Film #50: Apur Sansor (1959)

Note: Apur Sansar is the final installment of the Apu Trilogy. Here are my reviews of the first two, Pather Panchali and Aparajito,

Title for Us English-Speaking Types: The World of Apu

Director: Satyajit Ray

Initial Release Country: Bangladesh

Times Previously Seen: none

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Young and artistic Bengali man faces myriad of emotional swings when reality clashes with his ideals.

Uncut Summary (A full plot synopsis, spoilers included. Fair warning)

When last we saw the young Apu Roy, he was leaving his ancestral home after his mother's tragic death. He was returning to Calcutta to proceed with his university education. It is now a few years down the road, and he has only been able to partially complete his education due to lack of money. With only an Intermediate diploma, he is hard-pressed to find work. He dreams of being a writer, and works diligently at it, but can only pay his bills through modest tutoring jobs.

Under the threat of eviction from his worn-down room, he seeks a more regular job. However, when he learns that the only jobs available are the most menial and mind-numbing of tasks, he decides to continue eking out his living through tutoring and writing. He does receive word that one of his short stories has been accepted for publication. This is perhaps a hint at potential future success.

A very poor but fairly contented Apu plays his pipe to while away time in his battered room.

Apu is eventually visited by his old college friend, Pulu. Pulu is initially disappointed that Apu has not been heard of since leaving college, and the two bicker over Apu's idealist notions compared to Pulu's more practical approach to life. The two do rekindle their friendship for one another, though.

On Pulu's invitation, Apu travels to his friend's impressive family home to witness his younger cousin, Apurna's, forthcoming wedding. Things go horribly wrong, though, when the groom-to-be shows up and appears to be stark mad. Pulu's family is distraught, as they believe that a cancellation of the wedding will curse Apurna for the rest of her life. Desperate, they ask Apu if he will marry Apurna so that their family will not be cursed and disgraced. Apu is at first appalled, and he angrily refuses. After some thought, though, he decides that it would be highly virtuous to accede to their request. As such, he becomes the unexpected groom.

On the wedding night, Apu comes clean to his new wife, who is quite beautiful, if rather young. Apu explains his reasons for marrying her and admits that his artistic aspirations likely preclude any possibility of riches. He has accepted a life of poverty and asks if she is willing to do the same. Despite being from a family of significant means, Apurna accepts the situation and agrees to go with her new husband back to Calcutta.

Apu and his new wife, complete strangers, make awkward attempts to get to know each other.

On first arriving, Apurna has a few moments of quiet sadness as, in Apu's dilapidated apartment, the realization of her new life hits her. And yet, she soon comes to love her husband's kind nature. She even rebuffs his proposal to find more work so that they may be a little more comfortable, preferring instead to simply spend the time with him. She has realized that any material wealth is as nothing compared to being with the man that she loves. Apu sees this and his love for his wife grows deep and profound.

Soon, Apurna becomes pregnant. She leaves Apu in Calcutta, in order to be with her family for the few months leading up to the birth. Then, tragedy. One of Apurna's brothers unexpectedly shows on Apu's door to inform him that Apurna has died in a premature birth. His child lives, but Apu has lost the one thing that he treasures above all else in the world – his loving wife.

With Apurna gone, Apu becomes a shell of the man he was. He turns his back on nearly everything, including his newborn son, Kajal. Leaving Kajal with Apurna's family, Apu becomes a wanderer who has lost faith in everything. He even takes his novel,his semi-autobiographical prized work, and jettisons the pages off of a cliff. Everything that was his has now been taken or thrown away.

Five years pass. All who once knew him now know almost nothing of Apu's whereabouts. His young son is now a very troubled child, causing no end of mischief for his de facto guardians, his great aunt and uncle. In the midst of Kajal's turmoil, Pulu shows up. Upon seeing Kajal's behavior, he decides to seek out his old friend, Apu.

