CHARULATA: The Intimacies of a Broken Nest

by Neel Chaudhuri

Neel Chaudhuri holds a Masters in film and television studies from the University of Warwick, U.K. He is currently about to begin working with the Asian film journal Cinemaya in India.

On a visit to London in 1984, Satyajit Ray had the occasion to watch Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom while his own Ghare-Baire (The Home and the World) premiered at the now-defunct Academy Cinema. According to Andrew Robinson, Ray sat “impassively” throughout the film and “afterwards… admitted to feeling somewhat depressed that audiences seemed to enjoy such unrelenting action”. There is little to be mystified by in this reaction, and one only has to watch a film like Ghare-Baire to understand why. Even while he poeticises the passage of a train through his cinematic landscape in Pather Panchali (1955), Ray remains largely committed to a social-realist imperative in his cinema. In 1966, following the critical success of Charulata, Ray wrote that he had chosen for himself “the field of intimate cinema… of mood and atmosphere rather than of grandeur and spectacle”. Subsequently, an assessment of his worth as an artist has often been inclined towards this intimacy in his films, especially when examined against the charging herd of popular Indian cinema. However, in Charulata there is evidence of a cinema born out of the exquisite love affair between intimacy and spectacle – and not spectacle in the “Indiana Jones” sense of the word, but an Ophulsian cinematic spectacle.

Charulata belongs to that venerable category of films that unabashedly display their complexities, and are readily regarded as “exemplary” because of the delightful struggle involved in talking or writing about them. For several Ray enthusiasts – including my mother – it is the director's masterpiece, a film that has been likened to Mozart's music (but with little objective justification), and is cinematically “close to perfection”. Set in a late 19th century Bengali middle-class household, it revolves around Charu, a lonely and childless housewife, and her efforts to alleviate the ennui in which she lives. She is married to Bhupati, an affluent bhadralok, too consumed in disseminating Western liberalism through his English-language newspaper to pay any attention to his wife. The inertia is their marriage seems convenient until it is interrupted by the arrival of Bhupati's cousin, Amal, who is full of youthful virtues – exuberance, poetic idealism, naiveté. In his presence, Charu begins to reject her habitual proximity towards the Prachina (Conservative Woman) – a figure satirised by writers of the time as one who lolls around in bed, reads pulp fiction and only thinks of herself, and is typified by Charu's sister-in-law, Manda. By contrast, as a Nabina (Modern Woman), Charu freely exercises an unassuming intellect and harbours a latent sexual attraction towards Amal. However, Charu spends most of the narrative oscillating between the Prachina and the Nabina; she is never quite one or the other. The film reaches its climax: Amal is unwilling to betray his cousin's trust that has already suffered at the hands of Charu's swindling brother, Umapada. He abruptly leaves, and after Charu hysterically submits to her disappointment in the presence of Bhupati, there is nothing left but for the forsaken woman and her humiliated husband to forge a contrived reconciliation.

What begins as a seemingly straightforward character study quickly develops into a scathing critique of the social hypocrisies of the Bengali Renaissance. Charu becomes representative of a generation of women, encouraged to experience a sense of liberty and independence, but only within the andarmahal (inner sanctum of the house). Ray's structural and aesthetic approach to the delicate complexities of his thematics and narrative deserves careful scrutiny, and has certainly not gone unnoticed, but for the sake of brevity it is perhaps appropriate to only highlight the key aspects of his strategy. In the opening segment of the film (roughly 7 and a half minutes), Ray takes full advantage of the cinematic apparatus at his disposal, in search of a “language entirely free from literary and theatrical influences”. Dialogue is almost done away with; sound cues and music are carefully selected and introduced with pin-point precision, and the action and camera movement are orchestrated to mediate between Charu's reflective pauses and moments of acceleration. The end result is a wonderfully intricate, almost composed tableau that already discloses Ray's thematic concerns as well as his formal approach.

