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10-14-2005, 08:00 AM
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Making of Pather Panchali
1950, Search for a Producer On his return in late 1950, with absolutely no experience in movie-making, Ray collected a group of young men to work as technicians. Subrata Mitra was the cinematographer; he had been a still photographer and had to coaxed into taking up the assignment. Anil Choudhury became the Production Controller, Bansi Chandra Gupta the art director. While looking for financial backers, he approached widow of Bibhuti Bhusan Banerjee, the writer of Pather Panchali for film rights. She admired Ray's illustrations for the book and works of his father and grandfather. She gave her oral assurance and retained her faith in Satyajit Ray despite a better financial offer. To explain his concept for the film to the potential producers, Ray had a small note-book, filled with sketches, dialogue and the treatment. This script along with another sketchbook that illustrated the key dramatic moments of the film were greeted with curiosity by producers. While many of them were impressed, none came forward to produce the film. Later, Ray donated this script and the wash sketches to the Cinémathèque Française, Paris. Many offered advise against shooting in outdoor locations as most films were made in studios at that time. He was told by many that rain sequences could not be shot in the actual rains but required a well equipped studio. At the earliest opportunity, Ray rushed out with a 16 mm camera to test-shoot monsoon rains. About two years were spent in vain to find a producer. Meanwhile, undeterred Ray had begun assembling the cast and looking for locations. 1952, Cattle eat up the scene Unable to find a producer, Ray decided that unless he could prove his bona fides by producing a few sequences of the film, he was not likely to find financial backing. He borrowed money against his insurance policy and from a few relatives and friends. The shooting was to be done on Sundays due to his job at D.J. Keymer. On 27 October 1952, he set out to take the first shot. The scene was the famous 'discovery of train by Apu and his sister Durga in the field of Kaash flowers'. "One day's work with camera and actors taught me more than all the dozen books," Ray would write later. The following Sunday when they returned to shoot, to their horror they discovered that the Kaash flowers had been feasted upon by a herd of cattle. He had to wait for the next season of flowers to complete the scene. 1952, Casting and locations Meanwhile, efforts to find a backer and working on other production requirements and casting continued. The cast was a mix of professional actors and a few with no prior experience in acting. Only Subir Banerjee who played Apu, Karuna Banerjee who played Apu's mother, and the villagers who played other smaller roles, had no prior experience of acting. The rest had either acted in films or theatre. Chunibala Devi, an 80-year old, retired theatre actress was cast to play Indir Thakrun. Boral, a small village on the outskirts of Calcutta was to be the major location. 1952, Faith in realistic cinema gets stronger A still from Bimal Roy's Do Bigha Jamin, 1953 During this time, Bimal Roy had made Do Bigha Jamin (Two Acres of Land), in India; The film had a few songs, shot largely on locations. It was about the struggle of a peasant family. The film was in the tradition of neo-realist cinema with natural acting (though using professional actors, including Balraj Sahni who pioneered natural acting in mainstream Indian films). The film won the Prix International at the Cannes Festival, 1954. Do Bigha Jamin and Kurosawa's Rashoman, further strengthened Satyajit Ray's faith in the kind of film he was making. Pather Panchali was to be shot in sequence as Ray had realized that he would be learning as they went along. He had to discover for himself, "how to catch the hushed stillness of dusk in a Bengali village when the wind drops and turns the ponds into sheets of glass, dappled by the leaves of Saluki and Shale, and the smoke from the ovens settles in wispy trails over the landscape and the plaintive blows on conch shells from homes far and near are joined by the chorus of crickets which rises as the light falls, until all one sees are the stars in the sky, and the stars that blink and swirl in the thickets." 1953, A producer at last Ray filming Pather Panchali İBansi Chandragupta He found a producer, Ana Dutta, who provided some funds with a promise of more after seeing the results and releasing his latest film. Ray took one month's leave without pay to shoot a few more sequences. The shooting began in the village. Ray recalls this period as a great learning experience. The film appeared to be shaping up well. It was not long before the funds ran out. The producer's latest film had been a box-office disaster so he was unable to provide any more finances. However, since the arrangements had already been made for shoot, some of Ray's wife, Bijoya's jewelry was pawned and shooting continued for a few days more. Ray was back to work at Kaymer. The footage was later edited to about 4000 ft. Ray approached many producers with the edited footage and was turned down. Ray's production manager, Anil Choudhury suggested approaching Dr. B. C. Roy, the Chief Minister of West Bengal for help. The government agreed to fund. On September 8, 1953, a son and the only child, Sandip was born. 1954, Shooting resumes after a long break Ray rehearsing 80-year old Chunibala Devi İBansi Chandragupta After a break of almost a year, the shooting resumed in the early part of 1954. The funding from the government meant that the money would come in installments. Before each installment, the accounts had to be submitted and cleared by the government. This would often take up to a month. Later, Ray would describe it as a miracle that while making the film, "One, Apu's voice did not break. Two, Durga did not grow up. Three, Indir Thakrun did not die." In the autumn of 1954, Monroe Wheeler, a director of Museum of Modern Art (MOMA), New York was in Calcutta for putting together some Indian highlights for an exhibition. In a chance meeting, Ray showed some stills of Pather Panchali. Wheeler offered to hold a world premier at MOMA. About six months later, John Huston had