**Spoiler Alert**
Director: Matt Brown/Starring: Dev Patel, Jeremy Irons, Toby Jones, Devika Bhise, Jeremy Northam and Stephen Fry
The famous Indian mathematician; Srinivasa Ramanujan, whose contributions to his field are comparable to the greatest mathematical minds, is a man who truly deserves a biographical film. But director Matt Brown's The Man Who Knew Infinity; based on the book The Man Who Knew Infinity: A Life of the Genius Ramanjan, calls out for a documentary format rather than a narrative to tell his incredible story.
The problems with films about geniuses, whether they be scientists, artists or writers, deal with the issue of communicating accomplishments to a movie audience who may not grasp the implications of said genius's intellectual or creative works. I for one am no mathematician and haven't even a rudimentary knowledge of what the personalities in Brown's film are on about. This in itself isn't necessarily a problem; we can thank the filmmakers for not condescending to audience or dumbing down the material to the point of oversimplification. But for a narrative film about one of mankind's mathematical giants, a little elucidation wouldn't hurt. This is where a few talking heads in a biographical documentary might help a lay person (like myself) understand the mathematician's work. I don't need much, nor does an intelligent audience who find Ramanujan's work intriguing. Unless the filmmaker can effectively articulate genius without the reliable method of having characters stand around, offering explication, like Salieri in Amadeus, our conception of said genius is incomplete. In Brown's film, we know Ramanujan is someone special because a gaggle of academics frequently tell us his work is amazing. We grasp the significance of his work but the details of his ideas remain frustratingly beyond our reach (unless one is a mathematician).
In the film, we meet Ramanujan (Dev Patel); a poor laborer struggling to earn a living in the second decade of early twentieth century Madras, India. Ramanujan's passion for mathematics is readily apparent as we see him draw equations in chalk on the stony floor of a Hindu temple. He carries around a tattered book of his work, which he shows to his employer at his accounting job where he serves as a clerk. Always eager to submit his work to someone who might understand its importance, he presents his journal to his boss; Sir Francis Spring (Stephan Fry); who is initially skeptical of Rmanujan's work until he too recognizes the young man's exceptional talent. Spring helps Ramanujan along by submitting his work to the famed mathematician G.H. Hardy (Jeremy Irons) at Trinity College at Cambridge University.
Hardy and colleague J.E. Littlewood (Toby Jones) are taken with Ramanujan's work but the lack of proofs in his equations prove to be a red flag. Troubling them also is Ramanujan's lack of formal education and academic credentials. But recognizing the singular brilliance of his work, they invite him to Cambridge. The extraordinary opportunity isn't lost on Ramanujan. But leaving India for Great Britain poses problems for him at home. Pursuing his passion means leaving his wife and mother, whose rivalrous claims for his affection do him little good.
But Ramanujan finds other problems awaiting him at Cambridge, where a bigoted student body and faculty await him. He also finds Hardy to be emotionally distant though Littlewood proves to be more welcoming and helpful.
The scenes at Cambridge show us a battle of wills, methods and faith as Hardy takes exception to the lack of proofs in Ramanujan's work. An intuitive mathematician, Ramanujan grows impatient with Hardy's frequent demands to back his work, which becomes an ongoing bone of contention. While Hardy expects Ramanujan to attend classes, the Indian prodigy demands his work be published.
But other issues involving school-life prove to be difficult for him to surmount. Bigoted behavior by students and a professor who becomes incensed when Ramanujan excitedly but ill-advisedly takes to the blackboard during class to solve a math problem, only to incur his instructor's wrath after class. Being separated from his wife and living alone on campus contribute to his adversity, as does the outbreak of WWI, which turns Cambridge into a hospital for injured soldiers.
As he continues to submit work to Hardy and Littlewood, Ramanujan finds his intuition has limits, for errors are found in his work involving prime numbers.
Hardy finds some of his colleagues are less than pleased with his treatment of Ramanujan. Bertrand Russell (Jeremy Northam) chides Hardy for not allowing Ramanujan to run free with his work. The tensions between Hardy and Ramanujan mount as the former's atheism and celibacy clash with the latter's profound religiousness and his life beyond math, namely his love for his wife and mother. Though Hardy is resolute in his atheism, he finds Ramanujan's love for Hinduism to be equally passionate. An interesting moment in the film is an exchange between the two men when Hardy asks Ramanujan where his mathematical insights come from. He tells Hardy a Hindu god places the equations on his tongue.