After losing his beloved wife, Apu becomes an aimless drifter.

After a little searching, Pulu finds Apu drifting between coal mining and writing jobs, saving money in order to leave the country. At Pulu's insistence, Apu confesses that he feels nothing for his son. He explains that he cannot get past the fact that it was Kajal's life that caused Apurna's death. Apu, therefore, feels that he cannot act as the child's father. Nevertheless, Pulu convinces Apu to at least visit his son to see if he might have a change of heart.

On returning to his in-laws' home, where Kajal is living, Apu faces more difficulty. His in-laws are rightfully accusatory, and Kajal greets him with willful reluctance. Apu explains who he is to his son, and even tries to melt away some of the bitter iciness that Kajal has for him. Alas, it does not seem to be, and Apu decides to leave for good.

On walking along the road from his son and his keepers' house, however, Apu turns back to see Kajal following him. Kajal seems to be interested in Apu, even if he does not want to believe that he is his real father. Kajal asks if, should he agree to go with Apu, they could go to Calcutta to “find his father,” a pact that Apu is glad to make. Father and son continue along the road, one tiny stitch mended from the shredded fabric of their relationship.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this first viewing, before any research)

The Apu Trilogy is an amazing piece of work, though one I may never feel the need to watch again.

After taking in the entire trilogy, it is clear that Satyajit Ray constructed a wonderfully unique set of films. The tale of Apu's growth into his late twenties blends universal sentiments that can move any viewer, yet the films have a distinctively regional feel. This masterful mixture is due to many components.

Here's a fantastic sequence from before and through the botched marriage. It actually makes for a great little mini-tale that can be taken completely on its own. Just start at the beginning and watch for a few minutes:



The story is one that has something for every fan of humanistic movies. Apu overcomes nearly-crushing poverty and personal tragedies through his intelligence and perseverance. Through the three movies, each successive death in his family takes a greater and greater toll on him. The first, his sister Durga's death, is one that the six-year old Apu moves past with an alacrity that only a young child can possess. In the second film, his father's passing is also overcome by the ten-year-old Apu's further bonding with his mother. When she too dies, he turns towards the beckoning word of academics for solace. When he is unable to see this through, his surprise marriage promises to give him the love that is missing. With the death of Apurna, however, Apu seems unable to cope any more. His devastation at this loss turns him into a rather unsympathetic character, though one can understand his plight in light of everything.

Running through the second half of the roughly five-and-a-half hour fully story is the conflict between Apu the artist and Apu the man. Any person who has attempted to carve out a livelihood in the creative arts can easily understand the friction that results when idealism meets the cold, hard realities of being a husband and father. The family tensions are always palpable, though not presented in the highly dramatic fashion of most popular drama.

How does director Ray communicate this to the viewer? Unlike most other directors, he uses very quiet moments of reflection during which you can see the calm anguish on certain characters' faces. With Ray often not relying on the dialogue to pass this along, we viewers have to adopt the same contemplative state that the characters show. It brings us closer to them by allowing us into their minds and spirits in a more authentic manner. A fine example is Apurna's arrival at Apu's run-down apartment in Calcutta. She arrives and Apu leaves the room for a moment. Apurna, still adorned in her wedding dress and make-up, sits down on his bed, looks out at the tattered neighborhood, and begins to cry softly. She never voices this initial disappointment, but I could feel it almost as if it were my own.

Here is a clip which includes that very scene. Start it at 6:20:


The backgrounds of India and Bangladesh, and Ray's integration of these areas, are a major part of what give the Apu Trilogy its distinctive look, sound and feel. With the eye of a cultural anthropologist, he includes the locales, music and customs of Bangladesh and India. We foreign viewers may not understand the reasons and feelings behind some of the traditions we see, but we can certainly grasp their significance for the characters in the tale. One of the many sequences that exemplifies this is the wedding. From Apurna being dressed up by her mother, aunts and sisters, to the actual ceremony itself, there is a wealth of visual wonders to take in. Ray set up these scenes and shot them so as to maximize our ability to slowly absorb them and dwell on what they mean to all characters involved.