come to India in search of locations for 'The man who would be King'. He had been asked by Monroe Wheeler to check the progress of the film. After seeing about 15-20 minute long silent rough-cut, John Huston gave rave reviews to Wheeler. The film was scheduled to premier at MOMA. 1955, Breakneck post-production Ray wanted Pandit Ravi Shankar, renowned Sitar maestro, to compose music for the film. Ravi Shankar, due to his tight touring schedule, was able to see only about half of the film and recorded the music in a non-stop session of about eleven hours. "It was a marathon session and left us exhausted but happy, because most of the music sounded wonderful", Ray would write in 'My Years with Apu', many years later. Due to shortage of time, however, Ravi Shankar could not provide music for a few sequences. Subrata Mitra, Ray's cinematographer, devised music for the sweetmeat seller as he goes peddling his sweets. Mitra also played sitar for a sequence. To meet the MOMA deadline, Ray and his editor worked ten days and nights continuously in the final stage of post-production. The first print of Pather Panchali came out at night before it was to be dispatched. There was no time or money for the subtitles. Weeks after the scheduled screening at MOMA, a letter came form MOMA describing at length how well the film had been received by the audience. A page from the script of Pather Panchali İRay Family Apu Durga Indir Thakrun and Durga İTeknica Sketches by Ray, Durga and Apu discover a train İRay Family Durga & Apu in a field of Kaash flowers İTeknica Chunibala Devi, an 80-year old, retired theatre actress played Indir Thakrun Durga & her parents İTeknica Apu İTeknica It was a marathon session and left us exhausted but happy, because most of the music sounded wonderful. - Satyajit Ray, about music recording for Pather Panchali, 1955 |
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12-07-2005, 08:00 AM
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Interview with One of Ray's stellar collaborators, on One of Ray's best films. Acting by the ensemble cast is uniformly good. Soumitra Chatterjee was good (and charismatic), but it's fair to say that the women (Sharmila Tagore and Kaberi Bose) steal the show remarkably in far lesser footage. Except perhaps Simi Garewal as tribal girl, Duli - rather perplexing why Ray would cast her in one of the decidedly "non-acting" parts. Why hire her if you want to paint the whole body dark. Rather unnerving. |
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05-28-2006, 08:00 AM
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07-16-2006, 08:00 AM
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"I have now come to the point where I use less and less music.Music is something that I always feel is..er... up to a point dispensible element. One uses music more with the public in mind than anything else, because one is afraid that the public will not be able to ...uh... 'get' the mood of a certain scene and you want to underline it so they don't miss it, which is unfortunate, but you have to do it." - 1984 interview (Interviewer Shyam Benegal) How did people like Kubrick, Kurosawa look at music in their films? |
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08-26-2010, 03:48 AM
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#5 |
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Satyajit Ray: The finest film maker.
Let us talk about greatest film maker from India in this thread.
Critics on Ray Akira Kurosawa, Film Director "The quiet but deep observation, understanding and love of the human race, which are characteristic of all his films, have impressed me greatly. I feel that he is a "giant" of the movie industry." " Not to have seen the cinema of Ray means existing in the world without seeing the sun or the moon." "I can never forget the excitement in my mind after seeing it (Pather Panchali). It is the kind of cinema that flows with the serenity and nobility of a big river. People are born, live out their lives, and then accept their deaths. Without the least effort and without any sudden jerks, Ray paints his picture, but its effect on the audience is to stir up deep passions. How does he achieve this? There is nothing irrelevant or haphazard in his cinematographic technique. In that lies the secret of its excellence." - As reported in Eksan, 1987 (Translation of remarks made in Moscow in 1975) Academy Award Citation, 1992 "In recognition of his rare mastery of the art of motion pictures, and of his profound humanitarian outlook, which has had an indelible influence on filmmakers and audiences throughout the world. Amartya Sen, Nobel Laureate Economics "The work of Satyajit Ray presents a remarkably insightful understanding of the relations between cultures, and his ideas remain pertinent to the great cultural debates in the contemporary world, not least in India." - Satyajit Ray and the art of Universalism, The New Republic, April 1, 1996. Darius Cooper, Film Critic "In film after film, he investigates India's social institutions and the power structures to which they give rise, or vice versa. He works out, in concrete terms, the conflicts and issues of his times, both in his own state of Bengal and in the larger Indian nation. - The Cinema of Satyajit Ray: Between Tradition and Modernity, 2000 Elia Kazan, Film Director "I want to add my voice to those of Scorsese and Merchant in asking the Academy grant Satyajit Ray an Honorary Lifetime Achievement Award. I have admired his films for many years and for me he is the filmic voice of India, speaking for the people of all classes of the country...He is the most sensitive and eloquent artist and it can truly be said in his case that when we honor him we are honoring ourselves." (Nominating Ray for Life Time Achievement Oscar, 1991) George Lucas, Film Producer/Screenwriter,1991 "Satyajit Ray is an extraordinary filmmaker with a long and illustrious career who has had a profound influence on filmmakers and audiences throughout the world. By honoring Satyajit Ray, the Academy will help bring his work to the attention of a larger public, particularly to young filmmakers, on whom his work will certainly have a positive effect." (Nominating Ray for Life Time Achievement Oscar, 1991) James Ivory, Film Director, 1991 "Satyajit Ray is among the world's greatest directors, living