Best Picture #: 55
Original Release Date: December 6, 1982
Rating: PG
Runtime: 3 hours, 11 minutes
Director: Richard Attenborough
Quick Impressions:
I’ve been meaning to write this review for over a week, but I’ve been totally consumed with watching the Jeopardy! Tournament of Champions, then writing about my experiences participating in it on the Jeopardy! subReddit. I’m glad these things coincided with my most recent watch and reflections on Gandhi because certain ideas have been foremost in my mind, and this enabled me to pick up on something quite special about Richard Attenborough’s film that I never noticed as a teenager.
I was excited to show my daughter Gandhi. (For one thing, it means we are getting that much closer to Terms of Endearment, which I have always wanted to see, and Amadeus, which I have always loved.) When I was in high school, several scenes of this film made a strong impression on me. That’s probably because we watched it in my junior English class, and my teacher kept pointedly emphasizing moments I should remember. Something she particularly stressed (for the rest of the course) was the Salt March. Then in grad school, I had the opportunity to teach a summer class on The Rhetoric of Civil Disobedience a couple of times.
It was a very educational course for me because as I taught the class, I got to learn about a lot of Civil Rights leaders for the first time. I also learned so much from the students. Once when I was discussing the commonalities between Christianity and Hinduism with a Hindu student (i.e., he was telling me all about his version of “Sunday school,”), I had a mind-blowing revelation.
“When we were little kids, we learned morality as fruits in a basket,” he said. “When you try to do bad deeds, you fill your basket with bad fruit. When you try to do good deeds, you fill your basket with good fruit. At the end of your life, your basket is examined.”
“And you want it to be full of good fruit,” I anticipated.
“No,” he told me. “You want an empty basket.”
My mind expanded. I felt like I’d just been to Hindu “Sunday School” myself. That was the best explanation of Hinduism (conveyed in the simplest terms) I had ever heard in my life. It also revealed a real difference between his religion and mine (though not really. In Christianity, you’re ultimately supposed to emulate Christ, who always does what is good because it is his nature).
Another time I taught the course, I admitted to the students during class that while I found non-violent resistance noble, I would have a hard time not defending someone vulnerable (another woman, a child, an elderly person, perhaps even a vulnerable man) from being violently attacked. Going even further (into my own selfishness), if I were being violently attacked, I might prefer it if someone abandoned his noble abstract principles in order to defend me. Most people were with me on that. Then one female student stayed after class and shared the most incredible story with me. In great detail, she described how her mother had been attacked by a violent stranger, and how she had (through kindness) convinced him not to rape her (by showing him compassion, telling him his life was worth something, that God loved him). She hadn’t shared the story in class, she explained, because she hadn’t wanted to undermine my authority by appearing to question my ideas. While I appreciated the gesture, I wished she had shared the story in class. It was the most incredible story, and, as she explained it, a better example of the effectiveness of Gandhi’s guiding principles than any hypotheticals I’d come up with. (You might wonder why I was qualified to teach this class. You’ll relieved to know that by the end of teaching the course the second time, I did finally learn to pronounce satyagraha.)
So as my daughter and I settled down to begin this movie, I prepared to tell her everything I know about Gandhi. But she surprised me by jumping in and telling me everything she knew about Gandhi! I have to say, I’m impressed (and pleasantly surprised) by what they’re teaching kids in Texas in sixth grade world history these days. She had read several of his writings, broadly understood his ideas and historical significance. She even knew all about the Salt March. Quite honestly, she knew more about Gandhi than I did!
Even though it took us several evenings to get through the whole three-hour viewing experience, we completely enjoyed watching this movie together, and I was absolutely thrilled to hear so many of her (encouraging) views on social justice.
The Good:
I’ve seen Gandhi before (a few times, I believe). But this time I noticed something in it that I had never seen before. This film has a number of strengths, but before I talk about anything else, I want to talk about one particular scene that made a huge impression on me in this viewing.
At several times throughout the film, Gandhi tells his fellow Indians (and the British government ruling over them) that they must soon part ways. It is inevitable. But in the end, he hopes they will part as friends. He says directly to the British officials that he plans to continue non-violent non-cooperation “till you, yourselves see the wisdom of leaving.”
There’s a scene fairly late in the film that consistently made my daughter and me crack up against our will. Logically, there should be nothing funny about the desperation (often ending in extreme violence) of the British government as it struggles to maintain rule in a country that insists on its departure with rapidly escalating fervor. But in the movie, this scene is funny.
At first, I thought, “Is this just happening to us because it’s late? Are we tired and having the wrong reactions to this scene?” Then I realized, “No, the humor here is deliberate.” It has to be.
At one point, describing how bad things have gotten to the others, one British official exclaims in dismay, “They’ve even arrested Nehru’s mother!”
I stifled a laugh and fretted, “I don’t know why that’s funny!” My daughter decided, “It’s his voice or something.” Later she went on, “I don’t know how to explain this to you, but those guys are the pinnacle of British. When you watch this scene, you just know.” She was onto something. Her unguarded, twelve-year-old’s reaction made me realize what was actually happening in the scene.
