Often touted as an ‘unfilmable’ novel, Yann Martel’s Life of Pi told the story of a young Indian boy named Pi who, over the course of the story, finds himself on a small life raft in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with only a dangerous Bengal Tiger (whom he names Richard Parker) to accompany him. Here, he goes on a hazardous journey of survival, during which he explores his spirituality and is taken to the depths of his understanding of life itself. Ang Lee’s 2012 film masterfully adapts these themes into an elegant, fairytale-like story that is alternatingly presentational and deeply personal. Here, Pi (played as a young teenager by Suraj Sharma and as an adult by Irffan Khan) relates this story to a young novelist (Rafe Spall), who becomes the audience conduit for the duration of the film. Life of Pi explores the nature of storytelling and religion, demonstrating the very human need for both uncertainty and solace – just as Pi tells a more interesting story that is more fantastical than the cynical story that is closer to truth, the audience learns the value of the process of believing in the beauty of our universe and the wonder of story. From a structuralist perspective on this film, Ang Lee makes plain the intersection between storytelling and religion: the process of buying into both in order to enrich one’s experience requires a similar leap of faith, and a choice regarding how you want to define your reality.
Structuralism in film and literary critical theory explores the relation of texts to larger structures; in essence, it is a school of theory that relates directly to recognition of literary syntax (Propp, 1928). In essence, structuralism and semiotics point out the narrative conventions present in telling a story and make us understand their roles in the story’s affect. Where Life of Pi most acutely relays its themes of storytelling is in its varying framing devices – the film constantly switches between the living-room conversations between adult Pi and the novelist Yann Martel (Spall), and the story with Richard Parker that the film shows us. By framing this story within the film itself, the audience is allowed to examine its own process of absorbing a story: we are Yann Martel, Ang Lee the filmmaker is Pi, and in those scenes we are seeing him craft the story for our benefit. By externalizing the process of filmmaking and showing it in the film’s plot, Life of Pi comments on the audience-filmmaker contract; Yann is told he will “make you believe in God”; for the purposes of this narrative, this is the artist indicating his ability to fire up the imagination of his audience.
There is a power given to storytelling, particularly through the character of Pi; through these tales, even in the beginning, Pi is turned from a young boy who is mocked for his unfortunate first name (‘Piscene’ sounds like ‘pissing’) into a math wizard who has the respect of his peers. This scene establishes the importance of detail, of narrative, and of emotional involvement in the creation of a good story; the way the audience is engaged with the first story of Pi’s name is a litmus test for how they will respond to the more fantastical tales that lay ahead. The film is inherently metatextual in its presentation; Pi’s journey is the classic hero’s journey stripped down to its basest elements. Furthermore, Pi is a tremendously open character – open to all things, all faiths, and all creatures; the biggest disappointments he meets in the film are when animals do not respond in equal measure to the kindness he gives them. Pi’s naivete is shown simultaneously as a strength and a weakness – his cynical father believes it will get him killed, while his mother believes it is a strength. The mother’s perspective is the one shared by the film, as his positivity grants him the power of storytelling.
The structuralist exploration of stories as something we must believe in is expressed strongly through the film’s take on religion. Life of Pi is, ostensibly, a highly religious film, though its religious preferences skew toward the polytheistic and the pluralistic. Even as a young child, Pi cannot choose a single religion to follow; he becomes simultaneously a Christian, a Muslim and a Hindu, never seeming to think these faiths contradict one another. In this way, Life of Pi is a polytheistic film: while these faiths are tested, and others question the validity of his faiths, Pi insists he “just wants to love God,” and his polytheism indicates his belief that spirituality lies beyond the strict dogmas and rituals that a single religion establishes for its followers (Bolton, 2013). During the main journey that comprises the majority of the film, Pi’s faith is tested, to be sure – no matter what he does right, God seems to keep taking things away from him. After the initial shipwreck, he has several animals who survive on the raft with him, but they are quickly taken care of by the elements and Richard Parker. Even the one bit of solace they receive during the trip – a brief reprieve on a man-shaped island – is soured when he discovers that the island itself is cannibalistic. At his lowest point, the young boy shouts to the heavens, “I lost my family! I lost everything! I surrender! What more do you want?” However, the experience merely strengthens his love for God by the end, as he is thankful for his survival and that of Richard Parker’s.
