“Indian Summers”:
Exemplary nine-part “Masterpiece” melodrama begins on PBS.
It begins with the image of a child’s toy horse seeming to float above the thick vegetation of the Indian countryside in 1932. In a moment the camera reveals it is among furniture, bags and bundles borne by a long, ant-like line of Indians along a path through the jungle.
Summer is coming to the subcontinent and the British are decamping northward to the cooler foothills of the Himalayas in “Indian Summers,” an exemplary nine-part “Masterpiece” melodrama beginning Sunday on PBS. Each episode will leave you impatient for the next, and that is appropriate as well, because impatience among Indians who have been ruled by Britain since 1858 is one of the themes creator-writer Paul Rutman explores with exquisite care in the miniseries.
Along the way, we get murder, blackmail, jealousy, hatred, love affairs, illegitimate children and interracial sex, all set against a smart analysis of the complicated politics of the British Raj.
This is melodrama, yes, but melodrama of the highest, most intelligent order, as Rutman lays bare layers of prejudice on the part of the British minority as well as among Indians themselves. For the British, it is a pervasive foundation of imperialism. For the Indians, it is manifest in adherence to a rigid caste system.
Much of the story is set in a resort known as the Simla Club, run by a boozy, manipulative widow named Cynthia Coffin ( Julie Walters). A sign near the front door of the place makes it clear: “No Indians or dogs” allowed, except, of course, for Indian servants. Here is a place the British can “get away from it all,” as one character puts it, and by “all,” we mean the “blacks,” the “sables,” and even the n-word.
Cynthia welcomes the annual arrival of her British guests, including the handsome and ambitious young secretary to the viceroy, Ralph Whelan (Henry LloydHughes); his sister Alice ( Jemima West) and her infant son, recently arrived for a visit from England; an American brother and sister, Gene and Madeleine Mathers (Edward Hogg and Olivia Grant); young Ian McLeod (Alexander Cobb), visiting his drunken reprobate of an uncle, Stafford Armitage (Richard McCabe); and the viceroy himself, Lord Willingdon (Patrick Malahide). A bit of mystery surrounds the status and whereabouts of Alice’s husband.
Cynthia isn’t the only year-round British resident of the area, though. There’s also the Raworth family: husband Dougie (Craig Parkinson), who runs the mission school for abandoned half-caste children; his nervous, insecure wife Sarah (Fiona Glascott); and their young son Matthew ( Julian Fenby). Sarah is desperately unhappy in India and has good reason to be jealous of her husband’s relationship with the school’s teacher, Leena Prasad (Amber Rose Revah), a half-caste herself.
The story takes place as the Congress Party and its leader, Mohandas Gandhi, are stepping up their demands for independence from British rule. But other Indians believe the British have offered advantages that would be lost if India were to gain self-rule. That is the view of young Aafrin Dalal (Nikesh Patel), who has only limited prospects until he is wounded by a bullet meant for Ralph Whelan and, as a reward, is hired as Whelan’s secretary, or
munshi. The word itself suggests the widespread view of Indians as veritable pets by their English overlords.
Aafrin’s sister, Sooni (Aysha Kala), rebukes him for being a toady for the Brits and not joining her in supporting the Congress Party. Aafrin just wants to be able to marry his secret girlfriend, Sita (Ellora Torchia), but she’s no more acceptable to his family than he is to hers. The Dalals are Parsee, of Persian ancestry, and marriage outside their sect is out of the question.
Rutman uses both sex and violence as lenses to examine the culture of prejudice that only fuels the independence movement that would finally achieve self-rule in 1948. Aafrin’s new job means he may be able to live his own life and make his own decisions, including being able to marry the woman he loves. But the job also brings him into close contact with Alice Whelan, who came to his aid after he was shot and is increasingly drawn to him.
A beggar woman named Jaya (Hasina Haque) has an illegitimate half-caste child who is taken in by Raworth and Leena at the mission school. But who is his British father? Ralph Whelan engages in frequent, rambunctious sex with Madeleine, to whom he becomes engaged, but does he love her or is he just taking a wife in order to position himself as a candidate to become the next viceroy?
Armitage, the owner of a failed tea plantation, is in debt to his neighbor, Ramu Sood (Alyy Khan), who eventually takes legal action that results in a physical confrontation. Armitage leaves for home, and his nephew ends up working for Sood, which outrages other “Britishers” because it is unsuitable for a Brit to be an employee of a native. Sood is later falsely charged with murder, which only deepens the rift between the British and Indians.
British writers have often addressed the subject of the British in India, including E.M Forster in “A Passage to India,” filmed by David Lean in 1984, and the novels “The Raj Quartet” by Paul Scott, which served as the basis for the hugely popular PBS (by way of ITV) series, “The Jewel in the Crown,” also broadcast in the mid-’80’s. During the reign of Queen Victoria, India was so much considered a jewel in the crown that Victoria was made empress of India in addition to her other titles. That title went with the job through the reign of George VI, father of Queen Elizabeth.
But a cultural re-evaluation of Britain’s relationship with India had been taking place for years before 1948. Colonialism, once a signifier of a nation’s power, became a signifier of subjugation and repression. As time went on, it was replaced by the more directly pejorative term, imperialism. For many citizens of colonizing nations, a reason for pride became a reason for shame.
That is the overarching discussion “Indian Summers” prompts, but it’s the immediate power of personal stories of blackmail, sex, murder and injustice that hooks us and keeps us on the edge of our seat, all but saying aloud, “And then what happens?”
Rutman’s writing, his exquisite sense of character, the subtle shadings behind even the most sexual or violent events combine for much of the way to make “Indian Summers” so exceptional.
Toward the end, though, Rutman stumbles. The writing and incidents of the final two episodes of the first season feel rushed and not entirely authentic as Rutman tries to tie up just enough loose ends to satisfy us while keeping doors open for season two. We still care enormously, and the takeaway here really is that there will be a season two, and it cannot come soon enough.