or dead...Isn't it curious that the newest, the most modern of the arts, has found one of its deepest, most fluent expressions in the work of an artist like Ray, who must make his seem less films--many have been masterpieces--in a chaotic and volatile corner of one of the world's oldest cultures, amidst the most stringent shortages of today's advanced movie-making material and equipment?...It would be fitting to honour this great man, who has influenced so many other film makers in all parts of the world, and to salute him with a Lifetime Award in the spring of 1992." (Nominating Ray for Life Time Achievement Oscar, 1991) John Schlesinger, Film Director/Producer/Writer, 1991 "...his extraordinary body of work has not only greatly influenced so many filmmakers, but has profoundly affected their humanitarian attitude. The seeming "simplicity" of his films is the mark of a truly great master and I would be overjoyed if he were to be honored by the Academy." (Nominating Ray for Life Time Achievement Oscar, 1991) Martin Scorsese, Film Director " Ray's magic, the simple poetry of his images and their emotional impact, will always stay with me." "We would like to bring to your attention, and to the attention of the distinguished board of directors of the Academy, a master filmmaker, Satyajit Ray... Though somewhat unwell, during the past few years he has completed two additional films, centered around his deeply humanitarian vision. His work is in the company of that of living contemporaries like Ingmar Bergman, Akira Kurosawa and Federico Fellini." (Nominating Ray for Life Time Achievement Oscar, 1991) "I was in high school and I happened to see 'Pather Panchali' on television. Dubbed in English. With commercials. "It didn't matter. It didn't matter. The image of the Indian culture we had had before, and I'm talking I was 14 years old or 15 years old, were usually through colonialist eyes. And when Satyajit Ray did his films you suddenly not understood the culture because the culture was so complex but you became attached to the culture through the people, and it didn't matter what they were speaking, what they were wearing, what their customs were. Their customs were very, very interesting and surprising, and you suddenly began to realize there are other cultures in the world." - Martin Scorsese Pays Tribute to Satyajit Ray , Washington Post, February 28, 2002 Pauline Kael, Film Critic (I Lost It At The Movies, 1965) "Like Renoir and DeSica, Ray sees that life itself is good no matter how bad it is. It is difficult to discuss art which is an affirmation of life, without fear of becoming maudlin. But is there any other kind of art, on screen or elsewhere? "In cinema," Ray says, "we must select everything for the camera according to the richness of its power to reveal." Ray is sometimes (for us Westerners, and perhaps for Easterners also?) a little boring, but what major artist outside film and drama isn't? What he has to give us is so rich, so contemplative in approach (and this we are completely unused to in the film medium - except perhaps in documentary), that we begin to accept out lapses of attention during the tedious moments with the same kind of relaxation and confidence and affection that we feel for the boring sketches in the great novels, the epic poems." Robert Steel, Film Critic "[When] I did see [Pather Panchali]... I was bowled over. Here was an Indian film that was a film or that matched my concept of a film and a great one at that. It was the first film made in India that I had ever seen which did not embarrass, annoy, or bore me." - Montage Special Issue on Satyajit Ray, 1966 Robin Wood, Film Critic (The Apu Trilogy 1972) "Can we [the Western audience] feel any confidence that we are adequately understanding, intellectually and emotionally, works which are the product of a culture very different from our own? ... What is remarkable is how seldom in Ray's films the spectator is pulled up by any specific obstacle arising from cultural differences ... Ray is less interested in expressing ideas than in communicating emotional experience. " Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, Screen Writer/Author "Out of his great body of work, my own particular favorite is his film Charulata. Although he was such a superb visual artist, Ray's main inspiration was literary. He always wrote his own scripts (as well as directing them and composing his own original score!) and his greatest films were all adaptations of favorite novels and stories, including Charulata, which was based on a novella by Tagore. It doesn't seem to matter through what medium novels, plays, films, music the most potent influences reach us. All great works stimulate a hopeful emulation that ends occasionally, as in the films of Satyajit Ray, in radiant success ensuring the continuation of this business of influence and inspiration that makes us all try and try and try again." |
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09-16-2010, 08:59 AM
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Ray on Ray
Cineaste magazine interview with Satyajit Ray Cineaste: How did Pather Panchali change you. Did it help you discover Bengal? Satyajit Ray: I certainly discovered rural life while making Pather Panchali. There's no question of that. I'd been city-born, city-bred, so I didn't know the village firsthand. While hunting locations in rural areas, and, after finding the village and spending some time there, I began to understand. Talking to people, reacting to moods, to the landscape, to the sights and soundsall this helped. But it's not just people who have been brought up in villages who can make films about village life. An outside view is also able to penetrate. Cineaste: What have been other influences on your work? Ray: Bibhuti Bhushan [the author of The Apu Trilogy and Distant Thunder] influenced me very much. In fact, I knew about village life by reading Pather Panchali. I felt a rapport with him, with the village and his attitude towards it, which is one of the reasons why I wanted to make Pather Panchali in the first place. I was deeply moved by the book. I have also been moved by Tagore's work, which is not necessarily rural. Of course, our cultural background, our cultural makeup, is a fusion of East and West. This applies to anybody who has been educated in the city in India and