When Political Movies Pretend to be Apolitical

All good art is political! There is none that isn't. And the ones that try hard not to be political are political by saying, 'We love the status quo.” - Toni Morrison

One of the most acclaimed films of this year is RRR, directed by S.S. Rajamouli. The film, à la The Motorcycle Diaries, tells the fictional origin stories of two Indian freedom fighters, Alluri Sitaramaraju and Komaram Bheem. Nothing in historical records suggests that these two figures actually met in real life, and the plot of the film is based on the fact that both left home for a few years at around the same time. The film has beautifully shot action set pieces with a definite narrative purpose, a rare combination that Western audiences especially have been yearning for. From the layered performances to the stirring background score, there is so much to like about this film and it is no wonder that RRR is still playing in cities across the United States. While praising the film, some critics have noted that RRR presents a revisionist version of history that is more amenable to right-wing audiences. Examining RRR can inform us about how movies that seem to lack politics or have universally acceptable politics can convey pernicious ideas that are more consequential than they appear. 

On the surface, RRR depicts significant political events in an uncontroversial manner. The film is fundamentally about an anti-colonial struggle against the British Raj. However, the film takes liberties in depicting the two main characters and their relationship. These liberties, which non-Telugu audiences might not be familiar with, indicate a lot about the politics of the film and its makers. For most of the film, Rajamouli depicts the main characters as ordinary people who, through the force of sheer willpower, become superheroes. By the end of the film, however, both of these characters take on certain qualities of Hindu deities, despite Bheem not being Hindu. There also is a teacher-student and a noble-savage dynamic between them, which is troubling considering the caste differences between their real-life revolutionary counterparts. Many of these embellishments, products of South Indian mass cinema, have more to do with appeasing the cult-like fanbases of the main leads and the families they come from than emphasizing a certain political agenda. However, these plot developments are especially concerning in the modern Indian context where right-wing nationalists employ historical revisionism to target oppressed communities, including Muslims and lower-castes.

In response to these criticisms, director S.S. Rajamouli has said that the movie is not about politics or even history but is simply a tale about friendship. RRR fits into a significant subsection of movies that have explicit political content but claim to be apolitical. In a recent New Yorker article, Rajamouli rejected criticisms that his movie has right-wing messages or themes, condemning the far-right ruling party Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and caste discrimination. He states that he is “not catering to them [extremists]. I’m just catering to the emotional needs of the audience.” At the same time, he cites prominent right-wing figures such as Ayn Rand as influences. Speaking about Rand’s influence on his work, Rajamouli explains that he “understand[s] parts of her philosophy, but that goes over my head once she gets into it. I’m not such a deep thinker, I’m more of a dramatic thinker, so I like the drama part of it.” What Rajamouli’s statements indicate is that he is trying to create films that are separated from politics, which he seems not to be very interested in.

However, even when a filmmaker does not intend to inject a political bent into their movie, they should still be acutely aware of the political outlook that their film expresses and the political conditions that made their film possible. Rajamouli of all people knows from experience that cinema does not exist in a vacuum separate from politics; a moment in a teaser for RRR where Bheem goes into disguise as a Muslim prompted a far-right BJP leader to threaten to burn down every theater that screened RRR. What makes RRR and Indian cinema interesting to study from a political lens is that conflicts and debates over political content in movies are much more intense in India and can even foster communal violence. Although India is a particularly extreme example, films from other countries also serve similar functions as RRR does in their respective contexts.

            Blockbusters claiming to be apolitical with clear political ideology are especially prevalent in the West, and a notable example is the Marvel Cinematic Universe. In many recent MCU releases, the villain consistently attempts to change the status quo while the protagonist is the protector of it. For example, the villain Erik Killmonger from Black Panther (2018) attempts to arm oppressed communities around the world so that they can fight back against their oppressors. Having bad guys with believable motivations that audiences can empathize with is a positive for blockbuster films. Nevertheless, there is always a point where these bad guys overstep their boundaries and reveal that their intentions are not sincere, usually by killing civilians or acting out of selfishness. At this point, the heroes neutralize them. However, our protagonists never seriously consider the social problems that villains criticize or attempt to remedy the conditions that produced the villains. They instead opt for a middle road that accepts a return to an unjust status quo, even if it has been producing mass violence, as the most desirable outcome.

