MORE ROAR THAN SOAR
Netflix’s The White Tiger tells a gripping tale. The problem is it does so largely in English
There is something about shining a light on the deprived (and depraved) side of India that has lured many international filmmakers, including Roland Joffe (City of Joy, 1992) and Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire, 2008). Ramin Bahrani, best known for his independent dramas Chop Shop (2007) and 99 Homes (2014), is the latest to join this collective. His literary inspiration is Aravind Adiga’s Booker Prize-winning debut novel, The White Tiger. The 2008 novel centres on Balram, an entrepreneur who writes letters to Wen Jiabao, then premier of China, detailing his rise against all odds. The picture he paints of India is not so pretty. In this current climate, Adiga’s protagonist may invite censure for pandering to our eastern neighbour, but the author’s examination of India’s systemic disparities, and the conflicts they create, remains relevant.
“It is my duty, sir, to be kind,” says Balram (Adarsh Gourav) to his ‘master’ Ashok (Rajkummar Rao). While Balram sees Ashok as his ticket to economic emancipation, US-returned Ashok sees Balram as a model of untapped potential. As Balram familiarises himself to the ways of the rich and their bigotry, Ashok struggles with corruption and stigma. The film works best as an account of two dreamy-eyed, frustrated men, separated by caste and status. Just that one is smarter, despite his lack of education. In one hilarious scene, for instance, Balram takes Ashok and his wife Pinky (Priyanka Chopra Jonas) on a ride, literally, as he exploits their god-fearing ways by cooking up a long list of holy sites and myths.
Bahrani keeps the ‘poverty porn’ to a minimum. Instead, he partners well with cinematographer Paolo Carnera and production designer Chad Keith to show class divisions and Balram’s own biases. However, the decision to have a majority of the cast speak English makes the film accessible to international audiences, but for Indian viewers, robs the narrative of authenticity. The script is stuffed with sardonic insights and observations from Balram—“For the poor, there are only two ways to get on top—crime and politics.” In the book, these aphorisms fly. On screen, they feel contrived.
Netflix’s second adaptation of an Adiga novel—the first being the series Selection Day—rests largely on Gourav’s shoulders. Immensely watchable as the angry young man, Balram, unlike his Bollywood predecessors, is driven and deceptive. Sadly, this comes at the cost of marginalising the characters of Ashok and Pinky whose marriage woes are barely addressed. Nonetheless, The White Tiger works as an interesting companion piece to Serious Men, another Netflix adaptation. Both highlight the hypocrisy of the privileged to justify the angst of the downtrodden. In both, it’s the leading men who save the day.