who has been exposed to the classics of English literature. After all, our knowledge of the West is deeper than the Westerner's knowledge of our country. We have imbibed Western education. Western music, Western art, Western literature have all been very influential in India. Film, as a purely technological medium of expression, developed in the West. The concept of an art form existing in time is a Western concept, not an Indian one. So, in order to understand cinema as a medium, it helps if one is familiar with the West and Western art forms. A Bengali folk artist, or a primitive artist, will not be able to understand the cinema as an art form. Someone who has had a Western education is definitely at an advantage. Cineaste: Indian critics often contend that Pather Panchali was a radical film because it completely altered India's film economy. It proved that it was possible to make viable films without studio patronage. Did the film really have an immediate impact? Ray: I don't think so. Although the audience and critics recognized the film as a landmark of sorts, filmmakers weren't that quick to follow. There was no immediate influence discernible in other directors' works. That came much later. In the last five or six years, filmmakers coming out of the Film Institute in Poona have acknowledged that they have been influenced by Pather Panchali. Cineaste: Are you surprised that your films have been so well received outside of India? Ray: I never imagined that any of my films, especially Pather Panchali, would be seen throughout this country or in other countries. The fact that they have is an indication that, if you're able to portray universal feelings, universal relations, emotions, and characters, you can cross certain barriers and reach out to others, even non-Bengalis. Cineaste: What is the most unsatisfying film you've ever made? Ray: The most unsatisfying film, Chiriakhana (The Zoo), is not being shown in my current retrospective. For one thing, it was not a subject of my choice. I was forced by circumstances to do it. Some of my assistants were supposed to do the film, but they suddenly lost confidence and asked me to take it on. Chiriakhana's a whodunit, and whodunits just don't make good films. I prefer the thriller form where you more or less know the villain from the beginning. The whodunit always has this ritual concluding scene where the detective goes into a rigmarole of how everything happened, and how he found the clues which led him to the criminal. It's a form that doesn't interest me very much. Cineaste: What's been your most satisfying film? Ray: Well, the one film that I would make the same way, if I had to do it again, is Charulata. There are other films, such as Days and Nights in the Forest, which I also admire. Among the children's films, I like Joi Baba Felunath (The Elephant God). It works very well. It's got wit. It's got film eye. It's got a face, a very satisfying face, and some wonderful acting. I also enjoy making the musical films because they give me a chance to compose music. And they're commercially successful, which gives you a certain kind of satisfaction. I like Kanchenjungha, too. That's probably because it was my first original screenplay and a very personal film. It was a good ten to fifteen years ahead of its time. Cineaste: It has a fragmented narrative. Ray: Yes. Our audience likes a central character, or a couple of central characters with whom they can identify, and a story with a straight narrative line. Kanchenjungha told the story of several groups of characters and it went back and forth. You know, between group one, group two, group three, group four, then back to group one, group two, and so on. It's a very musical form, but it wasn't liked. The reaction was stupid. Even the reviews were not interesting. But, looking back now, I find that it is a very interesting film. Cineaste: The women in your films tend to be much stronger, more determined, more adaptable and resilient than the men in your films. Is that a reflection of Bengali social history? Ray: That is often a reflection of what the author has written, a confirmation of the author's point of view expressed in the books on which the films are based. There have been many strong women characters in Tagore and in Bankimchandra. But it also reflects my own attitudes and personal experience of women. Cineaste: Which is? Ray: Although they're physically not as strong as men, nature gave women qualities which compensate for that fact. They're more honest, more direct, and by and large they're stronger characters. I'm not talking about every woman, but the type of woman which fascinates me. The woman I like to put in my films is better able to cope with situations than men. Cineaste: Is Charulata the archetypal Ray woman? Ray: Yes, she is. Cineaste: Starting from The Music Room and continuing on to The Chess Players, you go back and forth between old culture and new culture, tradition and progress. Sometimes I get the feeling that you are leaning toward tradition and the old culture and are somewhat disapproving of what is new. Ray: I don't disapprove of what is new in The Chess Players. There is a very clear attitude expressed in the fact that the feudals are not involved in what is happening around them. Although I am sympathetic to the characters, there's also a clear suggestion that these people are no good. But I am more interested in a way of life that is passing and the representatives of that way of life. You can find the same thing in Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard and it fascinates me. Of course, you risk flogging a dead horse in saying that feudalism is stupid and wrong. But you also feel for the characters in those films. They're pathetic, like dinosaurs who don't realize why they're being wiped out. There's a quality of pathos in that which interests me. Cineaste: Most Western critics feel that your vision of India is a bleak and despairing one. Ray: The Middleman is really the only film of which that sort of remark can be made. Cineaste: But others have found Days and Nights in the Forest despairing. Ray: I wouldn't call it such a despairing vision. Certain unpleasant truths are expressed in it, but that is part of drama, it applies to all kinds of films. You can analyze a Western film and find a very despairing statement about Western