by Shekinah Louis, resident writer at 3shotcine
In the cinematic era post-Bong Joon-ho's Parasite and even the South Korean hit series Squid Game, it seems that Asian filmmaking in the 21st century has found its niche in the controversial critique of classism, capitalism, and the act of wealth hoarding. Monkey Man, produced by Dev Patel in early 2024, is no different. From scenes of stolen bikes riding into the night to mind-blowing symbolism of elevators ascending into elitism, let's look at a few examples of how Monkey Man captivates its audience through the use of scenes that are easily overlooked and yet – paint us a picture of the film's message in its entirety.
During my first watch, one of the scenes – though subtle enough to go unnoticed should the watcher even blink – immediately caught my attention. The movie's protagonist, Kid, was speeding through the night on a bike he had stolen from a parked convoy of expensive vehicles. As he zoomed the streets, it was clear this was not your average, luxurious high-speed chase scene. The newspapers on the ground that passed quickly beside him fluttered in the moonlight, and laying upon it were children in worn-out and soiled clothes – fast asleep. The kids seemed almost immune to the sounds of the roaring motors beside them, even as the papers beneath them were rattled so violently by the wind of the passing vehicle. Although this was a magnificent way of capturing the happenings that one might not think about during a fast-paced scene, it was heartbreaking to see its urgent reference to something bigger; that children who are dealt with the harsher hand of capitalism are often immune to its cruelty. And the viewer is, likewise, immune to noticing it.
A recurring theme throughout the movie is Kid moving up to different levels within Kings, the social club-disguised-brothel, where he started working as a kitchen helper. As Kid gets promoted, he moves up to a floor of a different level of elites. The more trusted he becomes, the "higher up" he goes. Each floor is more exclusive and out-of-bounds than the last, with the top-most floor including political candidates. This building was arranged to display what seemed to be a capitalist food chain, in which even the country's rich folk are segregated between the rich and the richest. Even through imagery like this, it exemplifies the never-ending competition of wealth exclusivity between more-than well-off people. The film aptly points out the superiority complex that comes hand in hand with hoarding wealth.
One of the most impactful sequences for me was the film's exploration of the Hijras, a transgender community in India. While the movie mainly focuses on Kid and his livelihood, it effectively portrays the challenges faced at large by marginalized communities due to capitalist mechanisms. The Hijras were shown to have been cast away into the woods, mirroring the way they have long been pushed into hidden corners despite South Asia's pre-colonial history of transgender and queer acceptance. Although transgender communities such as the Hijras have existed in Indian society for centuries, they are ostracised in the present day, with several being denied necessities and living in economic isolation. With capitalism encouraging the exclusion of people who do not fit within the bounds of mainstream ideals, LGBTQ+ communities face the risk of being further denied the right to live freely among the rest of society.
Monkey Man does a remarkable job at placing the underdogs front and center. While I had only watched the film once, I can only imagine the wealth of references that I would have been able to catch on to during a second watch — much less a person with a far more profound knowledge of India's political history. It surprises no one that a Patel and Peele-produced film would accurately capture the nuances of a topic as complex as the ones discussed in Monkey Man. Nonetheless, it is still impressive to bring to light a vast majority of India's issues circling elitism and capitalism within a single film — and execute it as marvelously as this.
An analysis essay by Shekinah Louis, resident writer at 3shotcine.
Shekinah is a 22-year old creator and poet, who strongly holds to the belief that there is no such thing as a bad film. If you've ever come across a "terrible" movie that has made you laugh — it has fulfilled its purpose! Following a passion that bloomed during her days at The Actors Studio by klpac, as well as the opportunity of being cast as an extra in a local Netflix movie (a fact Shekinah will announce to you within minutes of meeting her), she is confident that some of our greatest films are the ones forged on local soil.
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