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kunalsen_7684's rating
Exotic (Adjective)- 1. Strangely Beautiful
THE GENRE Ray developed a language of his own through the Apu trilogy- a slow, lush, languid, lyrical language reminiscent of enchanting poetry in the most maudlin and mundane circumstances. He didn't ostracize poverty nor did he glamorize it, He didn't exploit it but merely romanticized it. He found romance and beauty in the most hideous of circumstances. It was like a pain that was so severe that the agony became sweet, a sore so deep that its anguish felt sensuous. Like death- so terrifying that it's freeing, exonerating. It's the kind of erotic pain one feels in the muscles after a hard day's work. You want to laugh at the pain almost with contempt and with a condescending, patronizing attitude, never realizing that it is your own pain that you're laughing at. But you want to wallow in it all the same because you think that it'll make you more profound and hence you're thankful for it having been bestowed upon you
THE TREATMENT Ray gave an explanation to the people who have a problem with the pacing of the film by saying that the slow rambling rhythm of the film was a clue to the subject matter itself, as villages in rural Bengal do, in fact, ramble. Pather Panchali has numerous colloquial anecdotes in chaste Bengali but despite the localized context, the message of the film is universal because pain and suffering knows no boundaries- they transcend and pervade our hearts, overcoming mythical barriers of race, religion, nationality, language, time, place and other such superfluous demographic constraints. Pather Panchali is ultimately a comment on the indomitable insubordination of the human soul
THE POETRY Ray is rather unforgiving in his vision. He chooses stark landscapes sans an iota of conventional beauty and surrounds his world with equally pathetic and ugly faces but he finds a beauty amongst them that is so pristine and divine. He literally hears the beating of a heart in the throbbing of a wound. The small moments- a torn bed sheet (torn, mind you and thereby being an article that if placed in any other film, would conventionally arouse feelings of sadness but not in Pather Panchali for here that very article becomes a magnificent artifact) through which Apu's eyes can be seen for the first time when we see him as a child. It assumes an artistic expression of its own. The kaleidoscope becomes a voyeuristic instrument, enabling a glimpse into the world of fantasy albeit one that is decidedly and inexplicably, out of their reach. The simple act of following a sweetmeat seller and the hope of eventually extracting some savories from him or from the house he's selling them to, becomes a 'chase sequence', the tragic mood uplifted by the lilting Sitar music by Ravi Shankar. We feel victorious when Durga is given sweets by her young friend right under the disapproving gaze of her bitter mother.
THE TRAGEDY 'Song of the little road' is a joyous journey through a road of unbearable suffering. Tragedies are many- the death of the aunt being the first moment, Apu's first encounter with death. Whether he fully comprehends the situation or not is debatable but the indelible impression of this one incident on his nubile mind, is not. Then, the second tragedy- the death of Durga, Apu's sister and his best friend is even more heartbreaking than the earlier tragedy simply because of the higher shock value it has. Durga is in many ways the protagonist of this film. Apu is merely a bystander who observes rather than experiences most situations in this film. It is Durga- playful and protective, child and woman, innocent and naughty- so captivating is Uma Dasgupta's performance that the viewer falls in love with the character and therefore cannot quite accept her death in the film. Why she was here just a few moments ago- playing carelessly in the rain with Apu and then, suddenly, nature seems to have defeated her but isn't there a lesson in that? The lesson being that it took death to conquer her undying spirit, for she wouldn't have succumbed to her circumstances while alive. It's as if she was saying- "You may take my life away but you'll never conquer my spirit". Her presence wraps the film like a halo and she is enshrined forever in the viewer's hearts. Another exemplary sequence is the one where Durga and Apu run out of their house to watch the trains go by. The haunting look in Apu's utterly captivated eyes touch the viewer. Steam Engines, like the kaleidoscope, are again a symbol of movement and fantasy and yearning for an outside world and these symbols of change and freedom become even more evident when seen within the startling paradoxical context of their waking existence of stillness in their never changing lives that they partake everyday like bonded labor. The difference between Yesterday and Today is barely discernible in their village where life follows the hum drum of a set pattern. So set that it's almost a sacred ritual.
