A Suitable Boy- a final review

 

So, A Suitable Boy has concluded on our screens, which means it is time to attempt a retrospective. In a previous post I said that ‘novels are artificial constructs that tell a story in a choreographed way, in the end of the story seems inevitable and satisfactory once you reach it’. Episode one began with a wedding, at which Rupa Mehra declared her attention to get her younger daughter Lata to follow suit. Episode six ended with Lata’s wedding; inevitable, but was it satisfactory?

In bringing the book to the screen the novel’s complex interwoven storylines were always going to be simplified. In essence, three were retained, Lata’s adventures in love, her brother-in Law Maan’s glorious obsession with an older woman and his father’s political activity. The extended cast list was pruned and the four main families introduced with brief pen portraits. The test was, if you haven’t read the book, can you still follow the story?

I’d say the series passed the test. If, like me, you followed the Twitter thread during and after each episode, it was clear to see that viewers were emotionally invested in the story and the characters. Each suitor had cheerleaders online, as did handsome bad boy Maan.

For those like me who have read the book, the test was, can the show avoid outraging us with its changes and omissions? Again, I would say it succeeds. The characters who we don’t see, such as Firoz’s brother Imtiaz, are not really missed, and the plot changes are minor. For instance we see the three suitors meeting outside the house Lata is staying in, whereas in the book they all meet up at the cricket match, but the scene on the screen works really well.

What both the book and the show have in common is that they manage to make most characters likeable and show us their motivations. In general, the more Indian a character is the more we warm to them. Lata and Maan for instance favour traditional dress, whereas her brother Arun is very Europeanised and somehow less likeable. Firoz too has a great line in stylish Indian jackets. The devious Meenakshi looks great in her saris, which make her very decorative.

The older characters too are interesting. Mahesh Kapoor may be a typical heavy-handed father when we meet him but he is attempting a radical policy change that will adversely affect his friend, the Nawab Khan, by stripping him of land. Mahesh knows everything has a cost. The Nawab too, knows he will lose out but is trying to see the big picture and support the reform anyway.

This is, of course, a historical costume drama and we need to be wary of imposing or values and concerns on its protagonists. This is especially when it comes to Lata and her choices. At the book’s outset we meet a ‘modern’ young woman, at University, unsure whether marriage, her mother’s preferred option for her, is what she wants. Her romance with Kabir has a touch of the Romeo and Juliet’s about it, love across the divide, love over-riding all other concerns. But this doesn’t last and she avoids becoming a tragic heroine. Having experienced passion with Kabir she is self-aware enough to recognise that Amit does not make her feel like that, even though she enjoys his attention.

Which leaves Haresh. It is here that modern sensibilities can get in the way. Conditioned to disapprove the idea of arranged marriage, many of us will dismiss him as the safe choice Rupa wants Lata to marry. In addition, he is not cool, being literally buttoned up in his European clothes, and not eye candy in the way Kabir is (or Maan, for that matter). So Lata’s pivoting towards him in preference to her other suitors left some confused. But on the page and on the screen there were clear motivational reasons for her. Kabir displayed a jealous streak that put her off and Amit always seemed to be going through the motions, while Maan showed her the consequences of letting passion over-rule common sense. Finally, even though her mother wanted him to be the one, her brothers’ disapproval enabled her to position him as the rebellious choice.

What clinched it though was when he showed her that although he adored her, he was not prepared to be toyed with. His abrupt departure forced her to confront the fact that he mattered to her, and showed him in a different light. Lata senses that with Haresh it will be a marriage of equals with some-one who genuinely loves her. Other opinions are available, but as I say, in the context of 1952 her decision is explicable.

The story of Maan and Saeeda is the antithesis of Lata’s relatively demure adventures. It is a wild story of passion and transgression. The actors in these roles managed to convey their connection very well even as the viewer realises it can’t last. Saeeda does toy with Maan, (more so in the book) but she is vulnerable too. This is another relationship across the religious divide, as well as across the age divide and the respectable/disreputable one. Tabu is an established star, whilst Ishaan Kataar shows the potential to become one.

Compared with their tumult the pursuit of Tasneem by Firoz seems positively 18^th century. Which is just as well, as they are in fact brother and sister. When this gets tangled up with the Maan/Saeeda story tragedy ensues.

It is all the more tragic because as the book implies, and the show more explicitly shows, the relationship between Maan and Firoz is almost a romantic one, certainly an Achilles/Patroclus or Alexander/Hephaistion one (an intense friendship with a physical undercurrent). Seen in this light, Firoz saving his friend in court is no surprise. This is an example of the book, and the show, being more than just chocolate book pretty. There are also examples of disreputable behaviour, the attempted seduction of Lata by a friend’s father being one, and the implied seduction of her brother by an older female friend of the family being another, along with Meenakshi dallying with her husband’s best friend.

These provide shade and depth to what could otherwise be a bit Mills & Boon. But what also makes this show worth watching are the performances. Tanya Maliktala as Lata has an on-screen presence that compels you to watch her. She is not a ‘hot chick’, but far more interesting as a result, and with an intensity that makes her attraction to her suitors believable.

The show has an almost impossible tightrope to walk in terms of avoiding Indian clichés and not offending modern sensibilities, but generally does so well. As a White British male tuning in through love of the book I was concerned that those with Indian heritage might be upset with it, but the Twitter thread showed a lot of love from the Indian community, which was re-assuring. Because although it tells its story through Indian imagery and sensibility, ultimately, its main themes are common human concerns that transcend settings to appeal to us all.

One criticism remains: IT WAS TOO SHORT! It deserved at least twelve hours of television to do it justice.