I need to say more about Ray's general filming style. I still need to check on who the primary cinematographer was, but the final product is dazzling in its efficiency. An array of great work is done, from still to low-angle to wide-angle to panning shots, each technique is measured and executed perfectly. They draw the eye to exactly where it needs to be, while allowing one to take in the greater whole when necessary. Between the first and third films, I feel that Ray went from great to phenomenal in these respects. By even summoning certain sounds and images from the earlier films, such as windows, trains and beds, The World of Apu adds a satisfying sense of cohesion to the whole.

Here's a clip from near the end. You can pick any place and just watch for a little while. The work is so well-done that it's not hard to pick up the mood of the entire scene or figure out exactly what's going on:



The only complaint I can possibly imagine anyone leveling at these movies is that they are rather slow and mildly depressing. The truth is that I can't really argue against this. However, these are certainly cultural biases that would lead one to feel that the Apu Trilogy is not an “entertaining” set of films. Entertaining they may not be, but I feel that they transcend mere entertainment, and bring us something of greater depth and artistry. I may not ever be in the right frame of mind to sit through them again, but I have no doubt that these three movies will stay with me for the rest of my days.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research)

No real shockers in the digging. Here's what the professionals say:

Right from the jump, The Apu Trilogy, including the final installment, was recognized as a phenomenal piece of work. Between the three films, it raked in heaps of awards at film shows all over the world, and it opened up entire new worlds for Indian/Bengali filmmakers. Apparently, virtually all films in the region had been basic swashbucklers or musical romances (which is ironic, since there is a scene in the third film in which Apu and Apurna enjoy taking in an Indian pirate flick of just such fare). Even the TIME magazine reviewer in 1960 gushed about it. Here's their review.

Even more recent critics seem unable to ignore this black and white story that was done for a pittance. Roger Ebert brings up many of the things that I couldn't help notice, but articulates them better than I can, and of course adds a few minor observations in his review here.

The only other note of interest was what I dug up on the photographer. He was a man named Subrata Mitra, and, like nearly everyone else on the cast and crew, had never done any film work before Pather Panchali. To this day, filmmakers and critics alike all seem to marvel at just how Mitra, along with everyone else, wrung so much from such meager finances (the entire trilogy was made for $3,000! Try that in today's market!). I suppose it's amazing what true talent can do.

That's a wrap. 50 shows down, 53 to go.

Coming Soon: The 400 Blows (1959)

Joy of joys – French cinema verite comes alive. (Be sure to read that last sentence with an extremely sarcastic tone.) I can't say I've enjoyed the verite films that I've seen, including this one, but I'll try to watch this one with fresh eyes. Wish me "bon chance!"

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #46: Aparajito (1957)

* This film is the second in the “Apu Trilogy,” which I will be reviewing in full after I watch the final film, The World of Apu. This review will be relatively limited since it is considered only the middle portion of a larger whole.

Title for Us English-Speaking Types: “The Unvanquished”

Director: Satyajit Ray

Initial Release Country: Bangladesh

Times Previously Seen: none

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Poor Bengali boy reaches adolescence in Bangladesh and India.

Uncut Summary (A full plot synopsis, spoilers included. Fair warning)

When last we saw the six-year old Apu Roy, he was leaving his little forest village in Bangladesh, following the tragic death of his older sister.

It is now 1920 in Banares. The ten-year old Apu, his mother and priest father live in the packed city that straddles the holy Ganges. His father ekes out a living by administering rituals to the locals, and his mother tends their battered, ancient home. Apu, unable to go to school due to his family's extreme poverty, roams the streets and riverside, taking in the massive buildings and the strange local people.

Apu heeds his mother in the narrow alleys of Benares.