Two specific moments of this sequence deserve a brief mention – the first, when Charu animatedly scrutinises the life outside her windows through a pair of opera glasses. Used recurrently as a self-reflexive motif in the film, the glasses draw significant attention to the magnification of banal activity (the street, Charu's boredom) into a spectacle, as well as making reference to an enforced spatial confinement (her restriction within the andarmahal, ours within our cinema seat). The second moment occurs towards the end of the sequence, when Bhupati walks past Charu in the hallway without noticing her. A momentary frame is created when Bhupati very briefly stops in his tracks to examine the book he is engrossed in. Charu is positioned a step behind within the frames of the ornate doors, implying an almost helpless vanity. The image, the pause, the positioning – all become highly symptomatic of the inertia that this relationship is based upon. In making the pause momentary, Ray projects this inertia as a trajectory, or the linear progression of a state of affairs, rather than a picture of complete stasis and inactivity. Charu's condition is not something that just is, but rather something that continues to be, a persisting “sameness” hidden in the wings of a period of socio-political mobility.

Significantly, when first released, Charulata was widely regarded as being slow and sluggish. Yet, it is a film that features continuous movement. Unlike in Ophuls' Lola Montes (1955), the visual dissonance between the vigorously mobile and the inert protagonist does not translate into an agency-captivity/movement-passivity dialectic. Even while celebrating motion on a swing in her garden, Charu is never entirely mobile. The creaking of the branches as the ropes stretch against them is much too real. Having briefly taken flight, the bird must return to her broken nest. Tagore's novella Nastanirh (The Broken Nest) on which Ray's screenplay is based, ends with the Bengali word Thak (literally, “let it be”). In search of an equally meaningful cinematic resolution, Ray terminates his film with a striking freeze, reminiscent of Truffaut's Les Quatre Cents Coups (1959). Charu and Bhupati stand captured in an inescapable moment of stasis, their hands outstretched towards each other in quiet recognition.

© Neel Chaudhuri, March 2004

APUR SANSAR (1959):

Summary:

Apur Sansar is the third and final film of the The Apu Trilogy. Apu (Soumitra Chatterjee) is now a graduate and without a job. He lives in a rented room next to a busy railway yard. He finds himself among a large population of the unemployed youth in the city. To pay his rent, he has to sell his books. The job search turns out to be an amusing and a tormenting experience. Unfazed, He is writing a novel based on his life, which he hopes will make him famous. His life takes a turn, however, when he meets his old friend Pulu. He coerces Apu to travel to his ancestral village to attend the wedding of his cousin, Aparna (Sharmila Tagore). On the boat ride to the village Pulu reads Apu's manuscript and appreciates the work.

On the day of the wedding, the bridegroom turns out to be mentally deranged and the wedding is cancelled. The villagers believe if she is not married before the auspicious hour passes, the ill-fated bride can never be married again. Apu primarily of out sympathy for the bride and some convincing by Pulu, agrees to be the substitute groom. He has not even seen her yet.The marriage takes place and Apu and his young wife return to his Calcutta apartment. Soon, a warm and caring relationship develops. Apu willingly takes up the clerical job that he has so far avoided.

The marital bliss, however, is short lived. Pregnant, she goes to her parents' place and dies during the childbirth. Apu's world shatters as he receives the news of Aparna's death. Sunken in grief, he refuses to even see the child whom he holds responsible for his wife's death. He leaves Calcutta to lead the life of a wanderer.About five years pass, Apu's friend Pulu, who had been abroad, is shocked to find the child growing wild and not cared for. Pulu goes in search of Apu and requests to take responsibility for his son, Kajal. Reluctantly, Apu comes back to the village. On seeing Kajal, Apu is overwhelmed by affection. Now it is the child who refuses to accept him as his father. Apu wins over the little boy. The child accepts him as a friend, though not as a father yet. United, they leave for Calcutta to make a new beginning...

