'To Kill a Tiger' Movie Review 2023

“To Kill a Tiger”: Unveiling a Powerful Documentary

In “To Kill a Tiger,” Nisha Pahuja’s new documentary, we are confronted with scenes so profoundly distressing and enraging that even those who approach it with full awareness may find themselves taken aback. This, I acknowledge, isn’t the conventional way to promote a film. However, in this instance, it is a fitting description. “To Kill a Tiger” conveys a vital narrative in a gripping fashion, rendering it a worthwhile viewing experience. Nonetheless, its journey is at times so emotionally intense that it may overwhelm certain viewers.

The initial sequences are as harrowing as any cinematic moments I can recollect. We witness a 13-year-old girl, Kiran (a pseudonym), braiding her hair while her father, Ranjit, shares on camera the traumatic account of her rape at a family wedding by three men, one of whom was her cousin, in their small northeastern Indian village. These scenes shed light on the grim reality that women face, with sexual assaults occurring on average every 20 minutes, and an alarming 90% of these heinous crimes remaining unreported.

SIFF 2023 Trailer: To Kill a Tiger

“To Kill a Tiger”: Unveiling a Powerful Documentary

The three men were promptly apprehended, and overwhelmed by his inability to protect his daughter, Ranjit was resolute in ensuring their prosecution for their crimes. This case drew the attention of the Sirjan Foundation, a coalition of activists who recognized the rarity of a father standing up for his daughter in a rape case. The foundation’s members rallied to support, with the hope that a successful prosecution would catalyze a shift in the abhorrent local attitudes toward such crimes.

However, these deeply ingrained attitudes resurfaced when Ranjit and his family became targets of their fellow villagers for pursuing legal action, rather than adhering to the customary practice of handling it as a “village matter” through compromise with the assailants. It’s worth noting that the prevailing notion of “compromise,” upheld by many, both men and women, revolved around the idea that Kiran should marry one of her rapists to purportedly restore her honor and restore peace and harmony in the village.

The suggestion is so shockingly repugnant that it leaves one almost breathless, yet regrettably, it is not the sole instance of cruelty that the family has to endure. Kiran is ostracized by the local community, with most of them unjustly laying the blame for the crime squarely on her shoulders. Some attempt to coerce Ranjit into reconsidering his decision to pursue prosecution as a means to “restore the mood.” When these efforts fail, they resort to threats of violence, including the murder of Ranjit and the destruction of his home.

Even more disturbingly, the father of one of the accused contends that the case should be dropped because “they won’t do it again.” The female defense attorney, in a contradictory twist, asserts that Kiran bears the primary blame for the entire incident, arguing that women should know better. However, she inadvertently undermines her stance with her next statement, admitting, “I can’t even trust my own son.” To fathom the deeply entrenched nature of this mindset, it’s crucial to note that nearly every example cited in this paragraph unfolds in front of Pahuja’s camera.

Throughout the 14-month duration it takes for the case to navigate the legal system, we witness its profound impact on all those involved, prompting us to question its ultimate worth. There are numerous moments when the relentless ostracization, menacing threats, and the financial burdens of sustaining the case cast doubt on whether Ranjit possesses the fortitude to persevere. The locals persist in their deplorable words and actions, reaching a point where they even threaten Nisha Pahuja and her crew for their persistent interest in what they deem a “local matter.”

In the end, it’s Kiran herself who rises to the occasion. When the local police inspector falters in delivering his crucial testimony in court, the fate of the entire case hinges on the strength of Kiran’s testimony. She proves herself more than equal to the challenge, as evidenced in the excerpt we have the privilege to witness. (Notably, Pahuja initially intended to conceal Kiran’s face, but at the age of 18, Kiran consented to having her true face revealed throughout the documentary.)

While ‘To Kill a Tiger’ may not be an exceptionally artistic documentary in terms of style and complexity, it is not the type of story that demands flashy visuals or intricate narrative structures. Instead, it delivers its narrative with clarity and directness. Nisha Pahuja’s film is unapologetically blunt in its mission to challenge the deeply entrenched beliefs that have exacerbated the suffering of countless women in Kiran’s unfortunate circumstances. As unsettling as many of the scenes documented by Pahuja are, ‘To Kill a Tiger’ ultimately manages to authentically convey a message of hope.

Now playing in theaters.