There's a decent chance that the nominees for next year's best picture Oscar will include some unorthodox titles. In addition to the usual generic suspects – highly-strung period drama (Changeling), thespian showcase (Frost/Nixon), martyred visionary biopic (Milk) – for the first time the serious contenders also include a superhero movie and an animated feature, in the shape of The Dark Knight and WALL-E.

Is this a portent that Hollywood is broadening its mind, entertaining a more meritocratic idea of quality film-making? Perhaps. If it heralds the promotion of less mediocre sentimental dross and more accomplished imaginative work, this can hardly be a bad thing; it would be nice, for instance, for the Academy eventually to recognise that good comedy is as worthy of recognition as good drama.

But even if the bat and the bot do get nominated – even if one of them wins – will this really tell us much about the state of film-making today beyond the fact that the industry likes a winner? Both The Dark Knight and WALL-E are solidly classical in terms of their production histories and production values and it seems unlikely, to say the least, that either would be in the running had they bombed at the box office.

Another contender, although not necessarily a better picture, might offer a better idea of the future of film. Having attracted festival buzz, positive reviews and impressive sales on its US opening last month, Slumdog Millionaire is being heavily touted in the run-up to awards season. Directed by Danny Boyle, it tells the story of Mumbai teenager Jamal (Dev Patel), a former street kid who wins the Indian version of Who Wants to Be A Millionaire? and then has to explain his success to the sceptical local constabulary.

What attributes does Slumdog Millionaire have that make it a more forward-looking production than its Oscar rivals? For one thing, it's culturally transnational: not only is the film set and shot in India, a large part of its dialogue is spoken in Hindi, its score is by AR Rahman and its cast includes Bollywood stars Irfan Khan and Anil Kapoor. Although its lead, Dev Patel, is British, it's notable that his utterly sympathetic character is Muslim – and even more notable that the fact is barely commented on in the film except insofar as it makes him the target of violence.

In other words, the setting isn't mere exoticism; it speaks of an attempt to serve one of the world's biggest entertainment markets on its own terms while also pleasing Hollywood audiences – a double-whammy strategy that could reap dividends in years to come. Tellingly, the film also takes transnationalism as one of its subjects: Jamal works in a call centre decorated with London Underground paraphernalia and whose employees are kept up to date on EastEnders plotlines to improve their chances of successful small talk with their customers. Aptly enough, the customers are mobile phone users – another emblem of 21st-century connectivity – and a mobile plays a crucial part in the story's climax.

Also striking is the extent to which a corporate brand – in this case the sensationally successful game-show format – is hardwired into the plot. As 20th-century advertising models break down, the old tactic of product placement has metastatised into branded content, a synergetic relationship between commercial product and artistic product in which the one is indivisible from the other. Recent examples include Somers Town and Transporter 3, in which particular modes of transport were integral to the progression of the story. However off-putting you might find the practice, you'd better get used to it.

There's one other aspect of Slumdog Millionaire that might prove increasingly resonant in coming years. Although structured around the winning of a fortune, the film is not materialist in its sensibility. Its depiction of poverty, though visually striking and laced with humour, is far from romanticised: young Jamal is regularly subjected to violence and humiliation, and at one point is literally covered in shit. Yet its view of money is worse: it is seen as a corrupting, alienating force that jeopardises bonds of blood and love. It's not a new perspective, but in the straitened times ahead indifference to consumerism may be a useful ethos. Whether it appeals to members of the Academy, of course, is a different matter.