Comments:

In Apur Sansar, Ray introduced two new actors who would become regulars for Ray films, Soumitra Chatterjee played Apu and Sharmila Tagore played his young wife Aparna. By way of experience, Soumitra Chatterjee was a radio announcer and had only played a small role in a Bengali stage production and Sharmila was just a fourteen-year-old with no previous acting experience. As the shooting began, Ray had to shout instructions to Sharmila during the takes. None of this, however, is reflected on the screen. Both tuned out be quick learners and gave memorable performances.

Soumitra Chatterjee played many roles in Ray's later films (15 films) and became the most sought after actor in Bengali cinema. Sharmila Tagore went on to become a very successful actress in Bombay's Hindi films. She returned to work in later films of Ray such as Devi, Nayak, Aranyer Din Ratri and Seemabaddha.

The sequences of Apu and Aparna in Calcutta, are the most striking and cinematic part of the film. In the beginning of the film, we have seen Apu's room as a bachelor's apartment. Now there are two pillows on the bed, curtains on the windows and a plant on the windowsill. The apartment has a clear touch of a woman's presence. Apu awakes and finds a hairpin lying between the pillows. Still lying in the bed, Apu observes Aparna with a fixed gaze as she goes about doing the household chores. Aparna asks, "Haven't you seen your wife before?" Apu smiles, plays with the hairpin and picks up his pack of cigarettes. As he opens the pack, he finds a note from Aparna inside, "You promised not to smoke more than one after meals!" Apu smiles again and puts the pack away. With simple actions and situation, the intimacy is established. After seeing the film, Renoir is said to have remarked that intimacy had been suggested without showing even a single embrace.

Later in the film, Aparna is leaving to be at her parents' place for childbirth. She lights a match to light the cigarette that Apu has put in his mouth. The flame brings a glow to her face. Apu asks, "what is in your eyes?" "Kajal" (mascara / kohl), she replies with a mischief. Later, the son born to her would also be named "Kajal". Aparna dies off-screen. Her brother brings the bad news. This is a lyrical and inspired sequence. Apu is working and carrying Aparna's letter in his pocket. Towards the end of the day, he can no longer wait to read the letter. A touching letter is heard in Aparna's voice. Apu in interrupted by a fellow clerk. He takes out the letter again to continue reading on his way home in a crowded tram. A passenger peeps over his shoulders to read, forcing him to put the letter back again. He finishes reading the letter during the walk home by the railway yard. With Aparna's voice still in his mind, he sees her brother waiting for him. Apu's smile vanishes; he senses something wrong. As Aparna's brother conveys the news of her death, Apu looses control. His world is shattered. He slaps the messenger, staggers to his room and collapses on the bed.What follows is a long, wonderful and speechless sequence; dealing with Apu's grief. Satyajit Ray describes in 'My Years with Apu' - "The grief-stricken Apu lies in bed for days. ...

At one point, however, Apu rises from the bed. He hasn't got over his grief. He stands leaning against the wall. The camera moves to the shaving mirror to show his blank look. Off screen is heard the screech of a train whistle. Apu reacts. The camera moves closer to his face. His eyes have a new look. The screen turns white. There is the sound of a rushing train and smoke rises from the bottom of the screen in what is now established as sky. The camera moves back to show Apu in close up, obviously standing by the railway track. The smoke approaches, then we see the engine. Apu, his face still a blank, slowly leans forward, preparing to throw himself before the train. Suddenly, a screech is heard. It is the cry of a pig, which has been run over by the train. Apu's spell is broken and with it his determination to take his own life.

In the final moments of the film, Kajal has rejected Apu... When Apu's father-in-law is about to strike Kajal with a stick because he has refused to leave with Apu, Apu rescues Kajal instinctively. A hint of trust begins to develop. Apu starts to walk away as he has given up hope of earning Kajal's love. But Kajal has now decided to trust Apu. He runs away to join Apu as grandfather watches from a distance. Apu sweeps up Kajal in his arms. Both leave for a new life together with Apu carrying Kajal on his shoulders. Apur Sansar was a big box office success both at home and abroad.