Marvel’s consistent villain problem is just one aspect of its politics. The same Marvel heroes who put down any dissent to the status quo also routinely partner with right-wing characters. In Black Panther, the protagonist collaborates with a CIA agent to defeat the villain. Through coups and destabilization efforts, the CIA has done more damage to the African continent in the twentieth century than Killmonger could ever do. Characterizing CIA agents as being noble and virtuous, especially in the context of Black Panther, is ideological but presented as apolitical. Presenting inaccurate depictions of real life might be narratively expeditious, but it is dangerous revisionism and an insult to the audience’s intelligence.

Another example of an apolitical political film is Top Gun: Maverick, a legacy sequel to Top Gun. Just like the first film, it follows Top Gun, a military program consisting of naval aviators. The sequel chooses to avoid controversy and remain as politically neutral as possible by never having the antagonists appear without their helmets or display country-related insignia. However, the terrain of the conflict appears Eastern European and the concerns over unsanctioned uranium enrichment echo Republican nightmare scenarios in the wake of the Iran Nuclear Deal. Characters in the film never question whether the United States, as the only country to have used nuclear weapons, can dictate to another country what its nuclear policy should be. Art is inherently political, created by a certain set of material, social, and political conditions. By presenting certain assumptions as a given, filmmakers of movies like RRR, Black Panther, and Top Gun: Maverick attempt to remove them from the realm of debate for the sake of immersion. As thoughtful viewers of cinema, we must understand the socio-political dimensions of every movie and critically evaluate whatever a movie presents to be true.

It is also important to note that the filmmakers of a particular movie might not be the most politically educated or cognizant of the political impact of their films, so solely blaming the directors and writers of big blockbuster movies for their films’ inadvertent messages is not always useful. These filmmakers are working within an industry that requires financial backing from wealthy financiers and the state. They should still be held accountable for the political messages of their films, but there are others, including studio executives and financiers, who arguably have more influence. The institutions and individuals that make large-scale filmmaking financially possible benefit from the status quo and therefore will not sponsor any film seeking to challenge current social, political, or economic relations. Until filmmaking becomes a more democratic art form, mainstream films with politically subversive and challenging ideas will be few and far between.

This does not mean that people should completely divest from big blockbusters just because of their political ideologies. Living at the tail end of a deadly pandemic and the beginning of climate catastrophe, modern audiences derive a much-needed hiatus from big-budget extravaganzas, but consuming critically is vital. It is possible to appreciate and thoroughly enjoy the efforts of thousands of technicians and craftspeople while also fully understanding the political context of any film that insists on its political neutrality.

The Progressive Case for Nationalism

            In a famous scene of James Joyce’s seminal novel Ulysses, the protagonist Leopold Bloom is asked about his nationality. Bloom responds that his nation is “Ireland, I was born here, Ireland.” In response, the Citizen, Joyce’s personification of narrow-minded nationalism, spits in disgust. For the Citizen, Leopold Bloom, a Jew of Hungarian descent, can never be Irish.

            For many liberals and progressives, the attitudes represented by the Citizen epitomize what they associate with nationalism: close-mindedness, bigotry, and intolerance. This reputation is neither undeserved nor completely unsubstantiated. Far-right ideologies, such as white nationalism and Christian nationalism, have proven destructive to our country, leading to violence against minorities and concerted attacks on our democratic institutions and norms. Throughout history, many forms of nationalism, particularly in Europe, were rooted in the idea of a “people”' with a shared ethnicity and ancestry. Expressions of xenophobia derived from certain strands of ethnic nationalism should be definitively rejected by progressives as they have no place in a pluralistic, multiracial democracy like the United States. However, I also believe that it is important to draw a clear distinction between right-wing strands of nationalism and a more progressive form of civic nationalism, if Americans are to truly appreciate and constructively mobilize the values underlying the idea of a nation.

            As a self-identified liberal, I will argue for a particular type of nationalism. Nationalism has never been a fixed concept and in fact, it has proven exceedingly difficult for political theorists to attach a single definition to nationalism. If liberals and progressives abandon the idea of nationalism, I fear that they will be missing the opportunity to harness the energies capable of building solidarity and achieving long-standing progressive goals. There is tremendous potential for nationalism in the United States, particularly to address critical problems in our country such as economic inequality and poverty.

            I am going to conceptualize the nation as an “imagined political community,” using the definition proffered by political scientist Benedict Anderson. As Anderson argues, even though the members of a nation will never meet most of their fellow members, they feel a special bond with them. In order for any nation to exist, there needs to be a national spirit or shared consciousness among its various members. This consciousness can be built by appealing to common ancestry and culture or by laying claim to a shared system of values and principles. While conceptions of the nation have been broadly and narrowly tailored throughout history, I believe that the idea of an “imagined political community” has always been at the heart of nationalism. This concept is particularly evident at the FIFA World Cup or any other international sports competition where multitudes of attendees collectively cheer on their national team.

