Monkey Man (now streaming on Peacock) is a rather audacious directorial debut from Dev Patel, who you surely know from his rather audacious acting debut in Slumdog Millionaire (not to mention Lion, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and The Green Knight). Heâs also star, co-writer and producer of this brutal action picture and released under Jordan Peeleâs Monkeypaw banner, which has a reputation for producing genre films with a conscience, and snapped up the movie after Netflix balked at its depiction of thorny Indian politics. Which is a way of saying this is smarter than your average action flick; itâs also better directed than your average action flick, perhaps a surprising development considering its from a freshman director.Â
MONKEY MAN: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?
The Gist: The credits list him as Kid (Patel), but other than that, the movie never gives him a name. We meet him in a bareknuckle fighting ring, where he wears a monkey mask and routinely gets his ass walloped so the sleazy promoter (Sharlto Copley) can give him a cut of the dirty betting money. My question: Is he losing on purpose or does he just suck? Iâm pretty sure itâs not the latter, and my theory on the former is, itâs a lesson on how to take beating after beating after beating so he can learn how to keep getting back up again and again and again. Why would he want to do this? Because of the flashbacks, of course â halcyon flashbacks about his dear, lovely mother that get increasingly less halcyon as the movie doles out the tragedy of his past bit by bit. He sees her in the crowd, watching him fight, but I think he sees her everywhere, haunting him, because sheâs no longer on this Earth.
And for that reason, Our Guy has a grand revenge plan. He talks his way into a job washing dishes at a high-end club thatâs secretly a scuzzjoint where guys can get serviced sexually while inhaling piles of white powder. Itâs run by Queenie Kapoor (Ashwini Kalsekar), and one of her clients is police chief Rana Singh (Sikander Kher), whoâs a puppet of ultra-rich quasi-guru Baba Shakti, whoâs in bed with the ultra-right-wing political movement thatâs poised to take power in India. How does all the stuff in that last sentence play into Our Guyâs plight? His revenge target is Rana, whoâs not only connected as hell, but also has a scar above his left ear which seems like a story that needs to be told, but youâll have to hold tight a minute. Bit by bit, remember. Bit by bit.
Our guy pals up with Queenieâs right-hand goofus Alphonso (Pitobash), who has a souped-up auto rickshaw that may come in handy if anyone finds themself in a car chase, NOT THAT IâM SAYING THAT HAPPENS. (Note: It happens.) Dude We Empathize With may be in over his head a bit here, because his first attempt to turn Rana into coffin contents doesnât go well, despite how exciting and rambunctiously violent it is. He ends up in the care of a group of social outcasts, trans folk who are targeted by the conservative politicians and their shitty, shitty cops. And here, Protag Man not only undergoes physical galvanization and a spiritual awakening, but also finds himself fighting for a cause greater than himself â and thatâs something he really needs, because revenge isnât about moving forward, itâs running on the hamster wheel of life, destination: nowhere.
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Patelâs action-director influences are prevalent, especially Quentin Tarantinoâs Kill Bill and Gareth Evansâ The Raid, with hints of Paul Greengrass handheld-camera stuff (think the Bourne movies) and wild, comic Hong Kong-style violence (along the lines of John Wooâs early work, and vintage Jackie Chan pictures). He employs Nicolas Winding Refn-esque brutality and imagery a la Drive and The Neon Demon. Thereâs a distinct Danny Boyle Slumdog hair-shy-of-manic energy to it. And the biggest one is right there in the âmemorable dialogueâ bit below.
Performance Worth Watching: Patel establishes himself as a convincingly intense strong silent type, the latest in a long line of such bold figures with significant screen presence â Gosling, Keanu, Eastwood and various Mad Max series protags (Mel Gibson, Charlize Theron, Anya Taylor-Joy, Tom Hardy) all let their many violent actions speak louder than their very few words.
Memorable Dialogue: A black-marget gun dealer shows Our Man a pistol: âYou like John Wick? Just like the movie â but made in China.â
Sex and Skin: Our Sort Of But Not Quite Antihero blazes through the brothel as various men and women in various states of undress engage in various physical activities.
Our Take: Monkey Man feels like Patel is really pouring everything heâs got into this one, as if heâs not sure heâll ever get another chance to direct his own project. He neednât worry, at least from a creative standpoint. Although his amalgamation of influences renders the film a visual patchwork of sorts â we get hyper-edited bits, lengthy single-take shots, chopsocky choreography, POV perspectives, all the tricks â but thereâs no denying its energy and vivacious spirit. His visual language is cartoonish, frantic and unapologetically ferocious in its portrayal of violence. The film feels truly alive and keeps us in the moment as Our Guy seethes and bones break and blood pools in big, thick coagulating puddles.
There were moments where I was grasping for a little more story â it teases Our Protagâs backstory too much, even though itâs fairly obvious what happened, and is executed with a kind of harsh, slightly overwrought melodrama. But it finds its footing and purpose halfway through, as the narrative conforms to the familiar revenge arc of motive, failure, rebirth and the unleashing of fresh, hardcore brutality during a strong final 30. Monkey Man aims a little higher, too, trafficking in ugly politics and class warfare, which is rudimentary but effective as Our Hero finally, officially earns the title of Our Hero after he surpasses Selfish Mode and fights for himself and the oppressed. Primitive ideas about revenge just donât cut it in 2024, and Patel wisely recognizes that.
Our Call: Do not throw poop at Monkey Man. Dev Patel goes bananas with his behind-the-camera debut, and the result is a bracing and effective action picture. STREAM IT.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
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