Awards:

President's Gold Medal, New Delhi, 1959
Sutherland Award for Best Original And Imaginative Film, London, 1960
Diploma Of Merit, 14th International Film festival, Edinburgh, 1960
Best Foreign Film, National Board of Review of Motion Pictures, USA, 1960

APARAJITO (1956)

Summary:

1920. Harihar, Sarbajaya and their ten-year-old son Apu, live in the Temple City of Bananas (Varanasi) on the banks of the holy river Ganga (Ganges). Harihar earns a meagre living by reciting religious scriptures. The film opens with Apu wandering and exploring the city. He also encounters their neighbour Nanda Babu, who would soon make a pass at Sarbajaya.Harihar falls ill with fever and collapses at the riverbank. In the early hours of the next morning, Sarbajaya wakes Apu to fetch holy water from the river to put in his father's mouth as he is dying.

Harihar's death leaves mother and son to fend for themselves.The mother decides to return with Apu to live in a village where an old uncle works as a priest. Apu's mother works to support the family. Apu is initiated into priesthood and takes over the old man's work. He is unhappy because he wants to go to school. Apu persuades his mother to send him to school. She makes sacrifices so that he might pursue his studies.

Apu, now sixteen, wins a scholarship and departs for Calcutta, leaving her alone. It breaks Sarbajaya's heart, but she relents. Her health is failing, and the loneliness in the village takes its toll.Engulfed in city life - studying during the day and working in a printing press at night to pay for his expenses - Apu grows away from his mother. His visits get shorter as the time passes. This emotional distance unnoticed by the growing Apu, hurts Sarbajaya deeply. She waits silently for her son's visit as her illness accelerates and falls into a depression. On a night sparkling with dancing fireflies, Sarbajaya dies. Apu comes back to an empty house. He grieves for his mother, but soon finds strength to leaves the village for the last time, to carry on with his new life in the city...

Comments:

Aparajito is the second film in "The Apu Trilogy", preceded by Pather Panchali and followed by Apur Sansar. The film is basically about Apu growing up and growing away from his mother. The highlight of the film is the mother-son relationship and conflict. The characterisation of Apu and mother are a treat. Karuna Banerjee gives a brilliant performance as Sarbajaya.

As usual, the film is devoid of excesses both in form and content. The two deaths, of Harihar and Sarbajaya, are handled with great elegance.At dawn Harihar lies ill with Sarbajaya sitting beside him though the night. He mumbles, "Ganga". He is asking for a sip of holy water from the river 'Ganga'. Sarbajaya wakes Apu to fetch water from the holy river. Apu brings the water. Sarbajaya lifts Harihar's head and pours the water in his mouth. Harihar's head drops back on the pillow. Cut to a shot of a flock of pigeons taking off and whirling in the sky. Harihar has been freed of his misery...

In the sequence of Sarbajaya's death - Evening, Sarbajaya is sitting leaning against a tree outside her house, awaiting Apu's return. A train passes but she does not react, as she knows Apu is not on this train. Next, we see her sitting in the veranda of the house, expressionless. Suddenly, she hears Apu calling her. She is hallucinating. Hoping that Apu has returned, she drags herself out. As she stands looking for Apu, she sees a group of fireflies swirling by the pond. Filming of this scene posed a technical challenge, as even the fastest available film stock could not capture the light emitted by the fireflies. Ray and his crew overcame the problem with an indigenous solution. Ray recounts in his 'My Years with Apu', "... We chose the toughest members of our crew, had them dressed up in black shirt and trousers and let each of them carry a flashlight bulb and a length of wire and a battery. The bulbs were held aloft in their right hands while they illustrated the swirling movements of fireflies in a dance, alternately connecting and disconnecting the wire to the bulbs..."

