Captain Miller: Tamil cinema, caste and colonialism

Arun Matheswaran-directed Captain Miller, in theatres, stars Dhanush.

In Arun Matheswaran’s newly released period action adventure film Captain Miller (2023), Dhanush plays an Adivasi hero who joins the British army and later becomes an outlaw. Thanks to the anti-caste wave in Tamil cinema, pioneered by director Pa Ranjith in 2012, several Tamil films have characters and scenes that are assertive of anti-caste politics.

In Captain Miller, Eesa (Dhanush) and his people live in a village surrounding a temple. According to local legend, the land was given to the people by a king who wished to express his gratitude to Koranar, a hero from the Adivasi community, who saved his life. However, generations later, the royal family resents the presence of the Adivasi community around the temple. Though the Adivasi people live so close to it, they’re barred entry to the temple.

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Set in pre-independent India, Captain Miller briefly touches on the complex history between caste and colonialism. Eesa’s brother (Shiva Rajkumar) is a freedom fighter. He’s aghast to learn that Eesa wants to join the British army. But, Eesa questions him about how marginalised groups were treated before the British arrived in their land – were they ever free at all? “At least, the British will give me boots to wear if I join the army. But the upper castes here expect us to be barefooted,” he says. His brother has no answer to Eesa’s questions. When Eesa and other men from marginalised groups join the army, they are given uniforms with British names. But, a man from a privileged caste makes fun of them for claiming such names that don’t “suit” their station in life.

It doesn’t take long for the gloss to wear off, and Eesa turns away from the army when he’s forced to shoot protesters. However, the film highlights a relevant aspect of colonial rule that is hardly ever represented in films that revolve around themes of nationalism. For instance, in SS Rajamouli’s RRR (2022), Bheem (Junior NTR) is an adivasi man from the Gond community who disguises himself as a Muslim. His mission is to rescue a young girl from his community who was abducted by the British Governor and his wife, and imprisoned in their palatial home as an object of amusement.

The story is fictional, but the character was inspired by a real tribal hero – Komaram Bheem. In real life, Komaram Bheem’s rebellion was triggered by the exploitation of his people by the local zamindars and the oppressive rule of the Nizams. In the film, however, these layers of oppression don’t exist, and the focus is on the British as a brute force that crushes the Adivasi people. Further, Bheem is portrayed as a simple-minded tribal who is “educated” by his savarna friend, Ram (Ram Charan playing a character inspired by another real life hero, Alluri Sitarama Raju). Even his famous slogan ‘Jal, Jungle, Jameen’ (water, forest, land) is attributed to the “education” provided by Ram. In real life, there is no record of Komaram Bheem and Alluri Sitarama Raju ever meeting.

The appropriation and misrepresentation of Bheem by Rajamouli created an uproar at the time of the film’s release in India, but it did little to dent its performance at the box office. In the worldwide box office, the film was largely viewed through the prism of anti-colonialism, and its treatment of Bheem and his story didn’t receive as much attention.

While the impulse of the audience currently watching mainstream cinema might be to root for Indians against the British, history isn’t so simple. Dr BR Ambedkar, for instance, reclaimed the Battle of Bhima Koregaon – where the British army comprising Mahars (a Dalit caste in Maharashtra) defeated the Peshwas who were high caste Brahmins – as a symbol of Dalit pride. In fact, in a letter to The Times of India on June 18, 1941, Ambedkar said, “There can be no doubt that without the help of the untouchables the British would never have been able to conquer India” and argued for the inclusion of more Mahars in the British army. This did not make Ambedkar a traitor.

A leader of great intellect and empathy, Ambedkar was aware that the end of colonial rule would not automatically liberate the Dalits who were forced to lead inhuman lives in Hindu society. He was focused on the emancipation of the marginalised, not only the political freedom of the country. As he wrote in his book Plea to the Foreigner, “All battles for freedom are not on equal moral plane for the simple reason that the motives and purposes behind these battles of freedom are not always the same.”

The Battle of Koregaon took place on January 1, 1818, and Ambedkar visited the site in 1927. To commemorate his historic visit and assert their identity, thousands of Ambedkarites visit Bhima Koregaon on January 1. In 2018, the anniversary celebrations turned violent after a Dalit procession was attacked by a mob, allegedly instigated by right wing groups.

In Captain Miller, one of the key scenes is the Adivasis entering the temple for the first time. Their leader Koranar’s face is carved on a gemstone buried in the temple’s sanctum sanctorum, and yet, they have been prevented from entering the temple for so long. The film, thus, throws light on the multiple oppressions that existed – and continue to exist – in society.

Asuran (2019) is another Tamil film that touches on caste and colonialism. The Vetrimaaran film, based on Poomani’s novel Vekkai (1982), has the issue of panchami land at its centre. In 1892, the British distributed land to the Dalits – who were historically deprived of land rights – in Tamil Nadu. This was based on Chinglepet (now Chengalpattu) Collector JHA Tremenheere’s study on the condition of marginalised caste groups in the state. The Depressed Classes Land Act was passed on September 30, 1892, and 12 lakh acres of panchami land was assigned to Dalits throughout the state. This land could not be sold or reassigned. However, several acres of the land were subsequently occupied by dominant and upper-castes with the collusion of the state.

In Asuran, Sivasami’s (Dhanush) family is harassed by a dominant caste landlord who wants to purchase his land for a factory. When the family refuses to sell, they resort to violence. Towards the end of the film, Sivasami, who spirals into violence to defend his family, tells his younger son to study well because those above them in the caste hierarchy will rob them of everything, but they cannot rob them of their education. The idea resonates with Dr Ambedkar’s famous slogan ‘Educate, agitate, organise’.

This is not to argue that colonial rule was beneficial to India. The loot and plunder unleashed by the British pushed millions to poverty and starvation. Yet, these intersections between colonialism and the caste system – how one influenced the other – deserve better readings and representation on screen. Perhaps, Pa Ranjith’s forthcoming film Thangalaan, which is about a tribal leader’s revolt against the British, will offer a more nuanced view of the issue, and push filmmakers to explore the country’s social history better.