Slumdog Millionaire

There are crimes aplenty in Slumdog Millionaire, which I’ve just watched, although it isn’t a ‘crime film’ – the crimes are not the prime concerns of the story. It is a truly marvellous movie – I’ve seen a number of very good ones lately, but this is probably the most exhilarating. And it’s interesting from a writer’s perspective because of its narrative structure.

The central idea of the plot is that a poor young man who works in an Indian call centre embarks on a winning spree answering questions of ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’ The police interrogate (and torture!) him, believing him to be a cheat. But as he explains how he knew the answers to the questions he was asked, a remarkable story unfolds.

Flashback is a tricky device for any writer. If it isn’t handled carefully, it can wreck the momentum of the story. Even the great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle struggled with flashback in the longer Sherlock stories. But here, Simon Beaufoy’s screenplay, based on a novel by Vikas Swarup, is extremely effective. The secret of success lies in the combination of character development with fast-paced action and a stunning evocation of the life of the ‘slumdogs’ And because I’m keen on quizzes, the quiz element added a layer of fascination.

A terrific film. Before I saw it, I wondered if its reputation was overblown – but I’m delighted to say that it deserves the accolades it’s received. Superbly acted, with very good music by A.R.Rahman. Recommended.

Patrick Hamilton

There are three interesting biographies of Patrick Hamilton – few writers who work in the crime genre are so blessed, although maybe this is because Hamilton is not always described as a ‘crime writer’ (though he would be if he were working today, I think.) One of the books is Through a Glass Darkly, by Nigel Jones, a sound piece of work that is well worth reading.

Jones is in possession of many private papers relating to Hamilton, and was generous enough to make these available to Sean French, who wrote another biography not long afterwards. Sean French is now better known as one half of the best-selling crime-writing duo Nicci French, but his Patrick Hamilton: a life shows him to be a very accomplished biographer as well.

Rather spookily, French describes the sociopathic Ralph Ernest Gorse as an ‘oblique self-portrait’ of Hamilton. Like Jones, he doesn’t try to place Hamilton in the context of crime writing history generally (a missed opportunity, I feel) but he describes with some poignancy the bitter life of a man who knew great success, but also tragedy – he was disabled and disfigured when a motor car ran into him while he was crossing the road, his sex life was often depressing, he suffered mental problems, and his addiction to alcohol ultimately cost him his life. His judgment, it has to be said, was hopeless – a Marxist who never joined the Communist Party, he was a big fan of Stalin, and was bemused when the truth about his hero came out.

The third biography is The Light Went Out, by Patrick’s elder brother, Bruce Hamilton. There was a close and curious relationship between the two men. Bruce was also a writer, and much of his work unquestionably falls within the crime genre. His frustrated devotion to Patrick shines through the pages, even though, according to Sean French, the longer and unpublished version of the memoir casts a rather different light – he seems to have been jealous of Patrick’s greater literary talents.

Because Patrick was a fine writer, Bruce’s own literary achievements tend to be under-estimated, even by Sean French. I’ve read several of Bruce’s books, and they are interestingly different from the run of the mill whodunits of the time, though one or two of them show the same weird adoration of Stalin and Soviet Russia. But there’s no doubt that Patrick is, and will remain, better remembered, and these three books, taken together, provide copious fascinating nformation about a life of soured brilliance.

Another thing about Bruce, by the way (sorry, I just can’t resist trivia.) His godfather was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.