Directed by: Ramin Bahrani
Starring: Adarsh Gourav, Rajkummar Rao, Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Mahesh Manjrekar
Rated R, 125 minutes
The India of Ramin Bahrani’s “The White Tiger” defies the clichés that American viewers may have come to expect thanks to films like Danny Boyle’s “Slumdog Millionaire.” Published the same year that “Slumdog Millionaire” harped on the power of destiny to lift a man out of poverty, Aravind Adiga’s Booker Prize-winning novel here gets a fiery, uncompromising adaptation, one that asserts that destiny is nothing more than the product of human interference. By the same token, poverty and hunger and sickness, those classic hallmarks of an unlucky destiny, are merely the products of a greedy society.
From this premise, Bahrani (“99 Homes”) builds “The White Tiger” into a tragicomic social rage of epic scale. The movie paints a captivating and challenging portrait of the world’s largest democracy, targeting the injustices of the caste system while saving its harshest criticisms for the hypocrites who pretend at charity and compassion. In its biting satire, from its portrayal of menacing landlords and cynical politicians to its upstairs-downstairs humor, the movie feels like an obvious spiritual successor to Bong Joon-ho’s “Parasite.”
Across flashbacks and letters, our hero and narrator, Balram (Adarsh Gourav, “Die Trying”), walks us through the odyssey of his life, his escape from the confines of his status. At first his adventure is charmed: the hardest-studying boy in his village, he gets hired as the personal driver to the son of the village landlord, Ashok (Rajkummar Rao, “Newton”). The job takes him to Delhi, where, despite living in a dirty, windowless garage, Balram now has the chance to make something of himself.
His journey is complicated, though, by behaviors inherited from a long lineage of servitude. “They can see and smell the blood,” Balram narrates over images of a man listlessly butchering roosters, “yet they don’t rebel.” Of life in the metaphorical rooster coop, he explains, “The trustworthiness of servants is so strong that you can put the key of emancipation in a man’s hand and he will throw it back at you with a curse.” Fittingly, Balram’s demeanor is insistently deferential. He calls Ashok “Sir” despite Ashok’s protests; when Ashok’s wife, Pinky (Priyanka Chopra Jonas, “The Sky Is Pink”), asks what he wants to do with his life, Balram says without hesitation that he seeks only to serve. He wears an enigmatic and stupid smile constantly, as if grateful for every abuse thrown his way—and there are many.
His facade of gratitude hides a festering rage, however, and when Ashok and Pinky sell him out to save themselves after a mid-movie fiasco, Balram’s loyalties finally turn. He begins to see himself as that rare, once-in-a-generation creature, the servant who will rise above his masters—a white tiger in a jungle of lesser animals. The subsequent execution of Balram’s ambitions is rich with intrigues and grave acts, forcing us to reconcile our instinct to root for the underdog with his underhanded tactics and premeditated violence. Watching him scheme is like watching a house of cards reach higher and more precarious heights, knowing the downfall must eventually come.
This volatile character and his cunning come to life with extraordinary clarity in Adarsh Gourav, whose sly expressions and sleepy eyes give Balram’s heroics an approachable but unnerving quality. Stalking the streets of Delhi in his uniform of blue button-down and navy pants, Gourav cuts an unimpressive figure, inviting underestimation. But Balram is a convincing antihero for the modern age, a slow-burning rebel whose gradual evolution into a master of his own fate is the movie’s undeniable highlight. We know from the beginning that he eventually comes into better circumstances, but Gourav’s performance keeps us invested—and anxious—until the last loose ends are tied.
Of course, an endearing hero is just another part of the grift. This is on one level a quintessential rags-to-riches story, but it’s also a protest against the very concept, asking us whether Balram has truly triumphed over his obstacles, or if he has merely become the villain for a new cycle of human tragedy. If we accept the old adage that money is the root of all evil, then “The White Tiger” shows us how that evil can sneak up on us over a lifetime and finally, fatally, pounce.
Published in The Harvard Press on 2/5/2021.