Film Review: Life of Pi

How deep into a story can you travel before the line between reality and symbolism blurs? Ang Lee directs the 2012 blockbuster, Life of Pi, which dives into the complexity of storytelling, religion, and human nature by juxtaposing two fantastical stories, allowing the reader to choose which one he prefers.

Before beginning his story, Pi – played by Suraj Sharma – explains his own character, beginning with his name. Piscine was named after a famous French pool, but after being ridiculed, he gave himself a name that brought respect from his peers. He named himself Pi, the Greek letter representing an irrational number. After explaining his name, he explains the second most notable aspect of his character: his observance of three different religions. He tells the story of how he came to follow Hinduism, Christianity, and Islam, and ends with his father pointing him towards science and rational thinking. The irony in this is that he has named himself Pi, the most famous irrational number. It hints that it isn’t in Pi’s nature to think rationally, effectively setting up Pi’s unique character for the rest of the film.

Pi narrates the entire movie through his storytelling; he tells the tale of his journey across the Pacific Ocean after losing his family on a shipwreck, and his coexistence on a life raft with four animals. Once he gets to the end of his story, however, he shakes the foundation of what he has built by uncovering the true, factual story. Though storytelling gives him a more objective perspective of what took place instead of the extremely subjective, first-hand account that he truly did receive, Pi’s first story is a different kind of true; it captures the emotional and psychological turmoil that the second story cannot.

A notable part of the plot line was Pi’s relationship to Richard Parker, beginning even before the shipwreck. As a child, Pi was extremely fascinated by all animals, specifically Richard Parker. In the beginning of the movie, he attempts to feed Richard Parker through the bars of the cage, luring him in order to see him up close. It’s a mystical scene, watching Richard Parker, a fearsome and beautifully animated Bengal tiger, slowly and quietly approach Pi to eat from his hand; Pi peers directly into his eyes and the tiger stares back.

The moment is harshly interrupted when Pi’s father comes running into the room to pull Pi back. Pi says that he could see the soul of the animal in his eyes. His father scolds him, telling him firmly that what Pi was seeing was nothing more than his own emotions being reflected back. Pi seems to absorb this lesson, because the next instance we see him directly dealing with Richard Parker is on the boat, and the brief comfort they previously shared in the zoo has now completely been replaced by fear. Pi’s first instinct during the shipwreck when seeing Richard Parker trying to get into the boat is to push him away and scream. He was taught to fear the tiger over the years, even though as a child he had seen that the tiger was not to be feared. Repeatedly, Pi looks into the eyes of the tiger but then moves away; he can no longer see the soul of the tiger like he used to as a child. This may be evidence of Pi beginning to address the cruelty of human beings; his loss of faith in the humanity and good nature of humans is displayed by his wariness of Richard Parker, the juxtaposition of himself.

The cinematography of this film was almost spiritual; in countless scenes, the water would become transparent and the sea creatures, who took residence right beneath the surface, would glow and radiate with color. The water could even be seen as a separate character, or at least aspect, of the movie. At certain points, such as after the shipwreck, the ocean was violent; its anger was captured aurally, in extraordinary crashing sounds, as well as visually, in terrifying and breathtaking waves. Further, the development of both Pi and Richard Parker was a visual aspect of the film; Richard Parker’s eyes seem to contain understanding and growth as he continues to spend time with Pi and learns to respect him. The depth contained in the eyes of an animated tiger is impressive, and so is the consistently increasing weariness and wisdom that grows in Sharma’s eyes. It is this partnered growth, propelled by this visual evidence, that unites the two characters and solidifies their companionship in the film. 

People didn’t think that such a layered, symbolic book could justly be adapted into a film; Ang Lee proved them wrong. The fantastic visual work of this film intensely enhances the spirituality and magic of Pi’s storytelling, beckoning the reader to search, just as persistently as Pi searches, for meaning in the middle of the Pacific ocean.

By: Preeya Ninan