MEDIA ARTS: Exoticism in The Tiger of Eschnapur (1959) and Eat, Pray, Love (2010)
By Nikko Turner
Exotic films are often harshly criticised for being politically incorrect. Choose TWO of the following films and consider which particular aspects of their exoticism are ‘non-pc’: The Tiger of Eschnapur, Eat Pray Love and Slumdog Millionaire.
Political correctness is a complex and delicate concept, and can be difficult to define or identify, especially in the context of film. Film as a medium is versatile and universal, allowing for efficient communication of ideologies, concepts and values. Exotic films in particular are often criticised for being ‘non-pc’ (or politically incorrect) for their communication of offensive or sensitive ideologies, whether this be explicit, implicit, conscious or unintentional. Fritz Lang’s 1959 The Tiger of Eschnapur (Tiger) and Ryan Murphy’s 2010 Eat, Pray, Love have both been criticised by their respective audiences for being ‘non-pc’. The following discussion will explore the aspects of exoticism that have deemed these films politically incorrect, with particular attention to colonial fantasy and orientalism.
The term ‘political correctness’ is somewhat vague in its definition, more so in regards to the limitations of the term and what is and isn’t considered ‘pc’. In its simplest form, it can be defined as “the act of avoiding language and actions that could be offensive to others, especially those relating to sex, gender, and race,” (Cambridge Dictionary, n.d). Anne Neumann (1998: 40) delves further into what constitutes political correctness, defining it as “speaking with regard for the rights and views of minorities,” and as something that “should not be seen as a gag but a choice between courtesy and coercion.” ‘Political correctness’ will therefore be used in this context for the duration of this discussion, as not only an avoidance of offence, but as the consideration of the experiences and perspectives of minorities.
The contemporary connotations of ‘exotic’ may cause it to fall into this category of politically incorrect terms, being associated with spectacle, discrimination (in that referring to something as exotic places it into a separate category) and eurocentrism. By definition, however, it refers simply to the perception of cultural difference. Similar to political correctness, the exotic can be difficult to define and identify due to its subjectivity. Graham Huggan argues that:
The exotic is not, as is often supposed, an inherent quality to be “found” in certain people, distinctive objects, or specific places; exoticism describes, rather, a particular mode of aesthetic perception – one which renders people, objects and places strange even as it domesticates them. (Huggan, 2001: 13).
How then, does the process of exoticism in Tiger and Eat, Pray, Love deem these films politically incorrect? To a contemporary audience, the ‘non-pc’ elements of Tiger are common sense. Perhaps the most obviously politically incorrect aspect of this film is the use of brownface, German actors posing as Indian characters. The eurocentrism of Germany’s Indian epics permits white actors to play any significant role, regardless of whether that character is of the same ethnicity or race. All major roles in Tiger, despite the majority of the characters being Indian, are played by German actors aside from Debra Paget (Seetha), an American. Robyn Weigman (1988: 164) explores how eurocentric values allow white actors to “occupy and signify the full range of humanity,” as an assertion of authority and superiority over the ‘other’. Tiger is not isolated in this matter - the British film Black Narcissus (Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, 1947) also features blackface. The western film industry’s inability to cast ethnically appropriate actors is perhaps one of the most harshly criticised and most obviously politically incorrect aspects of film of this era. It erases the experiences, perspectives and existence of ethnic minorities, positioning the west as central and superior.
Lang’s Tiger explicitly illustrates German colonial fantasies, and almost every creative decision made in the formation of this film appears to be driven by such fantasy. The desire to hold power over the other is evident across all three versions, being entwined in the narrative itself, though in Lang’s version this appears to be particularly prominent. The alternative endings are as follows: 1921 - the Maharajah’s lover kills herself, 1938 - she flees with her Russian lover, and 1959 - she flees with the German architect. Meenakshi Shedde and Vinzenz Hediger (2005:2) call attention to the manner in which Lang “loses no time on romantic subplots and cuts to the chase,” immediately inciting the relationship between Berger and Seetha and ending the film with Berger’s final possession of her. What better way to display his conquest than by claiming the Maharajah’s lover? Seetha is presented unanimously to the essence of Eschnapur and (the German perspective of) India throughout the course of the film. Being named after the Hindu Goddess Sita (also spelled Seeta or Seetha), she is “Indian religion incarnate at its most lascivious and irrational,” (Shedde & Hediger, p.7). She embodies illusion, sexuality and visual spectacle, being Germany’s ultimate symbol of Indian culture. In the German man’s final attainment of her, not only does he possess her, but the country and culture she represents.
