On The Big Sick, An Insightful Meditation On Religion And Family, And Master Of None

A not-so-traditional romantic comedy, The Big Sick is as much about the families of the central couple (based on the real romantic history of comedian and actor Kumail Nanjiani and his now wife and writing partner Emily V. Gordon) as it is about their rocky courtship. (It's also very, very funny.)

The Big Sick is the story of a first generation migrant's internal conflict: how to reconcile the expectations of his devout Muslim family and his growing affection for the "wrong type" of woman, who also happens to be in a coma. Slight spoilers ahead for The Big Sick and Netflix's Master of None...

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While the A-story of The Big Sick follows Kumail Nanjiani (playing a younger version of himself) bonding with his comatose ex-girlfriend's parents (a never-better Ray Romano and superb Holly Hunter), the film's quieter B-story, in which Kumail's own family, unaware Kumail is dating outside of the faith, search for a proper Pakistani wife for him, becomes a powerful examination of a nonreligious immigrant coming to terms with breaking from the expectations of his parents' faith.

At one point in the film, after Kumail's parents discover his dirty secret (he's fallen in love with a white woman and has no plans on marrying any of the nice Muslim matches they've dutifully arranged for him), their entire relationship comes to a head. Azmat and Sharmeen had given up everything to come to this country, they remind him, in order to give Kumail and his brother a better life than the one they had in Pakistan. Kumail's father had to re-do his masters studies in America, and this is how he repays them? They truly believe that after all of their generosity and selflessness, Kumail is essentially spitting in their faces by disavowing the tradition of marrying within the faith. And the fact that he hasn't prayed in years, instead playing video games in his parents' home when they think he's praying, is just icing on the betrayal cake.

Kumail, grief-stricken, having gone through hell awaiting Emily's recovery, defends himself more bluntly than he might have under more ordinary circumstances: "what was the point of coming to America and living here if we're going to pretend we still live in Pakistan?" (I'm paraphrasing.) It's a valid critique of what he sees as unrealistic, and frankly nonsense, expectations. Kumail cannot fathom the idea that dating outside of the faith is not simply a disappointment to his parents, but a total rejection of his blood and everything they've given him. His parents apprehensively put up with his stand-up comedy thing (Azmat and Sharmeen are not fans, they think Kumail should just be on SNL if he wants to be successful -- though they'd much prefer he take the LSAT), but this, they warn him, this unforgivable offense will lose him his family.

Watching The Big Sick, I was reminded of a second season episode of Aziz Ansari's Master of None titled "Religion." While Ansari and co-creator Alan Yang often craft nuanced narratives that consider Big ideas -- diverse representation in film and television, immigrants' struggles and assimilation, internalized misogyny -- with grace, "Religion" was a case of circling a difficult and compelling subject without ever making much of an impression. While ruminating on similar concepts as The Big Sick's religion arc, "Religion" mostly focuses on Dev (Ansari) and his cousin's love of pork as an entry point to a story about their experience deviating away from their parents' idea of a "good Muslim." The story lacks the specificity of Kumail's parents' distraught protestations; Dev's parents (played by Ansari's own) don't seem shocked or even all that surprised by his eating habits and lack of prayer, but rather they'd prefer he not partake in his meat-filled rituals in front of them or his devout aunt and uncle. But within this, "Religion" ends up drawing a parallel to another MoN episode "Thanksgiving": the act of adapting appearances to fall in line with the norms of one's family and the self discovery that can blossom from knowing yourself and taking pleasure in life.

"Thanksgiving" is a stunning journey of one woman's coming out story, told over two decades of the titular holiday. It focuses on the relationship between a gay woman, Denise, and her mother, the struggle between wanting your child to be happy and wanting them to have an "easy" life (whatever that is), and the struggle between wanting your parents to love you and wanting your parents to know and see the real you. "Thanksgiving" is an exquisitely executed story of mutual understanding, Denise's mother eventually coming to a place of tolerance, a lesson in compassion that can often take a painful number of years. About mid-way through The Big Sick, Holly Hunter's Beth regales Kumail with the story of how she and Romano's Terry fell in love: he was a New Yorker visiting the South, she was his waitress. She had never met anyone like him, and neither had her family, who immediately and passionately loathed Beth's new beau. But eventually, she recalls, they just "got over it." It's a familiar tale: accepting someone's choice to love who they want because it makes them happy and whole.

The Big Sick is (clearly) not the first film or television show to grapple with a kind of forbidden love and it won't be the last. But it is -- perhaps in part by having a Brown romantic lead, an unfortunate rarity in film and TV -- casually groundbreaking. The film's culture clash, between both Emily's parents and Kumail and Kumail's secular Muslim identity and his parents' devout values, is a realistic and unflinching look into our own biases, judgments, and battles with change. In a world that continually struggles with cultural differences and religious acceptance, we need more stories like this one, in which the Muslim representation is so intrinsic it can almost seem like an afterthought. It's not; it's just part of what makes The Big Sick remarkable.