values. You can't make happy films all the time. If you're making a film about problems, but you don't have a solution, there's bound to be a despairing quality. In The Big City, both husband and wife lose their jobs. There are no jobs around. They drift apart, there is misunderstanding, and they come together again. But they still don't have any jobs, and they may not have any for quite some time, but that doesn't make it despairing. The only bleak film I have made is The Middleman. There's no question about that. I felt corruption, rampant corruption, all around. Everyone talks about it in Calcutta. Everyone knows, for instance, that the cement allotted to the roads and underground railroad is going to the contractors who are building their own homes with it. The Middleman is a film about that kind of corruption and I don't think there is any solution. Cineaste: You've often said that you don't think it's right, important, or necessary for an artist to provide answers or make judgments, to say that this is right and this is wrong. You've stayed away from major political statements. Ray: I have made political statements more clearly than anyone else, including Mrinal Sen. In Middleman I included a long conversation in which a Congressite discusses the tasks ahead. He talks nonsense, he tells lies, but his very presence is significant. If any other director had made that film, that scene would not have been allowed. But there are definitely restrictions on what a director can say. You know that certain statements and portrayals will never get past the censors. So why make them? Cineaste: Given the political climate in India, is the filmmaker's role one of passive observer or activist? Ray: Have you seen Hirak Rajar Deshe (The Kingdom of Diamonds)? There is a scene of the great clean-up where all the poor people are driven away. That is a direct reflection of what happened in Delhi and other cities during Indira Gandhi's Emergency. In a fantasy like The Kingdom of Diamonds, you can be forthright, but if you're dealing with contemporary characters, you can be articulate only up to a point, because of censorship. You simply cannot attack the party in power. It was tried in The Story of a Chair and the entire film was destroyed. What can you do? You are aware of the problems and you deal with them, but you also know the limit, the constraints beyond which you just cannot go. Cineaste: Some people see that as an abdication of the filmmaker's social role. A number of critics, especially those in Bengal, feel that you aren't political enough, that you can go further, but that you just haven't tested your limits. Ray: No, I don't think I can go any further. It is very easy to attack certain targets like the establishment. You are attacking people who don't care. The establishment will remain totally untouched by what you're saying. So what is the point? Films cannot change society. They never have. Show me a film that changed society or brought about any change. Cineaste: What about filmmakers such as Leni Riefenstahl, who presented the Nazi version of the Aryan myth, or Sergei Eisenstein, who used film as a tool of the revolution? Ray: Eisenstein aided a revolution that was already taking place. In the midst of a revolution, a filmmaker has a positive role, he can do something for the revolution. But, if there is no revolution, you can do nothing. Riefenstahl was helping a myth, the Nazi ideology, and the Nazis were very strong at the time. In the early days of fascism, even the intellectuals were confused. Tagore was led to believe that Mussolini was doing something wonderful, playing a very positive role, until Romain Rolland told him he was wrong, that he hadn't understood the full implications of fascism. Cineaste: How do you see your own social role as filmmaker? Ray: You can see my attitude in The Adversary where you have two brothers. The younger brother is a Naxalite. There is no doubt that the elder brother admires the younger brother for his bravery and convictions. The film is not ambiguous about that. As a filmmaker, however, I was more interested in the elder brother because he is the vacillating character. As a psychological entity, as a human being with doubts, he is a more interesting character to me. The younger brother has already identified himself with a cause. That makes him part of a total attitude and makes him unimportant. The Naxalite movement takes over. He, as a person, becomes insignificant. Cineaste: But can you make such a distinction between ideological gestures and emotional gestures? Isn't the ideologue also an intellectual being? How can you create such a dichotomy? Ray: Why not? I don't see why not. Anybody who identifies himself with a movement is depending on directives from higher figures who are dictating, controlling their movement. If you took the controlling characters, that would be interesting. Then you could make a film about the Naxalite movement, an Eisensteinian film about revolutionary activity. But you cannot do that under the present circumstances in India. Cineaste: I am not the only one who feels that you emphasize emotion. Robin Wood has written that you are more interested in communicating emotional experiences than in expressing ideas. Ray: That's just not correct. One thing that should be clearly discernible in my films is a strong moral attitude. Cineaste: Is that a product of your religious upbringing, of being Brahmo? Ray: I don't think so. I don't even know what being Brahmo means. I stopped going to Brahmo Samaj around the age of fourteen or fifteen. I don't believe in organized religion anyway. Religion can only be on a personal level. I just find that the moral attitude I demonstrate is more interesting than any political attitude I could bring to my films. Cineaste: Is the moral attitude sometimes too simple? In Pikoo you seem to be suggesting that infidelity can lead to a variety of problems, that changing social and sexual values have hurt the social and family fabric. Ray: Pikoo is a very complex film. It is a poetic statement which cannot be reduced to concrete terms. One statement the film tries to make is that, if a woman is to be unfaithful, if she is to have an extramarital affair, she can't afford to have soft emotions towards her children, or, in this case, her son. The two just don't go together. You have to be