Moreover, the film does not simply play out colonial fantasies, it attempts to justify them, placing the white man on a pedestal and the ‘other’ in roles of villainy or helplessness. The narrative shapes Berger as a hero, selflessly building schools and hospitals, battling dangerous tigers, saving the damsel in distress - but once more, Fritz Lang goes further to secure Berger’s position as the virtuous hero in his version. Instead of keeping the role of Berger’s fiance, who saves his life in the 1921 and 1938 versions, Lang’s film instead creates a sister to allow for a ‘moral’ relationship between him and Seetha. Of course, the inference of infidelity must be removed from the white couple’s relationship, but it is perfectly fine for Berger to run off with the Indian Maharajah’s lover. The film justifies this by antagonising the Maharajah, depicting him as a wild, irrational and evil figure, and by wrapping up Berger and Seetha’s affair under the guise of rescue. It is easy to overlook such differences when the film is teeming with obvious non-pc elements (such as the use of brownface), but the alterations made in Lang’s version emphasise Berger’s white saviour complex, therefore not only using the film as a vessel for exploring colonial fantasies, but rationalising and validating them.
Germany’s lack of a significant empire, especially in comparison to that of Britain and France in the 20th Century, may well be the root cause of the German film industry’s tendency towards these colonial fantasies, in particular, their Indian epics. In addition to this, it is perhaps the post-war context of Lang’s Tiger that makes these fantasies so prominent in the 1959 remake. Jules Cohen (1965:32) argues that the fragile aftermath of World War II left “the German public eager to forget their complicity in the grotesque crimes committed in the name of German nationalism,” using the medium of film as a means of escape. This could perhaps be the reason as to why Tiger appears to justify and validate the colonialist ideologies it imposes. From a cynical perspective, it could therefore be argued that situating such non-pc concepts within the exotic and exciting world of Eschnapur adds almost a depraved reassurance within the escapist entertainment that Cohen describes.
Eschnapur in itself illustrates the orientalisation of India, being an imaginary location in which the West is free to exert all its fantasies of pageantry, eroticism, and sensationalised spirituality. Edward Said (1978) defines orientalism as a eurocentric construction of the ‘other’, in which the west asserts authority over the east. The process of orientalism relies on reinforcing binarisms and cultural stereotypes, both of which are accomplished through the fictitious Eschnapur. The presence of wild animals (parading elephants, monkeys, and of course tigers) act as symbols of the exotic - their existence in the wild and the threat they pose suggests a barbaric civilisation, whilst simultaneously, their attendance in parades creates a sense of mystique. Eschnapur, and in conjunction India, is represented as excitingly dangerous, at once glamorous and bestial, and therefore ultimately unpredictable. The stereotypical representations in Tiger, alongside the enforced binarisms of good and evil embodied by the maniacal Maharajah and the heroic westerner, contribute to the film’s categorisation as “anti-indian” film propaganda (Sinha, 2011). Despite his desolate fate at the end of film, Berger essentially conquers Eschnapur through surviving the tigers (both literally and metaphorically), exploring (and surviving) the temple from which foreigners are forbidden, his possession of Seetha and therefore victory over the Maharajah. Tiger is transparently orientalist and ‘non-pc’, consistently attempting to assert western authority over the ‘other’ through moral superiority and ultimate victories.
These same orientalist values are present in contemporary film, though are naturally far more implicit and subtle, perhaps even unintentional. It can be argued that colonial fantasies are not only present in outdated films such as Tiger, but in the mainstream American cinema of the 21st century. Eat, Pray, Love (2010) is marketed as the exploration of “good food, spirituality and true love,” (Netflix) and “a quest of self-discovery” (Amazon Prime), but to what extent are orientalist values implicitly woven into this ‘feel-good’ film? Eat, Pray, Love has been harshly criticised for its non-pc elements, namely these orientalist implications. Protagonist Elizabeth Gilbert adventures into the ‘unknown’, the different, exciting, exotic landscapes of Italy, India and Indonesia, saving the ‘other’ during the course of healing herself. Her selflessness, benevolence and heroism are merely a subtle means of asserting western authority and securing the position of superiority. Liz encounters many ‘victims’ who she takes upon herself to ‘save’, ultimately enforcing the ideology that the ‘other’ are weak and helpless without the all-powerful west. Wayan, the Balinese healer, is introduced to the narrative when Liz finds herself with a bladder infection. Simply receiving help from the ‘other’ was not enough for the film and Liz takes it upon herself to raise money for the victimised Wayan and her helpless daughter, in what Gurkiran Dhillon (2016: 28) describes as an attempt to “redefine and reclaim her virtuous white womanhood”. Eat, Pray, Love is orientalist in the sense that it utilises non-white characters to further the white woman’s narrative, uphold her status as morally superior and solidify her position of power. This cannot simply be justified by the film’s need to further Liz’s growth as the protagonist, for this could be done in a number of ways that avoid the implication of an inferior ‘other’. For example, had Wayan simply told a story in which she ‘saved’ herself, Liz would still learn and grow as a character and complete her ‘quest of self-discovery,’ whilst also presenting Wayan as a strong and independent character.