THE INSIGHTS Relentless in its pursuit of reality, Pather Panchali is a neo real masterpiece. I have been fortunate enough to have visited the actual location where Pather Panchali had been shot. The landscape is still the same, still as barren, the sons and daughters of the villages still look like Apu and Durga, Ray's voice still seems to resonate through the hollow tree barks and Ravi Shankar's soulful Sitar strings still peek from behind the antediluvian cobblestones. Because just like an old painting, the colors may have dried and got slightly discolored, but Ray's impeccable genius is still visible through the Gothic canvas.
THE GENRE Ray developed a language of his own through the Apu trilogy- a slow, lush, languid, lyrical language reminiscent of enchanting poetry in the most maudlin and mundane circumstances. He didn't ostracize poverty nor did he glamorize it, He didn't exploit it but merely romanticized it. He found romance and beauty in the most hideous of circumstances. It was like a pain that was so severe that the agony became sweet, a sore so deep that its anguish felt sensuous. Like death- so terrifying that it's freeing, exonerating. It's the kind of erotic pain one feels in the muscles after a hard day's work. You want to laugh at the pain almost with contempt and with a condescending, patronizing attitude, never realizing that it is your own pain that you're laughing at. But you want to wallow in it all the same because you think that it'll make you more profound and hence you're thankful for it having been bestowed upon you
THE TREATMENT Ray gave an explanation to the people who have a problem with the pacing of the film by saying that the slow rambling rhythm of the film was a clue to the subject matter itself, as villages in rural Bengal do, in fact, ramble. Pather Panchali has numerous colloquial anecdotes in chaste Bengali but despite the localized context, the message of the film is universal because pain and suffering knows no boundaries- they transcend and pervade our hearts, overcoming mythical barriers of race, religion, nationality, language, time, place and other such superfluous demographic constraints. Pather Panchali is ultimately a comment on the indomitable insubordination of the human soul
THE POETRY Ray is rather unforgiving in his vision. He chooses stark landscapes sans an iota of conventional beauty and surrounds his world with equally pathetic and ugly faces but he finds a beauty amongst them that is so pristine and divine. He literally hears the beating of a heart in the throbbing of a wound. The small moments- a torn bed sheet (torn, mind you and thereby being an article that if placed in any other film, would conventionally arouse feelings of sadness but not in Pather Panchali for here that very article becomes a magnificent artifact) through which Apu's eyes can be seen for the first time when we see him as a child. It assumes an artistic expression of its own. The kaleidoscope becomes a voyeuristic instrument, enabling a glimpse into the world of fantasy albeit one that is decidedly and inexplicably, out of their reach. The simple act of following a sweetmeat seller and the hope of eventually extracting some savories from him or from the house he's selling them to, becomes a 'chase sequence', the tragic mood uplifted by the lilting Sitar music by Ravi Shankar. We feel victorious when Durga is given sweets by her young friend right under the disapproving gaze of her bitter mother.
THE TRAGEDY 'Song of the little road' is a joyous journey through a road of unbearable suffering. Tragedies are many- the death of the aunt being the first moment, Apu's first encounter with death. Whether he fully comprehends the situation or not is debatable but the indelible impression of this one incident on his nubile mind, is not. Then, the second tragedy- the death of Durga, Apu's sister and his best friend is even more heartbreaking than the earlier tragedy simply because of the higher shock value it has. Durga is in many ways the protagonist of this film. Apu is merely a bystander who observes rather than experiences most situations in this film. It is Durga- playful and protective, child and woman, innocent and naughty- so captivating is Uma Dasgupta's performance that the viewer falls in love with the character and therefore cannot quite accept her death in the film. Why she was here just a few moments ago- playing carelessly in the rain with Apu and then, suddenly, nature seems to have defeated her but isn't there a lesson in that? The lesson being that it took death to conquer her undying spirit, for she wouldn't have succumbed to her circumstances while alive. It's as if she was saying- "You may take my life away but you'll never conquer my spirit". Her presence wraps the film like a halo and she is enshrined forever in the viewer's hearts. Another exemplary sequence is the one where Durga and Apu run out of their house to watch the trains go by. The haunting look in Apu's utterly captivated eyes touch the viewer. Steam Engines, like the kaleidoscope, are again a symbol of movement and fantasy and yearning for an outside world and these symbols of change and freedom become even more evident when seen within the startling paradoxical context of their waking existence of stillness in their never changing lives that they partake everyday like bonded labor. The difference between Yesterday and Today is barely discernible in their village where life follows the hum drum of a set pattern. So set that it's almost a sacred ritual.
