I couldn't imagine my two children in his shoes or more exactly, in his lack there of. There was a scene with a communal outhouse that I can still smell.
Which is why, after watching this movie, I considered roofing the derelict dog run in our backyard with tin sheeting in support of slum dwellers worldwide.
Then I contemplated spending the night there, like people who voluntarily sleep on the streets to bring awareness to homelessness. I could be Schlumpdog Mommy. But what good would that do?
Besides, I don't think turning the dog run into a suburban blight is what President Obama had in mind when he said in his inaugural speech, " we can no longer afford indifference to the suffering outside our borders."
In my PTMD-addled state, I went online to Google Maps. I typed Mumbai in the search box and clicked the satellite view. I easily located the slums. How could I miss them? Mumbai is the second-most populous city in the world with 60 percent of its population living in squalor. The patchwork of roofs spread out beyond the horizon like the ocean.
I kept zooming in until a message popped up that read, "We are sorry, but we don't have imagery at this zoom level for this region." But I was close enough to see the snaky jumble of homes and feel the press of humanity.
To be fair, not all of the movie was traumatizing. I loved how this rags-to-riches tale used the game show format to tell Jamal's story. Each time he answered a question on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, the movie flashed back to some terrible incident that explained why he knew the correct answer.
It's a clever way to tell a story.
But creative structure aside, I couldn't shake the portrayal of Mumbai as Slumbai. I felt a call to action. I couldn't just sit alone in my dog run hoping that Google Maps would find me.
At some point, after going down an online rabbit hole, I stumbled across an international organization that helps the world's most marginalized children. My daughters had been looking for a charity to donate to. So instead of making over the dog run into This Old Slum, we bought Valentine's cards from Save the Children. It was a small gesture, like taking two aspirin after you've had a heart attack. Maybe it will make a difference.
This Sunday, on the biggest night in Hollywood, I hope that the actor who played Jamal gets to thank the Academy--not because I think this fairy tale is the best movie of the year but because if it wins, a slew of Oscars would shine a global spotlight on those sheet metal roofs and put a dint in the ceiling of our indifference.
But even if Slumdog Millionaire doesn't win, I realize that a fair judge of a movie is if it galvanizes you to PTMD-induced action, whether that's bolting doors, fearing big white undies, or contemplating social inequality.
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