During an evening festival, Apu's father takes ill. After a struggle of a few days, he succumbs to his sickness and dies. With no other obvious source of income, Apu is trained as a priest and begins to conduct minor rituals around the city. Eventually, a wealthy family takes Apu's mother in as a housekeeper, which enables her to scratch together a modest amount of rupees, though this is hardly enough for anything beyond subsistence living. After a few months, mother and son pack up and move to the smaller town of Dewanpur.

In Dewanpur, Apu continues his work as a small-time local priest, young as he is. He one day discovers that there is a quality school nearby, and he begs his mother to enroll him. She takes what little money she has and does so. In school, Apu excels in his studies. He greatly impresses the instructors and superintendent at the school. They even give him extra work outside of class, which he absorbs with prodigious enthusiasm.

After roughly six years of superior work at school, Apu is offered a scholarship to a university in Calcutta. When he excitedly tells his mother, she grows very upset at the prospect of losing Apu, the only living member of her immediate family. She soon calms, however, and resignedly supports her son's desire to leave Dewanpur and go to Calcutta.

The adolescnent Apu somberly thinks about just how figurative that globe in his hands is.

In Calcutta, Apu takes residence in a print shop, where he works on the presses at night to make enough to support himself. During the day, he tries his best in class, but finds the amount of studying and night work overwhelming. He drifts off to sleep in the middle of the class, only to be called out and told to leave for the day. He does manage to stagger through the rest of his first semester, and returns to his mother for the holiday.

Back in Dewanpur, his mother is overjoyed to see him again. She has had little to do since her son's departure. She even tries to convince him to delay his return to Calcutta for a few days, so as to have a little more time with him. He tells her that he cannot, but he is somewhat stymied when his mother intentionally does not wake him for his return train. Initially angered, he decides to stay for one extra day. This seems to bring him a certain amount of inner peace.

Upon returning to Calcutta the next day, Apu becomes a studying and working machine. He now manages his printing job and his studies far more easily than before, and he once again seems to be on the track that will lead him out of poverty and towards far greater things. His mother, however, begins a slow mental and physical deterioration due to loneliness. She sends him a letter asking him to write more and come home for a few days to visit. Apu sends back a brief response, explaining that his impending exams demand that he stay in Calcutta to study.

Shortly after this, Apu receives a letter from his mother's friend. In it, he learns that his mother's health is failing. He returns home to find that she has passed away. He is distraught. By the next morning, though, he steels himself, packs his few belongings into his carrying sheet, and walks out of Dewanpur towards the train station, presumably to return to Calcutta and finish his education.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this first viewing, before any research)

Aparajito is a very logical continuation of its preceding chapter, Pather Panchali. As such, it requires the correct mood to watch. As with that first installment, I was in the proper frame of mind, which allowed me to see what an excellent film this is.

The similarities between the first two parts of the Apu trilogy are obvious and deep: they are thoroughly humanistic, being devoid of any hint of overdramatization or sentimentality. They both focus on a select few people. In Pather Panchali, it was clearly Apu and his mother, with his sister and father being lesser, though key, characters. With Apu's sister dead, and his father not lasting more than twenty minutes into it, Aparajito narrows the character focus even more. Everything is about Apu and his mother. The tale is a very delicate balance that conveys the deep, universal feelings of the maternal bond, and yet it never overplays its hand. Even if they wanted to, I feel that very few filmmakers could have pulled off this feat.

This clip contains a key moment, and a fine example of how Ray captured the very understandable connection between Apu and his mother. They have been in Dewanpur and Apu, 10, has been earning a bit of money as a child priest. Start it at 8:00:



The pace of Aparajito is blessedly faster than the first chapter. Pather Panchali, while masterful in its meditative state, was tryingly slow. This portion of Apu's life takes place in larger cities, amongst the ancient buildings and various peoples of Benares and Calcutta. For someone like me, who has never been anywhere close to these places, Apu serves as a proxy spy glass. As a wide-eyed village boy, he soaks in the new sights and sounds, and so do we. Director Satyajit Ray had to be aware of this, and plays up this relationship wonderfully.