THE INSIGHTS Relentless in its pursuit of reality, Pather Panchali is a neo real masterpiece. I have been fortunate enough to have visited the actual location where Pather Panchali had been shot. The landscape is still the same, still as barren, the sons and daughters of the villages still look like Apu and Durga, Ray's voice still seems to resonate through the hollow tree barks and Ravi Shankar's soulful Sitar strings still peek from behind the antediluvian cobblestones. Because just like an old painting, the colors may have dried and got slightly discolored, but Ray's impeccable genius is still visible through the Gothic canvas.
What we have here is a slice of the life narrative which is dominated by an exciting battle of wits between two suitors over a girl. Amol Palekar plays Arun, a diffident simpleton who likes a girl from a neighboring office but isn't able to profess his adoration for his object of affection and attention. They meet in the most mundane circumstances- on the bus while on the way to their respective offices. On some days, he follows her and on some days, she notices. Is she interested in him? Is she playing the mind games? How can one be certain? The problem of the girl's inexplicable behavior (in Arun's mind) is further increased by the entry of a third factor- a glib talking, over smart and overbearing character of Asrani who happens to be a colleague of Prabha and is therefore, ostensibly at an advantage. And yes, he is a keen enthusiast in two sports- Chess and Table Tennis, whereas Arun sucks at both those disciplines. Oh, and Asrani also has a lime green Lambretta which Arun is envious of.
In the first act itself, there ensues a battle of wits between Arun and Asrani. While Arun's motives in winning over Prabha are pretty unambiguous, Asrani's motivations are not that apparent to the audience. We are left guessing whether he is really trying to woo Prabha or is he just a compulsive flirt with a big mouth and terrible etiquettes? But those very vices seem to be helping him in the beginning. He emerges as a roadblock in Arun's journey of love and in a memorable dream sequence, several of which are used very innovatively throughout the film, Arun imagines himself murdering him and then facing the jury proudly after his belligerent deed. However, that's just one of Arun's many daydreams. In reality, he is unable to express his feelings of love for Prabha. Whener she's around, he gets tongue tied. A Beatles Song most accurately describes his psychology at that point of time
"I want to tell you. My head is filled with things to say. When you're here, all those words they seem to slip away"
That Harrison Song from 1967's legendary 'Revolver' album, perfectly captures Arun's inner torment and turmoil in the first half of the film. Disillusioned and disappointed with his repeated failures in the war of love, he turns to astrology and divine intervention but no avail God helps those who help themselves. Therefore, he decides to seek help and finds that in the form of Col. JNW Singh of Khandala, a confident, worldly wise, old man who is said to have the best advise for everyone who come to seek it and the advise is available on various topics- love, career, tax planning, etc. He takes a special interest in Arun's case, the reason for which is revealed later.
Under Col. Singh's tutelage, Arun learns the art of courtship. Through a complex training process comprising body language courses, table etiquettes, chess and table tennis apart from of course the mandatory knowledge about the birds and the bees and the wondrous art of deciphering the intentions of womankind by the wave of her hand, the curled smile on her lips, the placement of her feet, the position of her face and purse, the movements of her fingers, the contact of her eyes, her laughter, her touch, the color of her mascara, the size of her earrings, the strength of her handshake, the tone of her voice, etc. etc.
After all this, Arun returns back to Mumbai a changed man. He is accompanied by his mentor, Col. Singh, who wants to check on his progress. The new Arun has a leap in his stride, a mild confidence about his countenance and knowledge of his new craft. Slowly, he starts turning the tables on Asrani and uses his own tricks against Asrani himself much to the secret glee of Prabha, who by this time, seems to have developed an affection of her own in Arun. They enjoy spending time together. Then, one day he calls her to his place. What are his intentions? Does he really love her or can it be that .? No, Prabha decides to go and find out for herself the truth about Arun's character. What happens in the end? Does Arun trick Prabha or do we get a happy ending? And where does Asrani fit into the scheme of things? The situations are so believable and the characters are so relatable that this film is an instant favorite of mine. The technique used is brilliant. The use of voice overs, flash backs and flash forwards are innovatively used. And the songs they are mind blowing most rendered soulfully by Yesudas- 'Jaaneman- Jaaneman', ' Yeh Din' and the beautiful and haunting, 'Na Jaane Kyun'. Amol Palekar excels in a role tailor made for him. Asrani gives an effortless performance. Vidya Sinha is adequate. Ashok Kumar is brilliant in his depiction of one of the most memorable characters- Julius Nagendranath Wilfred Singh.
