There is a general perception that an artist is responsible for fighting for a cause, even if it is in their own small way. There’s the argument that all art is inherently political, and even if it isn’t making clear statements, there is something that motivates an individual to create something, regardless of the reason. Some have made it their entire life’s work to bring about change through their art, as we can see in the example of Nisha Pahuja, who has dedicated almost her entire career to telling stories that empower women, as well as giving them the chance to have their stories told, particularly from her native India. One of her most celebrated works is the lovely The World Before Her, which focuses on the lives of two girls in India who have very different aspirations, but the active desire to achieve what they desire, despite external forces getting in the way. Over a decade later, she has returned with another film, albeit one that has a far more negative subject at the heart of the story. According to recent reports, over 90% of acts of sexual violence in India go unreported, usually being dismissed by village councils who view this as an unnecessary issue that could only bring controversy to their idyllic existence. Pahuja uses this shocking statistic and even more worrying trend as the foundation for To Kill a Tiger, a poignant and shattering documentary centring on the life of a young girl as she confronts the aftermath of being raped. The director follows this girl and her family as they fight for justice, not realising the obstacles that stand in their way – whether pressure from their own community that implores them to not escalate this matter, or the often chaotic nature of the bureaucracy that is designed to help people, but often proves to be too much of a frustration for many who need its help the most. Complex and terrifying, but also profoundly moving, Pahuja makes one of the most important films of the year for several reasons.

A documentary has many purposes, primarily centring around the desire to teach the audience something or convey some important piece of information that is examined over the course of however long a filmmaker is given to tell a story. However, a film like To Kill a Tiger doesn’t merely exist to tell a story, but rather to provoke a reaction. It is impossible that anyone watching this film will not feel some combination of deep sadness and apoplectic rage at what we are witnessing on screen. It is staggering to believe that even well into the 21st century, we continue to live in a world where such outdated beliefs against women are not only present, but actively encouraged by some communities. It is easy for us to view equality as something far more common when looking at it from a Western perspective, but considering a third-world viewpoint, we find that these same regressive, antiquated beliefs still run rampant. Pahuja is not solely driven by the desire to see justice for the subject of this film, but rather for all women in India (and the world as a whole) that face sexual violence, and are forced into silence as a result of the threats to their safety and the demand that they sit placidly in the background, told to keep quiet or risk facing the consequences that come with going against generations of traditions. Once we remove the layers of privilege many of us possess and start to look at the stories of people outside our own community, the sooner we can start to develop the empathy to the communities that are not fortunate enough to have the resources to seek justice, or even the human rights required to actually be considered equal to those who have been responsible for maintaining a brutal, sexist ideology for centuries. The anger and despair that comes out of this film is astonishing, and Pahuja never intends to soften the blow that this story makes – if anything, she amplifies it to the point of being deeply scarring.

Having this story told by someone who has firsthand knowledge of the culture makes a profound difference, and allows To Kill a Tiger to be far less of a case of an outsider making their way into a culture in which they don’t have any experience. Instead, Pahuja uses her own knowledge of the culture in which she was raised to provoke some very serious questions. She is not an active figure in this film, instead using the more traditional method of just observing the daily routine of these people as they fight for justice in a country that does not view women as equal – perhaps not in terms of legal definitions, but the socio-cultural structure makes it clear that there is an obvious division, which is precisely what she is exploring over the course of this shocking film. We follow the protagonist and her family, particularly her parents, as they seek justice. It is a long process, and one that started many years ago (and as the final credits state, the men responsible for the sexual assault are still awaiting trial), but represents something that has been happening in India for centuries, and which continues to harbour outdated views. To date, India remains one of the few remaining countries that does not see marital rape as a crime, and sexual assault, while not necessarily accepted, is far less of a priority. The film steps away from the legal scenario and instead focuses on the social aspect, looking at the lives of the people impacted by this heinous crime, showing their frustrations and the challenges they face trying to seek justice in vivid detail. It’s harsh and challenging, but vitally important, and those moments where we feel profoundly uncomfortable are imperative to conveying the underlying message of this film.

While some of her personal politics may not be impeccable, there is a reason why Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s rousing cry of “we should all be feminists” has struck such a chord annd become a major point of discussion around who can be involved in this movement, which has essentially come down to the fact that anyone who cares about the rights of girls and women should loudly proclaim themselves as a feminist. This is not a movement exclusive to women, and instead the only way change can come about is if every one of us strives to make a difference, regardless of who we are or what our personal background may be. It is not lost on anyone that one of the major figures that helps bring about justice in this story is a man who has taken on the title of being a women’s rights activist, a powerful statement for any professional lawyer in a country like India, where patriarchal standards are still heavily part of the status quo. Yet, it’s not only the men who bring about the change – without the bravery of the subject herself and her family, who decided to put themselves in a precarious situation by speaking out against a major injustice and seeking some kind of resolution, including bringing the culprits to justice and allowing this young woman the best chance to lead a normal life. It’s a powerful film, and one that keeps everything straightforward, but has layers of meaning that contribute to our deeper understanding of the major social and legal issues that still prevent India from having anything close to some kind of equality. Its not an easy film, but it is essential, and should be viewed and discussed by people of every background, since despite its cultural specificity, there are universal themes present here that need to continue factoring into the daily discourse, in the hopes that genuine change will come about some way or another, even if it just starts with a single person fighting against what they perceive as a major injustice.