Monkey Man: Dev Patel's Directorial Debut Is Basically White Man's Agneepath

monkey man: dev patel’s directorial debut is basically white man’s agneepath

Some transient moments in life—however insignificant in the grand scheme of things—stick like leeches and then stay with you forever. One such moment that profoundly resonated with me, of course, involves Dev Patel. It was his first BAFTA win, back in 2017 for Lion, when a visibly nervous Dev got up on stage and said something to the effect of being grateful for the audience’s acceptance despite his lack of conventional good looks and Indian heritage; hesitant but happy, nearly apologetic.

“… To my amazing team who had the insane task of trying to get this Indian dude, this noodle with wonky teeth and a lazy eye and floppy hair work in this really hard industry,” he had said. A quick recap tells me his hesitation was warranted, after all, in all the movies he had featured till that point of time, and thereafter, Dev Patel was the quintessential ‘Indian dude’ he eventually refers to in his timid speech. But Monkey Man, in a complex way that an average all-Indian person would never fully comprehend, is familiar territory. His territory.

Conceptualised before the term ‘pandemic’ made its debut as a catchword on WhatsApp, and partly executed after it became a deadly reality, Monkey Man, is the revenge saga of a bloodhound—not literally, please—who dreams; daily romanticises, shredding his nemesis to pieces. Nameless throughout the movie, perhaps to emphasise the perpetual invisibility of those living on the fringes of society, Dev Patel’s ‘Bobby’ aka ‘Kid’ has injury-induced hard hands and an even harder determination to avenge the wrongful death of a loved one. His nemesis, on the other hand, is a high-rolling Police Chief, they call him Chief Rana (Sikander Kher), who bows only to the powerful and crushes under his megalomaniac feet those who are anything but.

Speaking of liberties, Monkey Man also tarnishes Mumbai’s otherwise never-sleeping, dreams-fulfilling image to fit the debutant writer-director-actor’s notion of an unjust world. He is a monkey-mask wearing (hence, the name) wrestler who fights and loses matches at night for extra cash, and does the dishes at Queenie’s brothel-esque eatery during the day to get to the man who took away everything that had once made his humble life liveable—a peaceful existence in the forest, a single mother who loved him and told him stories of Lord Hanuman’s valour, now trapped in a loop of constant reminders of a happier time that constituted his reality, through many a flashbacks.

Dev Patel’s nameless hero is savage in revenge and soft in love, when he is found and saved by hijras, he takes it upon himself to save their temple from a self-proclaimed Godman, and when a stray comes licking his toes for some leftovers, he treats it to a ‘4000 rupees a plate’ feast. Dev Patel had clear demarcation in his head: kindness towards the kind, break bones and skulls, pop eyes out of the nasties. ‘Monkey Man’, in that regard, is a man—and a film—that is a creature of extremes. It is this dramatic stance on the whole ‘good-over-evil’ adage that makes it hopelessly desi. And I do not say this as an insult. No.

Although Indians are yet to watch this visually appealing, emotionally stirring Hollywood extravaganza, you wouldn’t be surprised if you find it a tad bit Bollywood-ish when (or if) you do. In fact, by his own admission, Dev Patel was immensely inspired by Shah Rukh Khan’s Koyla (1997): another revenge saga of epic proportions. While drawing comparisons between the two movies, an intimate scene involving the Head of hijras and his character comes to mind, where Dev is asked if he hears voices in his head, to which, he begrudgingly says, “Just one.” His eyes are deep-set, his jaw tightens as he simmers with anger. I kid you not, you can almost hear the song Tanhai Tanhai playing in the background (Koyla reference, if you are still asking).

Underneath the dramatic action sequences, and the slow but carefully crafted build-ups, an absolutely brilliant Dev Patel and his special-mention washboard abs, is a theme which is the sum total of multiple Bollywood films on revenge. Dev Patel in white shirt and that ripped body is also a blissful reminder of Hrithik Roshan’s Agneepath: another genre sweetheart.

Culturally, as a knowledgable politician recently said, “India is non-western, not anti-west.” So, quite understandably, the Western audience is psyched about the grit and gumption with which Dev Patel tracks the rat down and brings him to justice. Of course, the non-verbal music-meets-punchbag metaphorical training session will be touted as a cinematic genius down West. But, as an Indian who knows parental revenge like the back of my head, I say, to Monkey Man, “Hello cow, meet cattle!”