Jamal is a Muslim teenager who's spent most of his young life in the crowded slums of Mumbai, scavenging to survive. Through happenstance—or call it destiny— the 18yearold (Dev Patel) is selected to appear on the Hindi version of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?" the quiz show that offers contestants an increasingly challenging double-or-nothing series of questions.

Jamal is on the verge of answering the final question, of winning an astonishing 20 million rupees— a feat that nobody in India has accomplished. And he does not know the answer.

Jamal has the option of walking away with 10 million rupees, saying "Enough" and leaving the game show a very rich man. But he has decided to play one last time. Thus far he has known all the answers, not because he is particularly intelligent but because he has lived a life that has, by remarkable and frequently tragic circumstance, provided him with the slivers of information he's needed.

The police, however, believe that Jamal has cheated. How can a chaiwalla (and that would be our version of "trailer trash") know all the answers? He is interrogated— an experience somewhat different from American justice, as electricity is employed to facilitate truth— and while he's in custody, through a series of amazingly entwined, brilliantly rendered flashbacks, we learn just how fate has inexplicably structured events up to this moment.

In a sense, "Slumdog Millionaire" is the tantalizing offspring of "Oliver Twist" and "Quiz Show"— a sensitive and illuminating ragsto-riches fairy tale.

However, this is a fairy tale not for the squeamish—more drama than Disney. (Think Guillermo del Toro's "Pan's Labyrinth," not "Cinderella.") The film is intense, occasionally shockingly so.

Jamal and his brother, Salim, are denizens of a poverty unimaginable here, their home little more than a garbage dump, and director Danny Boyle does not shy away from showing us its horrors. From afar, the endless patchwork hovels are strangely beautiful, a surrealist's mural—yet up close, the brutality and squalor are breathtaking in an entirely different way.

And suddenly, Jamal finds himself at a crossroad unimaginable to most of us. "Slumdog Millionaire" is his story.

The film nearly went straight to video, unable to find a U.S. distributor (it wasn't based on a comic book or superhero) until Fox Searchlight picked it up and, after a terrific response at the Telluride Film Festival, ran with it. Oh, and it's filmed in both English and occasionally in Hindi with English subtitles—and is the most cleverly subtitled film I've ever seen. I won't elaborate, but take notice.

And kudos to the soundtrack— a Hindirapfolksysoulful something, otherwise unidentifiable (by me) but strangely addictive and appropriate.

Yes, "Slumdog Millionaire" is overtly sentimental. So is "Forest Gump" and nobody seemed to mind. Yes, it is both a horrific and joyous film. Yes, it can be at times overwhelmingly, brutally honest.

To my knowledge, the last film of this particular magnitude was Fernando Meirelles' 2002 "Cidade de Deus" ("City of God")—all the same elements apply. Yes, "Slumdog" is utterly refreshing, sidestepping the often formulaic agenda offered by Hollywood's puppeteers. (Nothing wrong with much of Hollywood's fare lately; it's just nice to occasionally step outside the box.)

For my money, "Slumdog Millionaire" obliterates the box. It is a stylistic Indian fairy tale—and yes, a love story, too—an ultimately heartwarming holiday treat, one of the most incredible films of the year.