In the film's third act, Hardy and Ramanujan collaborate on what is known as Partition Function, or as it is referred to in the film; Partitions. Ramanujan and Hardy's project quickly draws incredulous reactions from the college's math faculty, who see their work as something impossible. What Partitions are remains a mystery to me and probably will to most film-goers. But at least we know it is something monumental.
As Hardy and Ramanujan feverishly chase their goal, personal problems begin to dog the Indian autodidact. The war creates a shortage of food while the English cold creates an unforeseen vexation for a man used to the warmth of Indian climes. And as Ramanujan's homesickness and his longing for his wife prevail the racist culture of his environment persists. A group of British soldiers, taking umbrage to his presence, beat and kick him, leaving him bruised. The assault precedes a angry confrontation with Hardy, who he scolds for deliberately ignoring his wounds.
More troubling is the diagnoses of tuberculosis a doctor gives Ramanujan after his cough becomes more pronounced. In spite of Hardy's optimistic outlook, Ramanujan is more pessimistic about his health. The illness makes time spent on Partitions more precious.
It isn't spoiling the story to say the two men eventually succeed, earning the admiration and awe of their fellow mathematicians. Equally impressive is Ramanujan's acceptance to the Royal Society.
When Ramanujan returns to India to be with his wife and mother, Hardy expects to see him in a year's time, but the audience knows he has most likely seen the last of his colleague and friend. The end subtitles confirm this, as we're given information about Ramanujan's work, which stands as a towering achievement in the annals of mathematics. We also learn something about a lost notebook that was uncovered in the 1970s'. To give the audience some perspective, we're informed the notebook's significance is something akin to finding Beethoven's 10th symphony.
The main story is ill-served by two weak subplots; Ramanujan's relationship with his wife and mother and the strained relationship between the two women, which really do nothing to bolster the main story. Hardy and Ramanujan's relationship isn't as dramatic as it should be. Though we often hear Hardy's colleagues needle him about the impersonal distance he maintains with his collaborator, I never really felt it or realized it was much of a problem. Given the surroundings and the prestige a legendary university like Cambridge confers on its students and faculty, I would expect any student to not be emotionally coddled in such a an intellectually demanding environment. This seems like manufactured, touchy-feely stuff grafted on to the story and characters. Though Ramanujan and Hardy have disparate thoughts on religion, the movie also devises a religion vs atheism dynamic, which boils down to faith and God good; atheism and reason bad. Hardy's atheism is seen as an extension of his cold, emotionally distant demeanor while Ramanujan's religious devotion is supposed to be part of his warm demeanor and a key to his mathematical insights.
In a narrative biopic about a mathematician, we hardly need delve into equations in minute detail but Brown could have thrown us a bone with a working explanation of Partitions, just as Ryan Gosling attempts to explain the abstruse minutiae behind housing collapse in The Big Short.
Mostly everything about Brown's film seems perfunctory though Patel and Irons at least make the drama simmer with their affecting performances.
The film gets a few facts wrong in the film. Littlewood points to a tree on the Trinity College grounds and says "that's where Newton sat when he devised his theory of gravitation." This is niggling but Newton actually had his serendipitous moment on his mother's farm. Also, the film leads us to believe Ramanujan's death was caused by complications arising from tuberculosis when in fact it was mostly caused by a parasitic infection he picked up in Madras earlier in his life. But I guess tuberculosis always makes for a more romantic death.
Ramanujan's story is more fascinating than Brown's film. As aforementioned, his story would be more thoroughly told in a documentary. What is the impact of his work? How is he regarded by contemporaries? Is he really in Newton's league as a great mind? A narrative film can only tell us so much. The Man Who Knew Infinity is a worthwhile introduction to its subject but not an absorbing drama. A man as incredible as Srinivasa Ramanujan needs more than an middling art house flick to tell his story. Maybe something more powerful is to come.
