Slumdog Millionaire Full Movie In Hindi Dubbed Hd Download
Lillia Iniguez
My question might be somewhat naive considering every camera is different but, could the "look" of Slumdog Millionaire be achieved on Blackmagic cinema cameras?
How much of the "look" of Slumdog Millionaire was created in the grade and could this look be replicated with the BMCC?
Silicon Imaging cameras just seem to have a nicer filmic quality to a lot of other digital cameras, in particular a very pleasing highlight roll off. Can the silicon imaging look be replicated on BM cameras?
Actually slumdog was mostly shot on film. There are many digital shots but most of them are hand-held running stuff when they're children and of course the night stuff. So that's why the film looks great! It's film! :)
Something I do find curious: the triangular bokeh indicates that the second shot was taken with either S16 Super Speeds or early, Mk 1 Super Speeds or "B-Speeds". This is what the IMDB technical data indicate:
Ok thanks guys!
I read that about 80% of the film was shot digitally and that's why its credited as the first digitally shot film to win best cinematography at the oscars so I assumed these shots were from the SI2k cameras.
In all honesty I really do think cameras do have a "look". If this was not so everyone would be using 5D's for their feature films claiming that all they need is "lighting and art direction" (I'm not trying to be offensive to your comment I'm just trying to highlight a point). Obviously lighting and art direction are central to a particular "look" of a film but different cameras do carry different "looks" and i think the Si2k is a good example of that.
Does everyone else seriously think these shots were done on 35mm film?
I personally like how the camera's look. I'm absolutely not in love, nor would I consider them a replacement for film in any way shape or form. Personally, having shot and worked with MANY of the D cinema camera's, the Alexa is the only one which has fooled me. Every camera has it's issues, just like every film stock can usually be pointed out. So in the past where the stock and lenses generated the look, today the camera head's do which means people need to shoot with many different camera's to get different looks, if they want that.
I have been a long advocate of the image quality and look that the si2k delivers. Built in texture that no other camera has. I own 2 Bmpcc and a bmcc also. I have shot side by side comparisons of the same scene and setting.
In slumdog, it's pretty easy to pick out the shots done on the 5d dslrs, they have a very plasticy feel, and they also did some longer exposure techniques to create a certain different feeling such as flashbacks.
The si2k also has some interesting high speed options. I helped them develop new frame rates for the sidvr 3.0 recording software. Instead of locking you in at 720p 85fps or 2k 30fps, we built in between frame resolution /rates.
Because the height of the image actually dictates the speed the sensor can record at, we added at 60fps 1440p and 48fps 1660p. Which is plenty for some of the cinema and broadcast work I've been using it for.
For instance, the long-standing conflict between Muslims and Hindus in India has a devastating effect on the main character, Jamal. In one particularly jarring scene, Jamal, who is Muslim, watches his mother die at the hand of a Hindu mob. Tensions between these two groups have affected the country for decades, and international awareness of this conflict is important.
In the film, an orphaned Jamal and his brother are picked up by a man who runs an operation that turns homeless, parentless children into beggars. The man later pours hot liquid into the eyes of another orphan, blinding him before sending him out as a beggar.
The awards and recognition for Slumdog Millionaire are well deserved, and Boyle and the cast should be congratulated for not only creating a spectacular film, but promoting international awareness of places like India, where real slumdogs rarely get a chance at a million dollars.
On the way to see "Slumdog Millionaire" in Kolkata, I had my cabdriver pass through the slum district of Tangra. I lived there more than 35 years ago, when I was in my late teens, but the place has barely changed. The cab threaded a maze of narrow lanes between shacks built from black plastic and corrugated metal. Scrawny men sat outside, chewing tobacco and spitting into the dirt. Naked children defecated in the open, and women lined up at the public taps to fetch water in battered plastic jerry cans. Everything smelled of garbage and human waste. I noticed only one difference from the 1960s: a few huts had color TVs.
I still ask myself how I finally broke out. Jamal, the slumdog in Danny Boyle's award-winning movie, did it the traditional cinematic way, via true love, guts and good luck. People keep praising the film's "realistic" depiction of slum life in India. But it's no such thing. Slum life is a cage. It robs you of confidence in the face of the rich and the advantaged. It steals your pride, deadens your ambition, limits your imagination and psychologically cripples you whenever you step outside the comfort zone of your own neighborhood. Most people in the slums never achieve a fairy-tale ending.
I was luckier than Jamal in this way: I was no orphan. My parents came from relatively prosperous families in East Bengal (now Bangladesh), but the newlywed couple lost practically everything in the sectarian riots that led up to India's independence. They fled to Patna, the capital of northeastern India's Bihar state, where I was born a few years later. The first of my five sisters was born there in a rat-infested hut one rainy night when I was 3. My father was out of town, working as a construction laborer 100 miles away. My mother sent me with my 6-year-old brother to fetch the midwife, an opium-smoking illiterate. The baby was born before we got back, so the midwife just cut the umbilical cord with a razor blade and left. My mother spent the rest of the night trying to find a spot where the roof wouldn't leak on the newborn.
Those days ended abruptly when we challenged a rival gang whose members had teased some girls on our turf. Both sides suffered serious injuries before police arrived to break it up. My parents didn't try to stop me from fleeing town. I made my way to Ranchi, a small city then in southern Bihar. I took on a new name and holed up in a squalid neighborhood. A local tough guy befriended me. He and his partners liked to waylay travelers at night. He always kept me away from his holdups, but he fed me when I had no other food. I also fell in with a group of radical leftists. I didn't care much about ideology, but they offered the sense of belonging I used to get from my old street gang. I spent the next five years moving from one slum to another, always a step ahead of the police. For money I took odd jobs like peddling newspapers and washing cars.
I might have spent the rest of my life in the slums or in prison if not for books. By the time I was 6, my parents had taught me to read and write Bengali. Literature gave me a special refuge. With Jack London (in translation) I could be a brave adventurer, and with Jules Verne I could tour the world. I worked my way up to Balzac, Hemingway and Dostoevsky. I finally began teaching myself English with the help of borrowed children's books and a stolen Oxford dictionary. For pronunciation I listened to Voice of America broadcasts and the BBC World Service on a stolen transistor radio. I would get so frustrated I sometimes broke into sobs.
I started hanging around the offices of an English weekly newspaper in Ranchi. Its publisher and editor, an idealistic lawyer-cum-journalist named N. N. Sengupta, hired me as a copy boy and proofreader for the equivalent of about $4 a month. It was there that I met Dilip Ganguly, a dogged and ambitious reporter who was visiting from New Delhi. He came to know that I was living in a slum, suffering from duodenal ulcers. One night he dropped by the office after work and found me visibly ill. He invited me to New Delhi. I said goodbye to my slum friends the next day and headed for the city with him.
In New Delhi I practiced my English on anyone who would listen. I eventually landed an unpaid internship at a small English-language daily. I was delirious with joy. I spent all my waking hours at the paper, and after six months I got a paying job. I moved up from there to bigger newspapers and better assignments. While touring America on a fellowship, I dropped in at NEWSWEEK and soon was hired. That was 25 years ago.
My home now is a modest rented apartment in a gated community in New Delhi. I try to keep in touch with friends from the past. Some are dead; others are alcoholics, and a few have even made good lives for themselves. I've met former slum dwellers who broke out of the cage against odds that were far worse than I faced. Still, most slum dwellers never escape. Neither do their kids. No one wants to watch a movie about that. "Slumdog" was a hit because it throbs with excitement, hope and positive energy. But remember an ugly fact: slums exist, in large part, because they're allowed to exist. Slumdogs aren't the only ones whose minds need to be opened up.
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