The relationship between man, nature and God is of primary importance to the film, with much of Pi’s growth coming at not just a newfound respect for nature, but of an understanding of his place in it. Because of Pi’s pantheistic perspective, his journey and his faith is expressed through nature itself. Pi’s God seems to be one of all-inclusiveness, involving all of nature, and the film carries through this elemental, visceral spirituality in its setting. Pi’s liferaft, with its constantly-shifting wooden planks and improvised inventions to protect and nourish Pi and Richard Parker are often contrasted with the typically-still waters of the Atlantic. Water is a very important symbol in the film; in a way, it provides a blank canvas upon which Pi can express his thoughts and tell his story – new story elements often leap from the water, from torrential waves to giant neon whales to a school of piranha. By setting the film as a man vs. nature story, Pi’s journey becomes much simpler and allegorical – Pi is fighting his faith in God (any of them) in the face of tragic events, learning to become more self-sufficient and use the things he has been given to survive. It is his test of faith, to see if he still believes in a God (nature) that can kill him in many different ways.
The religious nature of the film goes hand in hand with its subtext of the storytelling process, as filmmaking techniques are almost presentationally used to link the hero’s journey with making a film. The film’s visuals, including Academy Award-winning cinematography from Claudio Miranda and special effects from visual effects company Rhythm & Hues, contribute significantly to the themes of illusion and artifice involved in storytelling through their simple beauty and seeming artificiality (Castelli, 2012). Colors are bright and saturated, with neon used liberally in some of the more fantastical elements of the film (the whale, the acidic island at night). Though the CGI in this film is impressive, there is a rubberiness, an artifice that is almost certainly intentional, and goes hand in hand with the film’s suggestion that the events are not what really happened. The camera angles used in the film play up the epicness and spectacle of the tale Pi is telling; wide shots and sweeping vistas are given appropriate weight by Lee pulling the camera back and allowing us to see everything, alternating with shots of Sharma’s emotive face showing Pi’s reaction to the majesty around him. In the Japanese hospital near the end of the film, Pi offers an alternate explanation for his plight to sate the cynical insurance agents. This story is much more realistic, gritty, cynical and unfortunate – the animals are all various victims of the murderous cook (Gerard Depardieu), and Pi is Richard Parker, killing the creature that killed the other animals. By pointing out these 1:1 metaphors, the film asks us to engage with the creative process, and the visuals enhance that – the fantastical and outrageous nature of the CGI reminds us that this is a film we are watching, and that these things are not real. Conversely, the more realistic tale is told in a single shot, focusing on Pi’s face, not cutting once as the camera slowly pushes in on the disillusioned boy as he flatly recounts this alternate account.
In conclusion, the structuralist elements of Life of Pi paint a story that is about stories – filmmaking is used as a subtext to show the importance of hoping, dreaming and believing to the human condition, regardless of what harsher realities may also be present. Pi’s story follows the typical ‘hero’s journey,’ a story about coming of age and finding himself amongst a cruel and heartless world, learning his place within it – by embellishing this story with those fantastical elements, the structure of these kinds of stories (and the process of assuming religious faith) are laid bare for the audience. To that end, Pi’s (and the film’s) sentiment that it does not matter which story is true, because the one with the tiger is “the better story,” plays into the film’s celebration of storytelling and filmmaking. When Yann picks the Richard Parker story as the one he would rather believe, Pi replies, “Thank you. And so it goes with God.”
References
Bolton, C. (2013). Life of Pi. Journal of Religion & Film, 17(1), 42.
Castelli, J. C. (2012). The Making of Life of Pi: A Film, a Journey. Harper Design.
Detmer, D. (2013). The Philosopher as Filmmaker. A Companion to Woody Allen, 460.
Lee, A. (dir.) (2012). Life f Pi. Perf. Suraj Sherma, Irffan Khan, Rafe Spall. 20th Century Fox.
Lyden, J. (2003). Film as religion: myths, morals, rituals. NYU Press.
Propp, V. (1928). Morphology of the folktale.
