Dev Patel’s Action Movie Drew Controversy Even Before It Premiered. It’s Easy to See Why.

For those raised Hindu and steeped in all the associated lore from youth, the opening scenes of Dev Patel’s directorial debut, the action thriller Monkey Man, might invoke some nostalgia: A child is sitting with his mother as she reads to him from an illustrated book, The Mighty Hanuman, and delves into the simian deity’s famed origin story. As told by the epic Ramayana, the mischievous young Hanuman—considered, in some traditions, to be the anthropomorphic avatar of the destroyer god Shiva—caught an early-morning sunrise and, being rather hungry, mistook the sun for a mango and jumped up to try to eat it. Indra, the king of the gods, stepped in by striking and killing Hanuman with a lightning bolt. Realizing their mistake, the gods resuscitated Hanuman and blessed him with mighty powers—in effect turning him into a superpowered being. A godly monkey-man, if you will, able to dole out both knockout punches and pranks.

Such storybooks, which present the legends of Hinduism to kids with awe-inspiring illustrations and bold interpretations of ancient Sanskrit texts, are a staple in the households of the Hindu diaspora. It’s clear that Patel, a British Hindu raised by Gujarati migrants, was inspired by these adapted tales of the gods’ human incarnations, their otherworldly strengths, and their righteous struggles against evil. For Patel’s most personal work yet—he directed, co-wrote, co-produced, and starred in Monkey Man, which came out in theaters Friday—Hanuman is the core religious symbol driving the story, in which the protagonist takes literal strength from the ape-god to wreak vengeance on the corrupt, venal forces that ransacked his forest community and murdered his mother. But Hanuman is far from the only representative of Hinduism at the core of Monkey Man, and Patel’s thrilling, if uneven, feature marks a fascinating, complicated, yet ultimately affirmative and morally forceful place in the religion’s cultural canon. At a time when pernicious iterations of Hindu nationalism, or Hindutva, are gaining a global foothold both culturally and politically, Monkey Man is a combative gesture toward a different vision.

Not that it would seem so at first. Back in January, film critic Jordan Ruimy reported that, according to an “in-the-know source,” Monkey Man, originally set for distribution by Netflix, was dropped by the streamer because “the portrayal of a fictional right-wing Hindu Nationalist character … worried Netflix about their future dealings in India.” The movie was then picked up by Jordan Peele’s Monkeypaw Productions, in partnership with Universal Pictures, although both parties reportedly “suggested possible editing changes and delayed the release until what they thought would be the right date.” One such change—as pointed out on X by union organizer Atulya Dora-Laskey—appeared in a new version of the trailer, which changed the color of the villainous political party from saffron, the adopted color of the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party led by Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi. The updated trailer showed this fictional “Sovereign Party” adopting a solid red color normally affiliated with India’s Marxist Communist Party, which currently rules the state of Kerala (and whose chief minister and general electorate are rather antagonistic toward Modi).

Such preemptive self-censorship is sadly unsurprising, given studios’ dependence on international audiences, India’s significant moviegoing population, and entertainment executives’ general willingness to buckle in the face of governmental threats from autocracies like China. It wouldn’t even be the first time an international production was adjusted to placate Indian rulers: In 2021, Netflix dropped famed director Anurag Kashyap’s planned adaptation of the book Maximum City, a critical look at Hindu-nationalist violence in Mumbai. Other such muzzled projects, as reported by the Washington Post, include political satires made under the aegis of Prime Video, as well as a Netflix documentary about India’s 1970s-era Emergency, a period of government tyranny that presaged modern India’s democratic crises. It would seem that Monkey Man was one of Netflix’s “quietly abandoned and withheld” properties, as characterized by the Post, and that Peele’s production company likely took steps to minimize further potential for backlash.

We don’t know what other edits were made from the original cut, which was completed in 2021, and I suspect we aren’t going to get much transparency from Patel, Peele, or anyone else involved. Universal even seems unsure whether Monkey Man will hit Indian theaters on the planned April 19 release (incidentally, the start date for India’s much-anticipated general elections). There do seem to be some surface-level tells as to the production’s general caution: Monkey Man’s setting is a fictional city named Yatana (the Hindi word for torment), although it bears a striking resemblance to real-life Mumbai. The movie includes real news footage from the street-level protests and pogroms of the Modi era—albeit sans specifics, so an unknowing non-Indian viewer could be pardoned for missing it. There is, of course, the saffron-to-red imprint, as well as vaguely molded story parallels with the religious violence, business-dealing corruption, and land exploitation that suffuses institutionalized Hindutva as well as Indian politics writ large. (See also: the long, mutually beneficial bromance between Modi and multibillionaire industrialist Gautam Adani.) On the PR side of things, Patel has talked up the film’s empowering transgender representation, while otherwise presenting Monkey Man in simple class-war terms not too dissimilar to those of his breakout, Slumdog Millionaire: “This movie is about the marginalized—the underdogs—all lifting each other up to achieve a justice that was only meant for the privileged,” he wrote in a Reddit “Ask Me Anything” Q&A promoting the film. Indian writers have emphasized the Hinduism and Hanuman of it all while noting opaquely that the film addresses issues of caste and class.