The tone and pitch of the actor’s voice did sound like something from a British comedy, in which high-brow characters often become absurd and unintentionally and unknowingly comical (from the character’s point of view. The audience is supposed to see the humor). The line itself is even written in a funny way. The information could be relayed to us differently. But instead we’re seeing the British authorities having a collective meltdown.
A moment later, after describing more uncontrolled violence, someone remarks, “The deputy police commissioner lost his head, and…uh…opened fire with a machine gun…”
“Dear me!” I exclaimed in response to his tone of voice (and the massive, polite understatement of “lost his head”). “This scene is killing me!” I cried. “It’s like it was written by Monty Python.” It started to remind me of The Death of Stalin or the scene in The Great Muppet Caper where John Cleese and Joan Sanderson politely and calmly observe at dinner that there’s a pig climbing up the side of their house. (Note that both of my other examples feature members of Monty Python. It’s a pretty recognizable type of British humor.)
The satire is never as in-your-face absurd as in those films. It can’t be. (I mean, the Muppets don’t show up.) It would ruin the dramatic tension simultaneously building in the scene. But it’s certainly pushed as far as it can be. At one point, after describing further violent atrocities, someone apologetically adds, “You can’t expect things like that not to happen.”
Then, displaying the height of British rage at unruly colonials, John Gielgud ever-so-slowly and deliberately stirs his tea.
Now though written by an American screenwriter, Gandhi is directed by Sir Richard Attenborough, features a largely British cast, and is, on the whole, a very British film. (Half the cast of previous Best Picture winner Chariots of Fire show up in supporting roles!)
The comedy injected into this scene intentionally (but gently) makes the British look ridiculous. It’s like Attenborough is acknowledging, “Yes, you were right, Gandhi. Our continued rule of India was becoming untenable. We didn’t know what we were doing. We couldn’t handle it. You got us. But in the end, we parted as friends, so we can all joke about this together now.”
This is so deftly done that the scene never loses its dramatic tension. John Gielgud makes the whole thing work by so pointedly not laughing. His character is quietly enraged, very, very angry and frustrated. Maybe the British (and the English-speaking world) can heartily laugh at themselves and their own past mistakes, but back in the 1940s, Lord Irwin does not see any humor in the situation and does not appreciate the fact that unruly colonials are making a fool of him.
Gandhi, of course, does many things well, but the world at large is probably already aware of most of them, and that particular scene was something I had never noticed before, so I’m focusing on that pretty much exclusively. Other strengths of Gandhi are its cinematography (I wish I could see it on the big screen!) and its performances, especially the deservedly Oscar winning lead performance of Ben Kingsley. (Feel free to debate if it was appropriate to darken his skin, or if he’s Indian enough to play the role. I can never give you a satisfactory answer to those questions. I lack the expertise. But as someone who studied Gandhi’s philosophies just a tiny little bit, I do think Kingsley’s performance is good.)
The film is also well written and well crafted in that it is essentially a showcase allowing Gandhi to dramatize his life philosophies. It’s great for classroom use. Anyone who has read Gandhi’s writings or speeches will recognize famous quotations and demonstrations they’re already familiar with popping up everywhere. As my daughter and I watched, we realized that Gandhi’s stated and lived ideals are the backbone of the story being told on the screen.
Best Scene Visually:
I love the funeral scenes that bookend the movie. For one thing, it’s pretty impossible to miss the idea that this entire film is a eulogy for Gandhi. (That’s why when people criticize it for being almost a hagiography, I think, “But isn’t that its stated purpose?”)
Also the opening funeral procession reminded me of Padmé’s funeral in Revenge of the Sith, and made me pointedly aware of how much this film influenced both George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. At several moments throughout this film, I thought of specific moments from Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies. There are prominent visual echoes. Even the presence of Roshan Seth as Nehru makes me think of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
The first time I watched Gandhi (in high school), the visual that stuck in my mind was the teeming mass of people on top of the train. I liked that moment because the outsider doesn’t instinctively know to duck for the tunnel and also because we get the great joke about the Christian who drinks blood. (At the time, I thought that made a great point. I knew a lot of fellow Christians who thought Hinduism and Indian culture in general were exotic, scary, strange things. But every religion or culture can be made to sound exotic, scary, and strange when it’s cast as the mysterious Other.)
Best Scene When I Was a Teenager:
Who can resist the scene when Gandhi tells the man who has committed murder that he knows a way out of Hell? It’s such an inspiring, impressive piece of wisdom. Plus it sounds so simple, but to live that way would be borderline impossible. It reminds me of the Judgment of Solomon, one of the first Bible stories to make a huge impression on me. (My sister had just been born when I first remember hearing that story. I was in kindergarten. I thought, “That’s right! Babies are so precious! The baby’s real mother would want to protect her child no matter what! How did Solomon know?” I was in awe of his wisdom!)