            A particularly compelling idea of nationalism is found in Theodore Roosevelt’s “New Nationalism” speech, delivered over one hundred years ago in Osawatomie, Kansas. As Roosevelt put it, “The New Nationalism puts the national need before sectional and personal advantage . . . [and] regards the executive power as the steward of the public welfare.” For me, Roosevelt captures exactly how progressives should understand and mobilize nationalism: to serve the broader public need and welfare. It was this form of nationalism that mobilized the volunteers who removed over 100,000 tons of debris from Ground Zero after 9/11 and motivated the over 90,000 health care workerswho signed up to assist overwhelmed hospitals in New York City during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.

            Progressives should not be shy about expressing their patriotism. They need to stand strongly and unambiguously behind their own brand of nationalism, a version that prioritizes tolerance and inclusivity. As research by behavioral economists has shown, national identity can be deployed to encourage people to act more selflessly in the public interest. During World War II, Americans were mobilized to serve in the army and to work in war plants by an acute sense of patriotism and national identity. These efforts were bolstered by massive recycling efforts to save metal, rubber, and other household goods that generated much-needed supplies for those at the war front. Recently, American doctors mobilized national identity during the pandemic when they encouraged their fellow citizens to wear a mask and follow public health measures by appealing to a patriotic sensibility.

In a similar manner, we must utilize nationalism to convince Americans that we have a civic duty to provide each other with sufficient means to survive and the opportunities to pursue a fruitful life. Income inequality in the United States is significantly higher than in other developed nations in the world and has only been exacerbated by the Great Recession of 2008 and the COVID-19 pandemic. While some amount of economic inequality is necessary to incentivize entrepreneurship and economic growth, excessive inequality erodes trust in democracies and can fuel authoritarian movements. As of 2021, approximately 38 million Americans are living below the poverty line. Economists and policy experts argue that much of this poverty is due to a “reluctant welfare state.” The traditional sense of rugged individualism in the United States has led to the “tragedy of the commons,” a term coined by 19th-century British writer William Forster Lloyd to describe how purely selfish behavior on the part of individuals can lead to suboptimal outcomes for the whole group. Nationalism can be a tool to build solidarity across various coalitions in the United States and encourage individuals to contribute more to the public welfare through a fairer taxation code.

Nowadays, we hear much discourse about identity politics. Author and journalist Jonathan Rauch has provided a working definition for identity politics: “political mobilization organized around group characteristics such as race, gender, and sexuality, as opposed to party, ideology, or pecuniary interest.” While identity politics is often derided for being divisive and alienating, it is not inherently bad. Identity politics may even be necessary if people are being discriminated against because of a specific group characteristic that they hold. However, as intellectual historian Mark Lilla has argued, it is a mistake to think of the United States as being composed of various identity groups with discrete interests. We need to have a broader conception of what binds us together as Americans so we can address the problems that affect the majority of us. Our national identity can provide us not only with a sense of the individual rights we are entitled to, but also the duties that we have towards our fellow citizens. A shared national identity can also allow American citizens to work together to fight for those who are less privileged and bolster the struggle for a more equitable and just society.

            I understand that many of my fellow liberals and progressives chafe at the idea of nationalism because it includes some people while excluding others. But this is true of any of our core identities. Humans are inherently tribal and we derive meaning through belonging to groups. For better or for worse, the nation is one of the few ideas that has allowed large groups of humans to come together beyond superficial characteristics and based on shared ideals. As the philosopher Anthony Appiah has argued, nationalism and cosmopolitanism are not mutually exclusive or fundamentally opposed to one another. We can have special bonds with fellow members of our nation while acknowledging that we have broader obligations to humanity as a whole. The brand of nationalism that liberals and progressives should harness can be found in the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in his Letter from a Birmingham City Jail: “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly . . . Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere within its bounds.”

Before liberals and progressives give up on nationalism, we must consider what it can be rather than cede its potential to the far right. We should not perceive the hundreds of white supremacists who attended the “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville or those who stormed the Capitol on January 6 to be the exemplification of nationalism. A narrow formulation of American identity is a choice made by certain extremist groups but is not by any means an obligation for American nationalism. Progressives and liberals should proudly stand by their brand of civic nationalism and utilize it to create solidarity and reach their policy goals.