I have to admit that a great amount of the appeal was certainly due to personal experience and bias. I myself am a teacher. This makes the entire sequence of Apu's academic progress a very easy thing to appreciate. As with all portions of these films, this is not high, fantastic drama, especially not to the average viewer. But to anyone who has worked with or watched someone as they sought their way in the world, such triumphs and progress are marvels to behold.

Of course, the strength of the movie comes from the emotional power imbued with the tale of Apu and his mother. Once his eminently likable father dies, Apu and his mother are even more tightly bound. This could easily have been the point where Satyajit Ray took the tale along one of many standard, cliched paths. Instead, he used a dash of familiar story lines that would ring true within his tale, and blended them perfectly. Apu and his mother show affection, love, respect, scorn, anger, and admiration for each other, all at different times and all in eminently authentic ways. As I stated in my review of Pather Panchali, this story has the very real feeling of a documentary rather than a work of fiction.

Here's a solid clip. Just watch from the beginning, and know that just prior, Apu has asked his mother if he can go to Calcutta to study. His mother initially panics and refuses. Apu gets surly and is slapped. He runs out of the house and to the nearby pond to sulk. That's where we pick up the scene. Just watch the two actors' faces throughout, to get a nice variety of emotion:



While Aparajito may feel like documentary, it is not documentary. If there is any doubt of it, one needs only look at the film itself. If Satyajit Ray worked cinematographic wonders with his first movie, his skills only grew greater in the years immediately following. On another shoestring budget, he shows an amazing eye for setting up shots, both long and close, to communicate both feelings of intimacy and feelings of awe. The larger cities seemed to be something of a playground for Ray, who used a variety of appropriate high and low angles to enmesh the viewer in the settings. The result is a film that, while nearly identical in spirit to Pather Panchali, has a very different aesthetic.

I suppose one could, after reading about how many of Apu's family members die in these first two movies, assume that this film is just a sad-sack tragedy. One could assume that. I, however, am reserving judgment until the final film. The first two chapters have been the story of a bright, precocious boy who has only just begun to hear the larger world calling out to him. He could not hear it in his earliest years due to his poverty, and he could not heed it fully as an adolescent due to his familial bonds. At the end of Aparajito, though, he seems to be walking towards that calling. I have a feeling that the final film of the trilogy, The World of Apu, may be something quite different. Whatever the case, I do look forward to the finale of Apu's tale.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after a little bit of research)

There's not really much to be found in this movie on its own, since most reviewers consider it the middle episode of a longer work. Of mild interest is that Aparajito raked in plenty of awards back in the day. Seemingly the most interesting is the fact that it is, to this very day, the only sequel that has ever won the award for “Best Film” at Venice Film Festival.

And so, with far more brevity than usual, that is a wrap. 46 shows down. 59 to go.

Coming Soon: Pyaasa (1957):

Bollywood, proper!! I know that India is a movie-mad country, and the Bollywood industry is as hulking as a rogue elephant. And yet, I've never actually watched a Bollywood picture. That's all about to change. Come on back and see how I take to it.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #42: Pather Panchali (1955)

* Pather Panchali is the 1st of a trilogy known as “The Apu Trilogy”. The 2nd and 3rd films, Aparajito & The World of Apu will be reviewed later in the list, but are considered a part of the same “film” by the reviewers at TIME who compiled the list that I'm working from.

Title for We English-Speaking Types: “Song of the Little Road”

Director: Satyajit Ray

Initial Release Country: India

Times Previously Seen: once (about 10 years ago)

Teaser Summary (Plot synopsis in 20 words or fewer. No spoilers)

Young Indian boy is born into poverty, lives with his sister, mother and oft-absent father.

