The Pradeeps of Pittsburgh Review: Prime Video’s Indian Immigrant Comedy Plays on Familiar Stereotypes
Whether it’s cinema, television, standup performances, or the millions of memes plaguing the Internet, the stereotypical Indian family has always been an object of ridicule. The moms are too controlling, food is uncontrollably spicy, curfews are annoying, privacy is obsolete, academic excellence flows through generations, and well… the list is too long to summarise here. But if you want a catalogue of these, Prime Video might have just what you’re looking for. Its latest series, The Pradeeps of Pittsburgh, is an unhinged compilation of these comical familial laws that Indians supposedly stick to and gives an unabashed 228-minute-long commentary on the same.
The show also adressess the awkward nature of conversations around intimacy in Indian families
The eight-episode-long series follows a typical Indian family, The Pradeeps, who have moved to Pittsburgh in the United States –– the land of opportunities, as they call it. The family is headed by Mahesh, the optimistic engineer father who made everyone move across the planet for a SpaceX contract, and Sudha, the brain-surgeon mother who’s having a hard time getting her medical license in the strict-on-rules new land. The kids include teenager Bhanu, the eldest daughter who is desperate to fit in the new culture; Kamal, an introverted and shy young man with a bunch of phobias; and Vinod, an optimistic junior high schooler who views the world through his rose-tinted glasses and stays positive even when being bullied.
This, however, isn’t merely a story of an Indian family having a tough time adjusting to a foreign land. The Pradeeps are also the prime suspects in an ongoing investigation over a mysterious crime involving their Christian neighbours –– revealed later in the show. Now under the scanner of immigration services, the family is being interrogated over the serious crime, with a possible risk of deportation looming.
The entire series is a sequence of flashback narratives with the two officers in charge trying to break these tough nuts into confessing. The Pradeeps are confronted in groups, trios, couples, and even in isolation, but the brown family couldn’t be more disinterested, let alone be intimidated, by the colourful investigative tactics.
The show is driven by the nonchalance of its characters and their wildly different perspectives for every incident. While Sudha might recall a snowstorm causing their car to slide in slow motion before bursting into flames –– “We Indians like to add a little masala to our stories” is how she’d justify the exaggeration –– Mahesh would describe the same day as a positive one that brought a fresh start to their lives. The oscillating narratives extend to the neighbours as well, who have their own twisted versions, adding to the confusion.
Every version seems to be the revelatory truth until the next person drops in with a totally opposite version. The show even attempts to portray the humorous similarities between Indian mothers and religious Christian mothers at one point.
The episodes are short, crisply written, and transition effortlessly. The overall tone stays light and humorous. Even when dealing with grave themes like racism, the show doesn’t turn serious at any point. Pradeeps of Pittsburgh chugs along like a mindless high-school drama where the protagonists haven’t yet met the harsher realities of life.
Ashwin’s character is fascinated by the comfortable lives of US garbagemen, contrasting with their malnourished counterparts in his home country
The show, however, comes with a string of overly used stereotypes and controversial dialogues and analogies that might offend a certain people. For instance, in one scene, Bhanu describes India as a “supermodel with diarrhoea”. Her explanation? Well, the country is beautiful to look at but doesn’t offer much to a female teenager because of societal restrictions and curfews. In another scene, we see a disabled white kid mocking a 500 rupee note and calling Gandhi an anorexic Charlie Brown. There are also references to a shy Indian boy getting aroused after brushing past a cow udder. No wonder the series isn’t being aggressively publicised in India.
While a little harmless humour doesn’t hurt, when a show is premiering globally, it comes with the responsibility of balancing representation to some extent. While I am not exactly calling for a monochromatic picture with just the nation’s achievements, or a singularly patriotic narrative that paints the country as the greatest on the planet –– let’s leave that to our supremely talented politicians –– a little more sensitivity could have gone a long way. I don’t want to dig up the debate about art and cinema influencing the audience’s perspective, but for viewers who have never visited India, these representations can build a certain narrative. As someone who lives in the country in question, I can assure you we don’t get ready in glittery sarees and sherwanis just to go out for a plate of panipuri, as the Pradeeps might have you believe.
The Pradeeps of Pittsburgh isn’t the first American show to opt for this ill-informed portrayal. The Big Bang Theory, perhaps one of the most popular sitcoms of its time, resorted to certain harmful stereotypes about Indians, too. Raj, one of the main characters in the show, couldn’t speak to women, relied on his father for his expenses, and sought to control his sister’s love life –– justifying his actions with ancient scriptures that declare women as a property of her father or brother. All this despite being a gifted astrophysicist and a man of science. It’s time we left these stereotypical representations in the last century, where they belong, and opt for a more realistic portrayal.
The Pradeeps of Pittsburgh, however, works as light-hearted comedy about the familiar troubles of the Indian diaspora in the US –– nothing more. The show is full of brain-rotting and superficial jokes around sex, religion, parenting, and everything brown, and while some stereotypes are exaggerated beyond reason, an Indian audience will easily find moments of relatability. But if you’re easily offended, or often finds yourself engaged in heated arguments on Twitter (yes, we know it’s called X now) with strangers, and have a keen interest in cancel culture, you should probably skip this one. That being said, I love my nation dearly. Please don’t cancel me for recommending this series.
Rating: 6/10