ruthless. Maybe she's not ruthless to that extent. She's being very Bengali. A European in the same circumstances would not behave in the same way. Cineaste: How did Charulata resolve the problem of infidelity? She, as we are led to believe, went back. Was she being unfaithful or just caught between.... Ray: She was unfaithful but she was also confused because the husband was good. He wasn't a rake. Charulata probably felt sympathetic and was attempting to patch up the situation. The husband realized too late that he himself was responsible for what had happened. That is why at the end of the film there is the suggestion that they will come together, but that it is too soon for a reconciliation. Cineaste: How much of your own sentiments are in your characters? Reviewing Distant Thunder, Pauline Kael wrote, "Ray has put something of himself into Gangacharan, something of his own guilt, of weakness, of commitment." Is that accurate? Ray: Critics forget that I'm basing the film on someone else's work that already exists in another form. In Distant Thunder, Gangacharan is very close to Bibhuti Bhushan's concept. The real question should be whether the author himself had this feeling of guilt and weakness. I'm not the originator of the story. Why drag me into it? It's true, the fact that I have chosen to portray a character in a certain way does imply a sense of identity and understanding. I understand Gangacharan, his motivations, his behavior, his reactions. For me, he is a believable, fully-rounded character, and his transformation at the end is very moving, but he is not my reflection. Cineaste: Are you suggesting that people who don't read the books from which your films are made may have a difficult time understanding or interpreting your films? Ray: Yes, in the sense that they tend to ignore the original author completely. They're thinking of the narrative as a total creation, from beginning to end, by the filmmaker, and that is usually not true. I choose a story or a novel for certain elements in it which appeal to me. In the process of writing the screenplay, the theme may be modified, but most of the original elements will be retained. Often the screenplay evolves as a criticism of the original. After reading a story many times, you may feel that a certain character would not behave the way the author has described, so some changes are made. Once I have read a story and gotten to know it, I will leave the story behind and start from scratch. At the end, if I find that certain changes are convincing, I'll keep them and forget the original. Cineaste: Some critics feel that you romanticize poverty, that the poverty and misery in your films never become ugly. Ray: I think that Pather Panchali is fairly ruthless in its depiction of poverty. The behavior of characters, the way that the mother behaves towards the old woman, is absolutely cruel. I don't think anyone has shown such cruelty to old people within a family. Distant Thunder takes place in a very pretty setting and this is a point that Kael makes, that Babita is a baby doll or something. She doesn't know that some Brahmin wives in the villages were very beautiful. Cineaste: Isn't the point in Distant Thunder that a famine occurred without a scorched earth and starving faces? Ray: Yes, that's what happened during that famine. It was only after everyone started coming into the cities that it became clear that people could die of hunger even when there had been a good harvest. That was the point of that particular famine. As for my use of color, it came straight from the author's descriptionthat nature was very lush, that everything was physically beautiful, and, yet, people were dying of hunger. Cineaste: You, Fellini, Kurosawa, and Bergman all started making films around the same time. Many critics feel, however, that you have lagged behind, that you haven't taken the aesthetic and narrative risks that Fellini or Bergman have taken. As you come to the end of nearly thirty years of filmmaking, how do you see your own career in comparison with others? Ray: I think I achieved maturity at a pretty early stage. It has been my preoccupation to achieve as much density as possible within a superficially simple narrative structure. I don't think of the Western audiences when I make my films. I am thinking of my own audience in Bengal. I am trying to take them along with me, and this I have succeeded in doing. At the beginning, this audience was extremely unsophisticated. They were used to trash or the naive Bengali film. You had to take them along slowly. Sometimes you took a leap as in Kanchenjungha or in Days and Nights in the Forest, and lost them. These kinds of risks, especially in relation to their audiences, haven't been taken by Bergman or Fellini. Bergman is fairly simple, although he can be very austere and rigorous, and he is often aided by some marvelous photography. As for Fellini, he seems to be making the same film over and over again. There is a lot of bravura in his films, in spite of the fact that he's not so interested in the stories, and people go to see that bravura. I can't do all that Bergman and Fellini do. I don't have their audiences and I don't work in that kind of context. I have to contend with an audience that is used to dross. I have worked with an Indian audience for thirty years and, in that time, the general look of cinema hasn't changed. Certainly not in Bengal. You'll find directors there are so backward, so stupid, and so trashy that you'll find it difficult to believe that their works exist alongside my films. I am forced by circumstances to keep my stories on an innocuous level. What I can do, however, is to pack my films with meaning and psychological inflections and shades, and make a whole which will communicate a lot of things to many people. |
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09-16-2010, 09:10 AM
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#7 |
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09-16-2010, 09:25 AM
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#8 |
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I am but an amateur when it comes to this subject...but my own experience is that Ray's films has influence far and wide...for example the friend who first introduced me to Ray's "Pather Panchali" was Romanian. I was no doubt surprised.
