Beyond Controversy: A Deeper Look At ‘Animal’ & The Collective Shadow

By Debasmita Chatterjee

Out of the 32 films I watched in 2023, the one that resonated with me the most was ‘Animal’. If you’re cringing already, allow me to explain. This film has not only shaken the Indian intelligentsia but has also deeply stirred me. If you’re still with me, let’s dive in.

I want to talk about the most controversial aspect of this film. What is the message it carries? Does it glorify misogyny and toxic masculinity, or is it a celebration of hyper-masculinity? Every viewer seems to take away a different message, and that’s the beauty of it. Here’s my interpretation: ‘Animal’ serves as a case study on a neglected child growing up to become an adult with an underdeveloped psyche.

To provide some context, I view films as expressions of collective consciousness. Some part of the consciousness, whether seen or unseen, finds expression in art. In the case of ‘Animal’, the film represents a manifestation of a collective shadow, pointing towards an impending paradigm shift. If all that feels gibberish to you, bear with me. If it’s going too deep, I can’t help. Depth is my middle name, feel free to skip if it’s not your thing.

My feelings echo the words of the Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl Jung- “All art intuitively apprehends coming changes in the collective unconsciousness.” The paradigm shift, I perceive, revolves around the end of blind worship of our parents as superheroes and recognizing them as flawed human beings with their share of limitations. This extends beyond parents to anyone we put on a pedestal — teachers, authority figures, celebrities, romantic partners. We invest a significant portion of our lives protecting the image we put on the pedestal, only to find that many of them fail us.

Psychologists would concur that this occurs when the brain, lacking a healthy parental figure in childhood, creates an image needed for a sense of safety. Most of us grew up with parents shaped by a dysfunctional culture and their traumas, substituting time, attention, and love with material possessions obtained through money. Just as overwatering can kill a plant, this substitution doesn’t work. Unmet needs lead to specific emotional and coping mechanisms in a child.

Watching closely, the protagonist of ‘Animal’, Rannvijay (portrayed by Ranbir Kapoor), prematurely lets go of his childhood, emulating his idea of an ideal adult. This abrupt transition stunts his natural development, creating a split in his psyche. One part clings to the fantasy that his father will see and appreciate him, while another part becomes invested in embodying the alpha male as per the child’s understanding. Psychologists would call him a parentified child. 

Rannvijay grows up to be someone who feels deeply. When his ideals and boundaries are violated, he expresses his emotions intensely (no, I am not endorsing or justifying extreme actions like a massacre; consider incidents such as taking a gun to college to protect his sister as a metaphor). However, juxtaposed with these intense reactions, he also reveals himself as a caring partner. For instance, he actively supports and cares for his wife during childbirth. His character is layered – bringing a gun into the bedroom to express anger when his wife touches a psychic wound, yet in the very next moment, rushing to comfort the sleeping children in his arms, assuaging their fears.

Rannvijay is outrageous yet rooted. He believes deeply in himself and his intelligence, strategizing for his goals. He may be wiser than his father, who never fully appreciates him.

He has made peace with the sadness of not feeling seen by his father, stating that “Happiness is a decision”. However, the anger and rage make him fly to another country to avenge an attempt on his father’s life, releasing pent-up violence. 

When Rannvijay slit Abrar’s throat, I remembered me slitting my wrist with similar ferocity in 2011. At that point, I did not know how to regulate my emotions, and the anger and pain of growing up with an emotionally absent, gaslighting parent was indeed overwhelming. 

Returning to his father, Rannvijay narrates the pain he has endured, finally letting go of grief. Now, he is anyway about to lose his father whom he tried too hard to protect. Trying to protect him is beyond his powers now. However, does this free his psyche from the fantasy of the “Hero” he clung to? We don’t know, and perhaps the director doesn’t have an answer either.

In my eyes, the film’s climax remains a poorly constructed part compared to the rest. Ideally, having freed up energy, Rannvijay would embark on a journey of individuation, manifesting the hero within his psyche. The child would parent himself from a space devoid of fragmentation, developing a healthy inner authority. Perhaps, Rannvijay would develop that through parenting his son, who knows? 

After all, the Rannvijay within our psyche is faced with a choice, particularly considering the acknowledgement of their repressed part on screen. Only at this juncture can we perceive the world through the eyes of an adult who no longer demands perfection from everything but takes what works for them and discards the rest. 

The uproar surrounding ‘Animal’ reveals that we are a nation full of adult children. Rannvijay’s story resonates with those who have concealed their sensitive, unfulfilled child—those harbouring anger and rage from unhealthy parenting. Some could not bear seeing this depiction on screen, dissociating themselves and engaging in criticism. The triggered “woke” minds screamed “toxic” and “hypermasculine,” but if observed closely, misogyny was present in Abrar’s character, and his story might warrant another article.

As for toxicity, ancient wisdom from Ayurveda suggests that excess of anything is toxic. As part of evolution, our collective consciousness has accumulated toxins, and witnessing them on screen makes the cleansing process easier for those willing to do so. In that way, it might be said that the film unintentionally serves as a tool of catharsis, potentially doing a significant service to the collective. 

However, it’s essential to acknowledge that director Sandeep Reddy Vanga’s primary intention was likely to tell a story and explore the theme of so-called toxic masculinity with honesty. While he has room to grow as a director, I hope that he continues refining his authentic voice. In an era dominated by streaming platforms, artificial intelligence-generated stories, and an internet overflowing with content, the real need isn’t just for more narratives but for genuine voices.  Authentic voices telling stories might give us, the doom-scrolling addicted collective the deep nourishment we are longing for.

(The author is a former journalist who transitioned to poetry and freelance writing after a stint in TV reporting)

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