Gandhi (1982) - film review

After being subjected to racial intimidation in South Africa, Indian lawyer Mohandas Gandhi organises a non-violent campaign of opposition to the country’s discriminatory laws.  When he succeeds in getting these laws repealed, he returns to his native India, and a hero’s welcome.   Gandhi is persuaded to support the campaign for Indian independence, but he does so on the understanding that there will be no violence on the Indian side.  Despite various attempts by the British to break his will and his influence over the Indian population, Gandhi remains adamant that, sooner or later, his people will be free to govern their own affairs.  But when independence comes, in 1947, India’s problems are far from over.  As Hindus and Muslims come to blows over who will now govern the country, India risks erupting into bloody civil war...

Richard Attenborough does a pretty good job of out-doing David Lean in the sprawling epic stakes with this lavish magnum opus, his ambitious account of the life of his personal hero Mahatma Gandhi.  Attenborough had long hankered after making this film and it took him twenty years to realise his life’s ambition, with financial support from the Indian government.

The film has great strengths, but also many weaknesses.  Certainly, it is a visually stunning piece of cinema, its breathtaking panoramic shots of the Indian landscape imbuing it with a grandeur that befits its subject.  Ben Kingsley was a controversial choice at the time for the part of Gandhi, although his nuanced and engaging performance proved to be the film’s greatest asset.  On the minus side, the film is unevenly paced and feels uncomfortably like what you might end up with if you hacked a ten-part TV drama-documentary into a feature film.  There is little in the way of forward momentum and at times the film just seems to drift, not quiet knowing where it is heading.

This is something of a missed opportunity, since it fails to go much beyond the Gandhi myth and appears to want merely to canonise instead of understanding the man who played such a pivotal part in India gaining independence from the British.  Attenborough is clearly so in awe of Gandhi that you wonder whether he was really the most appropriate person to direct the film.  Interestingly, he had approached the great Indian cineaste Satyajit Ray to make the film, but Ray declined as he was not a great admirer of Gandhi.

The failings in the screenplay are revealed by the way in which the other characters are presented, almost as inconsequential window dressing.  For example, Nehru is reduced to being a bland disciple of Gandhi, and, if you believe the film, he only became President of India because Gandhi wished it.  The film’s superficial characterisation exposes a shocking lack of background research, something that risks distorting the truth merely to reinforce the simplistic view that Gandhi, a living saint, created modern India single-handedly.

Somewhat all too predictably, the film had a massive impact at the Oscars, winning in eight of the eleven categories it was nominated for.  It won the Best Picture and Best Director awards, Ben Kingsley walked away with the Best Actor award, and awards were given for its art direction, screenplay, cinematography and costume design.  The film was broadly well received by the critics when it was first seen, although it is generally somewhat less well-regarded today.

The film’s simplistic depiction of real events and its irksome blockbuster excesses (which include a needlessly star-studded cast) somehow diminish it as a tribute to Gandhi, a man who shunned personal glory and rejected material comfort for most of his life.  It might even be said that the film is a vulgar trivialisation of Gandhi’s achievements, promulgating the popular myth whilst not really coming to grips with the man himself.  The film is impressive as a piece of cinema in its own right, but as a meaningful biopic it is woefully inadequate.

© Derek Adamson 2010

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