Uncut Summary (The full plot, spoilers included. Fair warning)

In the 1940s (?) Bengal, India, the child Apu is born into a poor family. His father is a priest and poet who often struggles greatly to find work and pay for his family's needs. Apu's mother is a woman anguished by her own poverty, but is steadfast is trying to do right by her husband and children. Apu's sister, Durga, is roughly five years his senior, and is kindhearted, though she is mischievous enough to occasionally steal fruits from her wealthier aunt and cousins' nearby orchards. Also living with the family is their extremely elderly great aunt, who does little more than sit and make the occasional observation.

When Apu reaches the age of six, he is sent to school, a place where he finds the teacher rather frightening. By now, he has developed a very typical brother-sister relationship with Durga – the two annoy each other plenty, but genuinely love and protect each other from any possible harm, whether it be their scowling aunt, the absence of their wandering father, their sometimes angered mother, or the more abstract shame of being obviously poor.

Apu and Durga share a typical sibling moment.

One afternoon, with their father off in a large city to find work in either a religious or artistic capacity, a monsoon tears into the forest where Apu and his family live. Apu and Durga are stuck outside of their home, and Durga huddles close to her little brother to protect him from the relentless rains. After the storm passes, Durga takes horribly ill and dies within a few days. Apu's father returns the next day to discover the tragedy and collapses with his wife in grief.

In the wake of their daughter's death, Apu's parents decide to move the family away from their ancestral home and to the massive city of Benares, where they home to find more work, a better life, and leave their tragedies behind them. As a wagon takes the family away, Apu looks back on the only place he has known for his six years on earth.

Apu dons a hand-made prince's crown, perhaps suggesting a desire for greater things.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this most recent viewing, before any research on the film)

Entrancing movie, if you're in just the right mood for it. If you're not, you're bound to find it slow, boring and may have trouble finding the point of it. I was in the mood, so count me in the former group.

Of the 42 films I've watched for this blog, Pather Panchali is easily the most humanist and naturalistic of the lot, and I suspect it may end up holding that title throughout the list. The story is the furthest thing possible from high drama that you can get. It's all about communicating all of the most basic, shared human emotions. The vehicle for this is the six year old boy Apu, a cute-as-can-be kid whose happiness, fear, love, disappointment, and shame shine as clear as day in his massive eyes.

This is the link to a great youtube clip that shows the great relationship between Apu and Durga. It's actually enhanced by the lack of English subtitles, as the dynamics, facial expressions, gestures and music tell the tale as well as any dialogue could.

The trick is that, on the surface, this story may seem as foreign as humanly possible. Not many of us in the Western Hemisphere would have an inkling of how a family in India lives, let alone a dirt-poor family in a small village in 1940s India. Yet, it only takes about 10 minutes of film to completely see so much of the universally human qualities being displayed in the tale Apu and his family. Even more than the stylistically similar Tokyo Story, Pather Panchali gives the feeling of watching a documentary rather than a piece of fiction.

This is not to say that the movie is solely a grim or depressing affair. Generously sprinkled throughout the tale of Apu's boyhood are many moments of good humor and pleasantness, those essential assets of survival for anyone in arduous conditions. His ancient great aunt makes a few good cracks and her constant threats to leave become rather amusing. The little looks of mocking and impish glee that Apu and Durga share between each other are bound to make anyone with a soul smile despite themselves. These lighthearted elements make it all the more tragic when Durga dies suddenly later in the film. These are no longer carefully crafted characters, but very real people whose pain is evident and evokes real emotion.

When I think about the acting, my educational background in anthropology kicks in a bit, and I try to think in term of cultural relativity. While I don't know what the standards are for Indian actors, the acting in Pather Panchali seems very solid to me. However, it's impossible to compare them to performances like Marlon Brando or Humphrey Bogart. Playing Terry Malloy or Rick Blaine is a different animal altogether, but the actors in Satyajit Ray's humanist drama do exactly what they are supposed to – act like completely real people. It's more subtle and perhaps not quite as demanding as the western tradition of drama, but it works marvelously for this movie.