I throughly enjoyed "Pather Panchali" and went on to watch "Aparajito" but when trying to follow up shortly with "Apur Sansur" , I have to admit, it thoroughly depressed me. I think I will wait awhile before attempting the last one. The words "timeless" apply to the aforementioned films in not so much as an evergreen topic or experience but rather a release of time in which I feel that I became so engrossed in such a simple tale of poverty and survival. I will always feel for Apu's mother and her calls to Apu will always haunt my dreams. Who you have cited have of course said it in a more eloquent way, but I can say that I certainly share the feeling. The British Indian comedy series "Goodness Gracious Me" did a spoof of an interview with Satyajit Ray...If I can find it, I will post it. |
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09-16-2010, 06:49 PM
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#9 |
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It's amusing that any reporter or discussion on Ray would begin with 'romanticizing' poverty and such things. May be because Pather Panjali was his most popular film. He was much more than that.
Of the four Ray's films I have watched, I liked the rest better than Pather Panjali. (I badly need to revisit it anyway. I saw it long back). 'Nayak' & 'Aranyer Din Ratri' were absolutely fantastic. Keeping these two films in my mind, I voted for the third option. |
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09-17-2010, 03:13 AM
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#10 |
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It's amusing that any reporter or discussion on Ray would begin with 'romanticizing' poverty and such things. May be because Pather Panjali was his most popular film. He was much more than that. |
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09-17-2010, 03:31 AM
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#11 |
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Ray seems to be more satisfied with Charulata than Pather Panchali (and Apu trilogy in general), which is mostly mentioned as his masterpiece.
My favorite Ray films in no order: Days and Nights in the Forest(his most challenging and in my humble opinion, his best) Charulata (a rich feminist work that even tops Mahanagar/The Big City) Pather Panchali Jalsaghar/the Music room Kanchenjungha Sadgati (Tv movie starring Om puri and late Smita Patil that rivals their work in Nihalani and Benegal films of the same time) His speech while receiving lifetime achievement award is a riot. Very sophisticated, and well-informed, even if he was quite ill (only recorded clip of ray receiving the award on deathbed)! His taste for irony and humor despite the situation is genuinely moving. I'm currently reading his book, "Our films, their films", after being impressed by the portions I read in books.google.com, what a page turner. As usual, Ray treads that fine line between scholarly elitism and matter-of-fact prose. |
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09-17-2010, 04:47 AM
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#12 |
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K_g
Thanks for your contribution. Write more about this legend. I have seen most of his movies now even though I started seeing his movies only 10 years back. Very strange feeling when I see them. Everything looks so genuine, sometime we forget the fact we are watching movie. |
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09-17-2010, 05:51 PM
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#13 |
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Originally Posted by AravindMano It's amusing that any reporter or discussion on Ray would begin with 'romanticizing' poverty and such things. May be because Pather Panjali was his most popular film. He was much more than that.|
09-18-2010, 02:18 AM
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#14 |
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"Any filmmaker who while at work bears any resemblance to the popular conception of artist as a withdrawn individual in rapt communication with his muse is obviously shirking & has no business to be within miles of movie camera" Ray, 'Our films, their films'.
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09-23-2010, 09:30 AM
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#15 |
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Triumph of Pather Panchali
1955, A huge success A few months later, on August 26, 1955, Pather Panchali was finally released in Calcutta. Using his advertising experience, ray had designed five billboards including a full-sized 8ftX20ft. one. It had Apu and Durga running in vast landscape of dark monsoon clouds with Pather Panchali being the only legend. The film did only moderately well in the first two weeks. By third week however, the word spread and it was running packed at three cinema houses. The cinema house, however, had only booked for six weeks. It was then shown in another chain for seven more weeks. It was a box-office success. Ray and his crew were feted at numerous functions. Dr. B.C. Roy, who had seen the film earlier, organised a screening for Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, the Prime Minister of India who was on a visit to Calcutta. Nehru was moved by the film and ensured that Pather Panchali was entered in the Cannes Films festival, 1956, despite a move by some to oppose the entry. The screening at Cannes took place on one of the festival holidays at midnight. As result, most of the jury members did not turn up. On the insistence of a few film critics and Ray's friends, Lindsay Anderson and Andre Bazin among them, another screening was held with the full jury. The film won the special jury prize for "the Best Human Document". Pather Panchali went on to win a dozen odd prizes at home and film festivals abroad, including Best Actress for Chunibala for her role as Indir Thakrun at Manila. The recognition persuaded him to take the plunge. He decided to give up advertising and turn to film making as a full time career. And thus began a long and illustrious career. His first film, Pather Panchali had established Satyajit Ray as a world-class director. |
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10-11-2010, 06:30 AM
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#16 |
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Interview with One of Ray's stellar collaborators, on One of Ray's best films. Acting by the ensemble cast is uniformly good. Soumitra Chatterjee was good (and charismatic), but it's fair to say that the women (Sharmila Tagore and Kaberi Bose) steal the show remarkably in far lesser footage. Except perhaps Simi Garewal as tribal girl, Duli - rather perplexing why Ray would cast her in one of the decidedly "non-acting" parts. Why hire her if you want to paint the whole body dark. Rather unnerving.
