Not only does it make a distinct effort to focus on the narrow intersections on the aforementioned Venn diagram, but it does so with inside-out authenticity in a way that makes its inherent Eastern-Western cultural clash a key facet of its text, each continually rubbing up against one another in its devastating, expertly crafted second half. This is key in understanding its narrative point of view.
Saroo Brierley’s story is not told through flashbacks. As it turns out, Lion is an entirely different breed. An “exotic” cultural disconnect between the storytellers who are perceived as “the norm” and subjects whose experiences can only be recognized if there is, in fact, a disconnect between worlds, leading to the lack of commonality becoming an inadvertent focal point. Million Dollar Arm, Dev Patel’s own Slumdog Millionaire, and most Western films about Indians taking place in India. On paper, Lion is the kind of film that gives me pause, marketed as the story of an Australian adoptee reminiscing about and subsequently searching for his lost Indian roots, written and directed through a white, Western lens like so many other films that fall under the leering “poverty porn” category.
#Indian action movie lion full
There’s no consensus on whether marketing and prior expectations ought to factor in to a critique, and that’s a critical loophole I hope to take full advantage of.
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