Now I do recall people who went to church with me being less impressed with what Gandhi advises here. Someone said, “But you can see here that his religion really means nothing to him.” And I thought sarcastically, “You’re right! Instead just tell the guy to keep going around murdering everyone he gets mad at because he’s already damned anyway. That’s great advice.” But I didn’t say anything, fortunately, because church started. Church starting saved teenaged me from making so many horrific social blunders!
Best Action Sequence/Best Scene:
By far the most powerful moments in Gandhi are the massacre scene followed by the tribunal reviewing what happened there just before Intermission. In fact, watching this time, I thought, “Gandhi needs one more Oscar, for most effective timing of an intermission.”
We see the violence, the calculated violence of the military force. We see the helplessness of the unexpecting crowd. And then we see the officer in charge unabashedly admitting what he has done. He doesn’t even scramble to lie to salvage his career. He sees nothing wrong with his actions. He’s proud of the evil he’s done. Even the members of the British court listening to his testimony are visibly horrified.
Besides being a visible reminder that violence is not the answer, and attempting to excuse the British government from what certain lunatics claiming to represent it did, and making a culturally relevant point that led my daughter to make certain parallels to events that have happened more recently in our own country, this scene reminds us that some people espouse racist principles not merely for their convenience but because they believe they are correct. (I remember reading a book by Frantz Fanon as research for a novel I was writing and realizing that in prior decades, some people were racist not merely to press their advantage but because they truly believed that white Caucasians are actually, demonstrably, scientifically superior to other races. That realization was so jarring, so disturbing.) This scene is jarring and disturbing, too.
The Negatives:
I remember hearing three big criticisms about Gandhi from people I have talked to who dislike the film.
1.) Ben Kinglsey is not Indian, and it is a form of blackface to darken his skin for the role.
2.) This film is not presenting objective history. Gandhi did not liberate India single-handedly through non-violent means. A lot of fighting was involved, and Gandhi didn’t actually do that much.
3.) From a Christian point of view, Gandhi’s ideas are insulting and wrong. He speaks for all religions and doesn’t believe any of them. His apparent ecumenicism is wishy-washy and dangerous.
So I’ll address these point by point. As for the first point, that’s where I can offer the weakest defense. Kingsley’s birth name was Krishna Bhanji, and on his father’s side, he’s of Indian descent (though his mother is English). In the 1980s, there were slightly different standards on the kinds of roles people had a right to play. (And in 1961, Rita Moreno, who is actually Puerto Rican, was painted a darker shade to match Natalie Wood whose skin had to be darkened for her role in West Side Story.) Is that okay? Probably not, but I don’t think it’s a reason not to watch a film that already exists.
As for the second point, I don’t think the film is even attempting to be an objective history of the liberation of India. It begins and ends with a beautiful procession celebrating Gandhi’s funeral. We are basically watching a three-hour-eleven-minute eulogy of a great soul. (The movie is called Gandhi not An Objective History of the Liberation of India.) If you don’t want to watch a film celebrating Gandhi, then you should probably just watch a different movie. I agree, this one is pretty intent on making him look fantastic, but when it presents his own recorded words and actions, he does come away looking pretty good. And the whole world is still talking about him.
And the third point. When I was in high school, even my own parents found Gandhi’s embrace of all religions problematic. And I know a lot of Christians who strongly argue that moral relativism is a slippery slope and extremely dangerous. It makes objective truth unknowable, and eventually we all just defend doing whatever we want and descend into chaos. But all Gandhi wanted was for people to work together to govern themselves without violence or degradation toward anyone. I can’t speak for people of other religions. I’m a Christian, and so I naturally do privilege Christianity (to a degree), but I do not remember Jesus ever saying, “Go ye into all the world and bash Gandhi.”
I remember talking with a friend about the Catholic idea (which comes from Jesus himself) that no man comes to the Father except through the Son (Jesus). She’s a nun now and one of the wisest people I know. She pointed out, “Yes, but he never said how many ways people can come to him.” That’s quite a loophole when you think about it. If the Son is eternal, always with the Father, who knows how people may eventually come to him and through what channels (i.e. even other religions and philosophies). If you’re not a Christian and find that a bit insulting (as you probably should), all I can say is, “I’m sorry. Maybe you’re right.” I’m only human. I don’t know! All I know is that the God I serve would want us to seek and elevate the good in other people and try to sow peace instead of discord on the Earth. I think most people of faith (and in that I conclude principled atheists) want to do good things and hope that people on Earth can work together for good wherever possible. My daughter found the way that Gandhi “always stresses commonality” beautiful and “inspiring,” and I agree. If you don’t like that message, then this probably isn’t the movie for you because director Richard Attenborough clearly wants to promote and elevate that aspect of Gandhi’s teachings in this film. Also, remember, you don’t have to admire every single aspect of a person to appreciate a well made film about them.
Overall:
I could probably write twenty more pages about this movie and about Gandhi himself, but I have to go make tacos, put away the laundry, and finalize some trivia questions I’m writing before tonight. If you’re curious about this film, I suggest that you watch it. My daughter says, “It’s nice to see a movie about the power of goodness for a change!” I agree.