I have a problem with revenge movies – the problem is that I like them.
I feel a bit guilty about that. I don’t believe getting even solves our problems. My faith tradition says not to repay evil with evil but to love and forgive our enemies. When my kids are wronged, I have to remind them to be the bigger person and not lash out in anger.
But man, when revenge is dished out on the screen, I can’t help but cheer. A good “revenge-o-matic,” as Quentin Tarantino calls them, taps into that part of me that wants to pray imprecatory prayers for justice to be done and for God to smash the teeth of the wicked. And on the big screen, that justice is often meted out by the aggrieved or people who have been trampled over by the powerful. Is this wrong or hypocritical of me? Perhaps. But Roger Ebert regularly quoted film critic Robert Warshow’s maxim "A man goes to the movies. The critic must be honest enough to admit that he is that man." And I am a man who tends to dig revenge flicks.
Of course, not every revenge movie is equal. There are some that use the excuse of getting even as a way to revel in gruesome, wanton violence and ignore the cry for justice that fuels it or the cost that vengeance takes on the revenge-seeker. There’s a whole history of Death Wish sequels and rip-offs that use the stories only to instill fear of the other and indulge their hateful sensibilities. But the best are fueled by righteous fury and soulful enough to realize that even the most justified vengeance requires digging two graves.
Dev Patel’s Monkey Man is one of the best revenge movies in a long time. A grimy and brutal piece of pulp, it’s an ultraviolent scream against long histories of corruption, systemic abuse and exploitation. It’s not afraid to be ugly or rough; the sweat and blood nearly drip off the screen. And yet, it’s also imbued with a thoughtfulness that sets it apart from other movies of its type. It’s an announcement that while Patel is a fascinating screen presence, he’s also a force to be reckoned with behind the camera.
Patel wrote and directed Monkey Man and stars as Kid, an anonymous man toiling away in the slums of Mumbai (he also goes by the name of Bobby, which he steals from a bleach container). When he was younger, Kid lived in the forest with his mother, only to lose her when a guru/political leader directs the army to burn down the village. Kid, now an adult, has his mind set on revenge and takes on menial positions at a local club catering to the criminal elite, hoping to work his way up into the presence of the chief who killed his mom. In his off time, Kid dons a monkey mask and enters a boxing ring, taking the fall every night for an over-the-top fight promoter (Sharlto Copley).
Patel eschews much overt exposition, choosing to employ largely wordless flashbacks to sketch out Kid’s story and let us observe him at work. Much of the film’s first half is dedicated to watching him methodically work his way up the ladder and prepare to confront his target. It’s smart and engaging storytelling; I particularly like the detail of Kid training a stray dog to bring him a gun. Kid is not a nuanced, fleshed-out character; he’s a stand-in for the many suffering in India under the boot of caste systems, corruption and extreme disparity. As Patel flashes back on the horrible atrocities Kid suffered as well as the exploitation those on society’s lower rungs endure at the hands of the powerful, the anger and cry for justice thrums through the screen like the ‘80s pop tunes the criminals blast in the club. Even if the specifics of who the villains are and the attempts to tie it into a larger political story are sometimes a bit muddled, there’s a primal fury that boils underneath the surface, begging to be released. And when it is, it’s brutal, ugly and thrilling.
Many are already comparing Monkey Man to the John Wick franchise; the movie itself name checks the Keanu Reeves series. And on the surface, that makes sense. Patel is a one-man wrecking crew throughout much of the film and spends a good deal of time in neon-lit clubs, engaging in gunfights and martial arts while wearing a snazzy suit. But the John Wick movies take place in a fantasy world where nearly everyone is a hitman and the fights, while brutal, are also slick and choreographed, having more in common with musicals than your average shoot-’em-up.
What Monkey Man most reminds me of instead is Gareth Evans’ The Raid franchise and Indonesia’s pencak silat movies. The action is chaotic, frantic and gruesome, with fighters suffering bloody injuries and grotesque deaths from fists, feet, knives and guns. There’s a sweaty desperation to Monkey Man’s action sequences, the first of which culminates in a chaotic, violent and sometimes darkly funny chase through a Mumbai brothel. The second is a climactic, Raid-esque siege on a multi-story nightclub. As an actor, Patel shows an energy and ferocity he hasn’t had the opportunity to previously display; he holds his own as an action star. As a director, he understands that each sequence must also tell a story in itself. In the film’s first extended fight scene, he uses shaky, frenetic quick shots, capturing Kid’s panic and rage. In the third act, when Kid is more in control of his body and mind, the camera plants itself and the action is presented in longer takes to showcase Patel’s action chops. It’s visceral, exhilarating action filmmaking, and the movie’s climactic 20 minutes are some of the most bone-shaking we’ve had in a major studio film.
But there’s also a thoughtful spirituality that makes Monkey Man unique from other revenge fantasies. Patel weaves in Hindu legend and beliefs throughout the story. The film’s first scene is a flashback to Kid and his mother in the forest, where she reads him the story of Hanuman, a Hindu deity who was a monkey who helped fight against wicked gods. In the film’s back half, Kid experience a spiritual, almost psychedelic, awakening in the forest that helps him transcend his suffering and take on a new mantle as a protector of the people.
It’s here that the film aspires to be a more soulful revenge story, although sometimes the sheer brutality of the fights work against it. Early on, in those shaky, clumsy brawls, Kid is fueled only by rage and guilt, fighting as much to punish himself as to avenge his mother’s death. Halfway through, the movie stops to breathe as the battered Kid is taken in by a community living in a temple. In these scenes, Patel slows down the pacing and lets the film linger on the ancient ruins and candlelit chapels inside massive root systems. He makes a training montage something charismatic and communal.
These sequences might seem out of place in such a brutal, bleak movie, but I appreciated the respite from the neon-drenched sleekness of downtown Mumbai. It’s in these moments that Patel attempts to elevate the story, bringing Kid’s quest from the personal to something more mythic. I don’t know that he completely sells it – the way the commune residents rise up in the third act seems a bit out of the blue and silly – but it’s interesting to see the genre reach for something more thoughtful than we often get.
Monkey Man could probably benefit from an added half hour or so to strengthen the bond Kid builds with the commune residents, beef up the final fight sequence and properly wrap up some of its side characters’ stories; I never quite bought the bond Kid forms with a woman working as the villains’ escort, and there’s a local goon Kid befriends who is dropped completely from the third act. More time in the boxing ring might be fun too, just because it’s a joy to watch Copley play such an over-the-top, slimy character. But when it works, it’s a blistering and bruising actioner that aspires to something more soulful and sometimes even reaches it. It’s a great directorial debut for Patel; I can’t wait to see what he unleashes next.