Bikram: Yogi, Guru, Predator

As a cinematic achievement, “Bikram” is fairly tame; as a mass-media call to action, it’s an essential movie of the moment.

Bikram: Yogi, Guru, Predator is more than an indictment of a man. Orner cross-examines the community that protected a bully for four decades, ever since Bikram pranced before TV cameras flexing his pecs for a cheering audience.

This haunting documentary is a powerful addition to a growing body of post #MeToo films — including “Finding Neverland” and “Surviving R. Kelly” — that show how cultural power is accumulated and weaponized.

Orner succeeds at evoking a deep sense of empathy for the survivors of Choudhury’s abuse, and although that’s not the same thing as justice, perhaps it’s a place to start.

Like the other famous current example of the mercurial, dimwitted bullying, sexually abusive misogynist/narcissist, we know the True Believers’ epiphany won’t be something they welcome.

Director Eva Orner makes her story both about the predator and the victims, and delivers an appropriately cut-and-dry case that Bikram more than deserves that third title. But she connects these sensibilities with an approach that too often feels like an info dump, instead of a gripping mediation on the larger themes and harrowing stories that inspired it.

I was turned off immediately by Netflix wallpaper and ads that show practitioners bowing down to Bikram Choudhury. Those who dig the practice for its health benefits pay not a second of attention to Bikram, yet Netflix would have you buy into it being a cult. Spoiler Alert: it’s not a cult. In the last 11 years, Bikram has been largely dismissed and I find it highly offensive that Netflix insinuates its (mostly) women practitioners has fallen into Choudhury’s influence. It’s a highly sexist conceit and click-bait. I attend all women-owned studios where Choudhury has been long stripped from the signage, yet the power of 26 and 2 continues to take flight.