A thoroughly entertaining film and one that can be watched again and again, CSB is my favourite Basu Chatterjee film, followed closely by Rajanigandha- which is worthy of being hailed a classic too and is on certain levels, even more masterful than Choti Si Baat as Rajanigandha looks at the matters of love through the eyes of a woman and touches a point even deeper in our psychology.
In the first act itself, there ensues a battle of wits between Arun and Asrani. While Arun's motives in winning over Prabha are pretty unambiguous, Asrani's motivations are not that apparent to the audience. We are left guessing whether he is really trying to woo Prabha or is he just a compulsive flirt with a big mouth and terrible etiquettes? But those very vices seem to be helping him in the beginning. He emerges as a roadblock in Arun's journey of love and in a memorable dream sequence, several of which are used very innovatively throughout the film, Arun imagines himself murdering him and then facing the jury proudly after his belligerent deed. However, that's just one of Arun's many daydreams. In reality, he is unable to express his feelings of love for Prabha. Whener she's around, he gets tongue tied. A Beatles Song most accurately describes his psychology at that point of time
"I want to tell you. My head is filled with things to say. When you're here, all those words they seem to slip away"
That Harrison Song from 1967's legendary 'Revolver' album, perfectly captures Arun's inner torment and turmoil in the first half of the film. Disillusioned and disappointed with his repeated failures in the war of love, he turns to astrology and divine intervention but no avail God helps those who help themselves. Therefore, he decides to seek help and finds that in the form of Col. JNW Singh of Khandala, a confident, worldly wise, old man who is said to have the best advise for everyone who come to seek it and the advise is available on various topics- love, career, tax planning, etc. He takes a special interest in Arun's case, the reason for which is revealed later.
Under Col. Singh's tutelage, Arun learns the art of courtship. Through a complex training process comprising body language courses, table etiquettes, chess and table tennis apart from of course the mandatory knowledge about the birds and the bees and the wondrous art of deciphering the intentions of womankind by the wave of her hand, the curled smile on her lips, the placement of her feet, the position of her face and purse, the movements of her fingers, the contact of her eyes, her laughter, her touch, the color of her mascara, the size of her earrings, the strength of her handshake, the tone of her voice, etc. etc.
After all this, Arun returns back to Mumbai a changed man. He is accompanied by his mentor, Col. Singh, who wants to check on his progress. The new Arun has a leap in his stride, a mild confidence about his countenance and knowledge of his new craft. Slowly, he starts turning the tables on Asrani and uses his own tricks against Asrani himself much to the secret glee of Prabha, who by this time, seems to have developed an affection of her own in Arun. They enjoy spending time together. Then, one day he calls her to his place. What are his intentions? Does he really love her or can it be that .? No, Prabha decides to go and find out for herself the truth about Arun's character. What happens in the end? Does Arun trick Prabha or do we get a happy ending? And where does Asrani fit into the scheme of things? The situations are so believable and the characters are so relatable that this film is an instant favorite of mine. The technique used is brilliant. The use of voice overs, flash backs and flash forwards are innovatively used. And the songs they are mind blowing most rendered soulfully by Yesudas- 'Jaaneman- Jaaneman', ' Yeh Din' and the beautiful and haunting, 'Na Jaane Kyun'. Amol Palekar excels in a role tailor made for him. Asrani gives an effortless performance. Vidya Sinha is adequate. Ashok Kumar is brilliant in his depiction of one of the most memorable characters- Julius Nagendranath Wilfred Singh.
A thoroughly entertaining film and one that can be watched again and again, CSB is my favourite Basu Chatterjee film, followed closely by Rajanigandha- which is worthy of being hailed a classic too and is on certain levels, even more masterful than Choti Si Baat as Rajanigandha looks at the matters of love through the eyes of a woman and touches a point even deeper in our psychology.