Monkey Man (Dev Patel)

Monkey Man by Dev Patel

I find it hard to watch films or review them when they are out for a while. Dev was press offensive on every show, channel four, the one show, and anything he could when it came out. He was a great young man, as one should be when you are the lead and the director. He gave a lot of credit to Jordan Peele for helping gain more traction since it was made and released. I would have seen it sooner, but it came down to the issues that plagued me when I saw Ali and Amy. Getting a time, I could see it. Sigh. But the one line I constantly thought of in his press is he wanted to make the film 14-year-old he wanted to see. And, of course, I think of my 14-year-old nephew who, given the choice of any pseudonym in my writing, went with this one.

Spiderman: India!…and I have to write the exclamation mark, or I’m a racist.

It’s a small film with every penny rinsed to the smallest rupee. I think My nephew would love it, but given how I cringed, squirmed, and, got to admit, love shocked the violence in it, I do not know how good his sneak skills will be. On one level, this film is a basic revenge thriller with every grindhouse trope you could want. I can see the movie itself being called “Dev Wish; Super Simian Man”, as Dev puts in everything you want from a man on a mission.

But he paces it so well. The first half is all the show, not tell. The reality many miss about diaspora is that it’s not some wheeler-dealers; it’s everyone either a dealer or a dead—end of. There are merely gradients at how good you are at it. It’s a masterclass of show, not tell. No exposition; if you know what this life is, leave the room. It’s simple enough.

But in the second hour, we have year one, the rehabilitation and reincarnation in a quasi-mystical way that, frankly, Hindu mythology can do without being supernatural. This is not irradiated super monkey blood from Sherlock Holmes. This vocation and idealism are taken to an apex of push-ups and pilates with a bit of pistol shooting.

But it’s not in the story; that’s the plot, the vehicle, the engine. I’m coy when it comes to Indian politics; I’ve been shot down to know my role on several occasions outside my family for my mixed, not national, view. But at the same time, my family. Initially, we Dev, before we moved and became Deb’s, were inter-married Muslims and Hindus, right down to my nephew, I think of when watching this. I was told in the multiverse of the many stories that elapse and contradict each other within my family. My great-grandfather in Calcutta ran a burlesque venue in the early 1900s. He lost all his money …why…because he paid the women.

So to see Dev take on the fact that sectarianism is killing progress and hamstringing it even further into an elite within India, that patriarchy is alive and calling the arranged marriage shots within India, when he arguably wants his film to get the full backing and distribution in the country its located is utterly ballsy in a way The kid could never accomplish.

The film is an absolute thrill ride as a genre piece, an accomplishment as an independent piece. The affective idealism as a political piece is a slight jab in Patel’s strengthening arsenal. I can’t wait to see what he does next.

And I’ll be taking Spider-Man: India! And his sister Sleepy Owl: One, two, three, I will eat you, in a big coat, pretending they are one adult. To see it.