Based on Aravind Adiga’s 2008 novel of the same name, The White Tiger follows Balram Halwai (Adarsh Gourav), a man who grew up in an impoverished village with bigger ambitions. Those ambitions become more concrete when he ends up as a driver under Stork (Mahesh Manjrekar), a powerful landlord. As he proves himself to be a reliable servant for his masters, he soon realizes that the system sees him and his ilk as disposable, and in order to truly rise from his humble beginnings, he’ll need to incorporate the same cut-throat techniques in order to become a new kind of master.
The film is told to us like a fable, or in a strange way, a cautionary tale. It is full of narration from its lead, talking about the lessons he learns and the motives that pushed him to make the decisions he ends up making. There is a framing device that involves him writing a letter to the Chinese Premier, a choice that probably felt more natural in the original novel than it does here on screen. Its scope however is big, capturing the details of Balram’s life from his home village to working with Stork’s son Ashok (Rajkummar Rao) and his wife Pinky (Priyanka Chopra-Jonas).
The film is written and directed by Ramin Bahrani, a filmmaker who has often made intimate films with a lot on their mind, especially when it comes to the struggles faced by those who are marginalized and/or destitute. In what might be his most ambitious film to date, The White Tiger touches on the caste system, religious discrimination, India’s economic divide, and the way countless poor people have to stab each other in the back just to get menial positions that put them in proximity to wealth, and without most of the benefits, like in one scene where Balram outs a senior driver as Muslim, leading to his firing.
Adarsh Gourav is not the biggest name in the film, having only been in a handful of films and TV shows. This is his first big lead performance, and he’s quite a find from the filmmakers, and he works incredibly well when he’s bouncing off industry veterans like Priyanka Chopra-Jonas and Rajkummar Rao, both of whom are good as the supposedly “nice” rich people who are friendly with Balram up to a point, especially Rao. Gourav has to carry it though, and he does it well. There’s a determination in every move he makes, and he conveys so much with his eyes. Even when you don’t know what he’s thinking, you know he has something up his sleeve.
Unfortunately, what the film really lacks is bite and a sense of energy with its filmmaking and storytelling. While its patience, which has been a great asset in Bahrani’s filmography, can bring on some effective moments, many sequences feel unnecessarily relaxed, especially as it reaches progressively darker points in Balram’s story. And with the near constant narration, it often feels like an audiobook, explaining every point and emotional beat that would have probably been more powerful with silence.
The White Tiger is a film I liked, but I wished I loved it. Its ruminations of socio-economic inequality and the nature of privilege are compelling in the moment, but don’t quite have the impact that it could have, especially compared to films that have explored similar themes like Parasite. It’s amusing how it often feels like a thematic rebuttal to Slumdog Millionaire, which is referenced at one point, but the biggest irony is that despite that film’s western gaze and questionable messaging made for a more engaging and entertaining film as a whole. It’s not too hard to see how the story probably worked better as a novel, and while some moments showed that kind of spark and liveliness, most of its potential is left untapped.
The White Tiger is currently out in select theaters, and will be released on Netflix on January 22nd.