But if I had fears that Monkey Man would be some hazy feature dumbed down to appease the Indian government, I can now report that, having seen the film, it’s hardly so. Rather, it’s a messy, gory, yet compelling story that manages to employ various pillars of Indian society in an interesting, if sometimes confused, manner. (I say this as someone who was raised Hindu and has taken a lot of shit for pointing out the very real Hindutva symbology of the beloved blockbuster RRR.)

As established, Patel’s hero, Kid, is a vengeful young lad ready to take down the system that killed his mother and ruined his life. Flashback sequences dotted throughout the movie piece together what happened: During a crackdown on the residents of his childhood forest dwelling, local police kill and displace residents so that the land can be developed for a religious construction. Police commissioner Rana Singh (Sikander Kher) personally led the surge—and killed Kid’s mother. In the present day, Singh still leads the city police and is a patron of the famed spiritual leader Baba Shakti (longtime Indian actor Makarand Deshpande, in his English-language debut), who’s supporting a Sovereign Party candidate’s run for office and has come under some criticism for his jingoistic rhetoric, as well as his forced expulsion of people in a rural locale in order to build a Hindu commune. Kid, meanwhile, earns his keep by participating in underground hand-to-hand combat, sporting a signature monkey mask as he trains to avenge his mother. Kid manages to get to Singh by finding employment at a restaurant with a hidden harem, but botches an attempted attack and is shot by police. A temple-residing community of transgender Indians (or hijra) led by Alpha (Bollywood action veteran Vipin Sharma) heals Kid, and they plan another offense on Shakti and Singh in time for Diwali and the local elections, in which the Sovereign Party triumphs. Nevertheless, Kid and Co. eventually succeed in reaching the villains once more, and one final battle ensues.

Whatever the changes made to this final cut, the intended real-life counterparts are hardly mistakable. As Siddhant Adlakha noted at IGN, Baba Shakti appears to be a clear stand-in for Yogi Adityanath, the ultra-right-wing Uttar Pradesh chief minister notorious for his Islamophobic speechifying, calls for population control, and weaponization of cops against protesters and journalists. The events of Kid’s childhood bear resemblances to the many instances of Hindu nationalist vigilantes entering myriad villages and tribal collectives, often by force, to terrorize residents and “Hinduize” the populations. (Of course, Kid’s community is already Hindu—but don’t forget, there are various sects within the religion, as well as pronounced conflicts spurred by holy leaders of high castes who bear contempt for Hindus of lower castes, such as Kid and his mother.) And the chant-heavy, bloodthirsty rallies that Baba Shakti commands are hardly distinguishable from Indian political rallies these days. To have a big-budget film that sets up such analogues, casts a devoted acolyte of a major Hindu god to fight them aggressively, and even employs poor hijra characters for a moral cause (at a time when Hindu nationalists have attempted to roll back Indian progress on LGBTQ+ rights) carries no small significance.

Notably, the representations of Hinduism encompass such a wide range—from Patel’s Hanuman tributes, to the depictions of festivals that portray tales from the Ramayana via puppet, to Baba Shakti’s clear Brahmin signifiers—that it seems apparent Patel is taking religious fundamentalism as a whole to task. And there are even smaller allusions to the most disturbing impacts of Hindutva: The audience for Kid’s first fight in the movie loudly boos the mention of Christians, a probable reference to the shocking violence that Hindu mobs have afflicted on Indian Christians. (But they are very OK with a mention of saffron, edited flag colors aside.)

If Monkey Man does stumble somewhere, it may be that it’s ultimately too jam-packed, too incoherent, too loud, and too underdeveloped a final product to cast these bold messages clearly and more effectively. The fights are certainly a lot of fun, inspired as they are by classic predecessors in action cinema from Japan and South Korea. But overall, the film suffers from a preponderance of characters we don’t get to know well, an overstylization of scene transitions and unevenly timed sequences that makes for a headache, and a not-so-fully-fledged connection forged between all the villainous elements at play here. A knowledgeable viewer can fill in the blanks on the types of ties between businessmen, police, politicians, spiritual advisers, and lower-caste persecution portrayed in Monkey Man. Another viewer may find it all a little obscure.

Still, the saga that Patel constructs in Monkey Man—an underdog slugfest where a poorer, lower-caste, unjustly displaced village boy weaponizes his faith in favor of justice for himself and others—is a welcome contrast to an Indian cinematic scene that, under Modi, has been reduced to merely parroting lazy bigotry and flashy patriotism. Patel may not say as much out loud, either in the film or to the press. But I think he’s landed his point with a punch.