In opposition to the Indian epics of post-war Germany, contemporary American travel films take a less aggressive and action-driven approach. Perhaps it is an attempt to remain politically correct, or maybe it is film’s inability to create a confrontational female protagonist, but Eat, Pray, Love presents the west in an unimpeachable, victimised manner. Shefali Chandra (2015:488) states that “whiteness will fortify itself through India … female hurt drives the interest in India; the white woman twins herself with the United States’ characterization of itself as wounded and innocent.” In doing so, the film takes what is arguably a gentler approach when constructing its orientalist ideologies, and could suggest that the values it presents are therefore unintentional and subconscious. Travel films prioritise western perspectives, in this case Elizabeth’s, who is hurting and attempting to heal after her divorce. In the process of wallowing in self pity, she takes advantage of the ‘other’ in order to make herself feel better, stepping on others to raise herself up under the conviction of simply being a good and innocent person.
This is furthered by the film’s essentialisation of non-white characters and the employment of stereotypes to create what are, on the surface, interesting characters, but in reality are those that lack depth or personality. Their purpose in the story is dependent on the white woman, and their characters are limited to their interactions with her, all of which comply with the film’s theme of love and relationships. Ketut, a Balinese medicine man, was merely a caricature whom Liz simply describes as “a man who looks like yoda.” Tulsi, a seventeen year old Indian girl, appears for a short time to complain about her arranged marriage, which Liz brushes off, claiming she has imagined a marriage of “love and kindness” for Tulsi and all will be fine. Interestingly, the people Liz meets in Italy are significantly less stereotypical. Luca, for example, is a friend Liz made in Italy who helps her learn the Italian language and culture. He is not essentialised in the same way Ketut, Tulsi or Wayan are - we learn more about him as a person, his job as a tax accountant, his love for food and so forth. The backstories provided for the others are merely relationship related: Wayan’s survival of domestic abuse, Tulsi’s marriage, et cetera; their purpose in the film is to validate the importance of romance as a theme. The representations of these characters are a key criticism of the film’s political incorrectness. In the way that Tiger is censured for its essentialisation of Seetha and India, Eat, Pray, Love repeats these same processes 50 years later.
The locations of travel films are central to the construction of the exotic and is a defining feature of what John Urry (2011) has termed the ‘tourist gaze’. In his book, he states that:
Gazing refers to the ”discursive determinations”, of socially constructed seeing or “scopic regimes”…People gaze upon the world through a particular filter of ideas, skills, desires and expectations, framed by social class, gender, nationality, age and education. Gazing is a performance that orders, shapes and classifies, rather than reflects the world. (Urry & Larsen, 2011: 1-2)
Eat, Pray, Love employs the tourist gaze, representing the locations of Italy, India and Indonesia through the ‘particular filter of ideas’ that the audience expects. In other words, it plays into the audience’s preconceived notions of difference, presenting locations such as Bali as an ‘unseen’, fascinating discovery for Liz, when in reality it is exactly what the audience expects. The social construction that Urry describes is reinforced by representations made in film, television and social media, though is arguably predominantly established by those privileged to travel and therefore create these initial images and ideas - for example, Elizabeth Gilbert. Lindsey Harding (2020: 1) suggests that “the Western-appropriated notion of spirituality via travel has catered to privileged white women,” exploring the manner in which self-discovery is achieved at the expense and consumption of the ‘other’. The hermeneutic cycle in which the tourist gaze functions is therefore perhaps limited to the privileged west; the ability to see photographs or brochures and then set out to claim those experiences for themselves as Liz does in Eat, Pray, Love.
Conclusively, both Tiger and Eat, Pray, Love display attributes that can be considered non-politically correct. These vary from explicitly racist behaviours, such as the use of brownface in Tiger, to more subtly problematic features such as the essentialisation of the ‘other’ in Eat, Pray, Love. The reasons these films are criticised so harshly differ in that Tiger transparently communicates orientalist values and colonial fantasies with no shame, but Eat, Pray, Love is ignorant in the harm it causes through its representations and the lack of acknowledgement of the west’s position of privilege. There are similarities in the way in which the ‘other’ is represented and perceived through these films, consolidating factors such as location and people being defining features of exoticism. The analysis hereby provided of the non-pc aspects of these films merely touches the surface of exoticism, and in order to fully grasp the concept of political correctness, further discussion of these films is necessary. In particular, eroticism and the sexualisation of the ‘other’, the exotic gaze, and further detail of the creation of Western identity through the ‘other’ would help to provide a fuller analysis of these films.
Bibliography
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Filmography
Black Narcissus (1947). Directed by Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger. General Film Distributors (GFD), UK.
Eat, Pray, Love (2010). Directed by Ryan Murphy. [Film] Sony Pictures Entertainment, USA.
The Tiger of Eschnapur (1959). Directed by Fritz Lang. [Film] Gloria, Germany.