The technical merits of the movie are fantastic. From the very beginning, as we follow a 7-year old Durga running through the forest, the soundtrack sitar playfully accompanies her traipsing along. This same instrument appropriately picks in during several other moments of joy and happiness in the film, and it's just one of several sound and camera elements that enhance the various moods experienced by the characters. The filming is done so that I felt very much like I had a excellent sense of Apu's little part of the Bengali forest and everything in it. It's very much the same feeling I get when watching Kurosawa's Seven Samurai – by the end of that movie, I feel like I know that little Japanese village, front to back. Pather Panchali has the same absorbing effect.

This isn't a movie for all comers. Like films that I've reviewed recently (Tokyo Story, Ikiru, Umberto D.), it's one that everyone should probably watch at least once, though one that I can hardly guarantee will be “enjoyed”. It is now clear that the 1950s was the beginning of the very real transition of films from mere fantastic, melodramatic storytelling medium to one of very somber, humanist tales. Up until this point, such things had been the purview of literature. No longer. Films like those aforementioned were clearly changing films as people knew them.

Entertaining? Perhaps not. Revolutionary? Definitely.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research)

Being the first of a coherent trilogy, isolated research on Pather Panchali is a bit tricky. As such, I'll keep this section brief and do a more thorough look at all three films after watching them all.

One of the most remarkable things about Pather Panchali is that it was Satyajit Ray's first film, was done on a budget of approximately $3000 U.S., and that very few of the actors or production crew had any kind of experience in cinema. This undoubtedly lent the air of needed verisimilitude. For such a crew to create such a landmark film is indeed a rarity that speaks to Ray's unique vision.

However, the vision was not without its powerful influences. Probably the two most notable are the French director Jean Renoir and the then-blooming style of Italian neorealism. Apparently, Jean Renoir went to India to film The River, and was put into contact with Ray, who was then working as an illustrator and general film enthusiast. When Ray discussed his ideas for adapting the novel Pather Panchali, Renoir offered plenty of encouragement. After spending several months in London, absorbing every movie he could get his hands on, Ray returned to India with the mission of making his movie.

After watching such films as The Bicycle Thieves, the neorealist film by Vittorio de Sica and forerunner of other movies like Umberto D., Ray knew that this was the style that would best suit the tale of the young Apu in his impoverished Bengali village. When one sees both films, the similarities are as clear as day.

Critical reception of Pather Panchali was mostly glowing, though this was not universal. While many saw the movie as an incredibly powerful document of human life in a previously little-known segment of the world, others found it difficult to stomach. French film titan Francois Truffaut claimed to never want to watch “peasants eating with their hands,” and some in the Indian government thought the film was “exporting poverty”. Still, the detractors were outnumbered by those who found endless lyricism and merit in the movie.

A final, less important note is that the snappy sitar soundtrack was provided by none other than the now internationally famous Ravi Shankar (just how many sitar players can you name?), a then little-known musician who was just starting to carve out his career. This was just one of the many little things that fell into just the right place to make this singular movie.

Here's another link to the final moments of the movie. Be warned that it contains serious spoilers for anyone interested in watching the film and maintaining the power of the unknown. Otherwise, it's a good representation of the things that the movie conveyed.

Again, there is obviously more to the tale of Apu that is told in the second and third installments of the series, and a more complete run-down of the analysis will accompany my reviews of those movies. For now, though...

That's a wrap. 42 shows down, 63 to go.

Coming Soon: Smiles of a Summer Night (1955)


A relatively early film by the insanely prolific Swedish film icon, Ingmar Bergman. I've seen quite a few of Bergman's other film, which can be challenging, to say the least. This one, by the looks of the poster however, may be of lighter fair. We shall see.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.