Ray writes quite a lot on Renoir in "Our films, their films", and in gushing praise for "The Rules of the game", he definitely had that film in mind before making this one. Even if it doesn't reach the summits of that undoubted masterpiece, "Days and Nights in the forest" is a superlative film (IMHO his best!). |
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10-14-2010, 03:52 AM
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#17 |
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10-14-2010, 03:57 AM
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#18 |
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02-28-2011, 06:07 AM
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#19 |
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Thanks for the link to this Thilak.
Lovely interview. Thanks thamizharasan. I am still under the sway of Charulata. The characters and the relationships are brought out so well. The personal vocabulary - arguably the loveliest manifestation of a relationship is brought out with such great control. Charu calls Amal Thakurpo (b-i-l) but on multiple occasions calls him 'dhikkach babu' (does dhikkach mean 'clever?'). For instance in the swing scene (which has amazing frames) she calls him thakurpo and when he doesn't respond he calls him 'o dhikkach babu'. The 'nabina' versus traditional woman - classification they playfully talk to each other about. Of writing The emotions in the act of writing - sequence is just fantastic. There is condescension in 'encouraging' her to write. She is piqued by the 'betrayal' felt by her when Amal publishes his work. he didn't take his promise to her seriously precisely because he thinks little of her judgement and fails to understand what the promise of the writing remaining in the embroidered notebook, meant to her. The coldness and frenzy of her writing is just marvellously well brought out. What is the point she has proven? Her 'worth' to Amal? What is her tragedy? That he has been such a blockhead that she had to go through such a 'demonstration'? What does her refusal to write mean? (As in feminisaum, role of nabina-wise: "talends are there to command but why would I need to if 'my man' knows me" seems the point to me). Amal is thoroughly shaken by her writing. He is totally confused about her reaction about publication. He's not had the realization yet...only later (after Bhupathi is betrayed by Umapada). And remember his PS in the letter: Charu should keep writing. How innocent and yet, within the vocabulary that only they two know, how strong a rejection. One can imagine Charu going livid. Measured Catfight The competing for attention that Charu's sil is awesome. She rejects her favorite kulfi when it comes only second hand. Charu and she cross swords ever so subtly, samosas, pan flinging (I know him better), Charu showing who's the boss (getting the laundry herself). She has a self-admitted non-nabini and makes no bones about it. Charu is judgemental of her (card game, where she rejects it's a no-brainer and then proudly 'wins' even that game). Such traditional poignance (that I am quite a sucker for) is her parting line to Amol where she says she'd like to see the magazine: 'even if I cannot read (and make sense) of your essay, I can atleast read your name'. How lovely! Bhupathi Bhupathi could have easily been caricatured but he is shown as a man of life and blood. Yes, with his won obsessions, but still a real man. His childlike trust of Umapada. Giving responsibility to a disinterested man!! The scene with the paper-merchant. He is mildly judgemental of Charu's Bonkim romance fascinations. But at the same time is truly 'each to his own'. The harshest thing he can summon himself to say (to Amol) is: "(political) suffering is real. Not this Romeo and Juliet stories"  His inadequacies, his misgivings are things he is open about. "I was hurt" he plainly tells Charu about learning about her publication at the party only. When she slyly guilt-trips him he is quick to take the blame for that too. In the penultimate beach scene he struggles to say pleasantries to his wife: "perhaps it would be easier if I read Bonkim". What a thing to say! He does not say that with a cynical superiority, but with a earnest warmth, that he has to make his effort to relate to Charu. And in his childlike enthusiasm he is taken by Charu's idea and moves to: "People talk about the roar of the waves, there is nothing as sweet as the sound of a printing press". The words (Sentinel - fallen soldier in a play), the impromptu alliterations (Burdwan, Britain, Bristol, then back to Bengal and Bonkim babu) that so easily flow in their conversations was excellent. Cinematography The cinematography I guess would've been written by many periyavAs. The swing scene (no steadycam then, how did they do?) is awesome. The one with Amol in the foreground and Charu swinging the length of Amal is so memorable. The piano song has Amol executing small hops and looking at Charu and the camera hops!! The diagonal moves in the stage of indoor action make for wonderful scenes.A simple simple frame, just by lowering it by a few inches is made to include the bed railings in the frame. So when it moves across there is a heightened pace in the visual. idhellAm set property-ai paathu dhaanE yOsikkavE mudiyin  The scene where they return from the beach holiday. The letter is in focus slowly, the actors are in the fringe. We are uneasy about the frame as it is slowly and slowly excludes them more and more (what 'natural' dialogues in that scene, she is concerned about the homecoming, Bhupathi is already concerned about the 'new start') I don't think I have had this satisfactory a movie experience in a loooong time. Must sink my teeth into this man from now |
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03-03-2011, 09:20 PM
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#20 |
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'dhikkach babu' (does dhikkach mean 'clever?') |
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