Sardar Udham (2021)

(Amazon Streaming, November 2022) One of the things that happens when former out-groups seize the means of artistic production is that old stories are re-examined from new perspectives. Repressed rage comes out; staid viewpoints are questioned; opposite excesses are encouraged; and eventually things return to a better equilibrium. But we’re not there yet—Western cinema is still killing off male characters with a gleeful spirit of retribution that would be unbearably misogynistic if it was gender-flipped (the point being that it’s not), while former colonies are turning the tables on their oppressors. It’s in that spirit that Indian-Hindi film Sardar Udham goes out of its way to praise and explain the life and death of Udham Singh, who assassinated former Lieutenant Governor of Punjab Michael O’Dwyer in 1940 to avenge a 1919 massacre. Everything is a matter of perspective, and the film is carefully built to build outrage—first portraying the assassination, then through a complex series of flashbacks, work its way to the brutal 1919 blood bath (ordered by O’Dwyer) to justify his assassination—and then show the assassination again for good measure and retribution. Further driving the colonial revenge fantasy is the description of the treatment received by the assassin in the following months of his trial, detention and execution. Let’s be honest: there is something fascinating in seeing a slick, well-produced film that is all about taking down a British villain. At the same time, though, the idea of a film glorifying (and that’s not too hyperbolic a word) an assassin doesn’t quite sit well with me. There’s something intensely sadistic as well in the way the film goes full-carnage mode to depict the 1919 massacre, blowing off limbs and exploding heads of women and children as if it had to work overtime to justify a further cycle of violence. While the film keeps a certain tonal control over its running time, the 162 minutes are far too long for the story being told—Sardar Udham loses itself in tangents that obscure its message and dilute its impact. Still, as far as Indian films go, it’s a slick package—great cinematography and a powerful central performance by Vicky Kaushal do much to make the film a socially conscious drama that illustrates history. Still (and this is going to be increasingly normal in a multipolar world of conflicting ideologies), I can admire the intention without being all that fond of the gory vengeful results.