Awards

Golden Lion of St. Mark, Venice, 1957
Cinema Nuovo Award, Venice, 1957
Critics Award, Venice, 1957
FIPRESCI Award, London, 1957
Best Film and Best Direction, San Francisco, 1958
International Critic' Award, San Francisco, 1958
Golden Laurel for Best Foreign Film of 1958-59, USA
Selznik Golden Laurel, Berlin, 1960
Bodil Award: Best Non-European Film of the Year, Denmark, 1967

PATHER PANCHALI (1955)

Summary:

The time is early twentieth century, a remote village in Bengal. The film deals with a Brahmin family, a priest - Harihar, his wife Sarbajaya, daughter Durga, and his aged cousin Indir Thakrun - struggling to make both ends meet.Harihar is frequently away from home on work. The wife is raising her mischievous daughter Durga and caring for elderly cousin Indir, whose independent spirit sometimes irritates her... Apu is born. With the little boy's arrival, happiness, play and exploration uplift the children's daily life.

Durga and Apu share an intimate bond. They follow a candy seller whose wares they cannot afford, enjoy the theatre, discover a train and witness a marriage ceremony. They even face death of their aunt - Indir Thakrun. Durga is accused of a theft. She falls ill after a joyous dance in monsoon rains. On a stormy day, when Harihar is away on work, Durga dies. On Harihar's return, the family leaves their village in search of a new life in Benaras. The film closes with an image of Harihar, wife and son - Apu, slowly moving way in an ox cart.

Comments:

Pather Panchali is Ray's debut film, and the first film of his 'The Apu trilogy'. The remaining two films of the trilogy, Aparajito and Apur Sansar, follow Apu as the son, the man and finally the father. Pather Panchali has a universal humanist appeal. Though the film deals with the grim struggle for survival by a poor family, it has no trace melodrama. What is projected in stead is the respect for human dignity.

The most loveable character is that of Indir Thakrun, an old, cynical, loving and storytelling aunt of Apu and Durga. It was played by an 80-year-old Chunibala, a retired theatre performer who relished coming back into the limelight after 30 years of obscurity.The sequences of Apu and elder sister Durga, exploring their little world and sharing secrets are most remarkable aspect of the film. These include the scenes of - discovery of train by Durga and Apu in field of white Kash flowers, the candy seller sequence, and Indir Thakrun's death.In the inspired 'candy-seller' sequence, as Durga and Apu secretly relish tamarind paste, their mother is complaining about hardships to their father. Durga hears a faint bell. She knows it is the candy-seller. Both go out and look longingly at the pots with sweets in them. Durga sends Apu to ask for money from their father. Mother intervenes, and Apu returns empty handed. But the sight of the pot-bellied candy-seller carrying two bobbing pots of sweets is too tempting to resist. Both start following him. A stray dog joins the procession as it is reflected in a shimmering pond.

The film develops its characters and the atmosphere slowly and resolutely. The narrative builds up to a powerful climax as we begin to empathise with the characters. Some critics found the film to be too slow. Satyajit Ray wrote about the slow pace - "The cinematic material dictated a style to me, a very slow rhythm determined by nature, the landscape, the country. The script had to retain some of the rambling quality of the novel because that in itself contained a clue to the authenticity: life in a poor Bengali village does ramble."

Towards the end of the film, after death of Durga, we see Apu brushing his teeth, combing his hair... going about performing tasks, which would have involved his sister or mother. Sarbajaya (mother) has a lost look... Harihar returns, unaware of Durga's death. In a jovial mood he calls out his children. Without any reaction, Sarbajaya fetches water and a towel for him. Harihar begins to show the gifts he has brought for them. When he shows a sari that he has bought for Durga, Sarbajaya breaks down. We hear the high notes of a musical instrument "Tarshahnai" symbolising her uncontrollable weeping. Realising Durga's loss, Harihar collapses on his wife. We see a speechless Apu, for the first time taking the centre stage in the story. Till now the story was seen through the point of view of either Sarbajaya or Durga. It is only in these final moments that we see Apu as an independent individual.

In the USA, Pather Panchali played at the 5th Avenue Playhouse for a record 36 weeks, breaking the previous record held by The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.

Awards:
President's Gold & Silver Medals, New Delhi, 1955
Best Human Document, Cannes 1956
Diploma Of Merit, Edinbugh, 1956
Vatican Award, Rome, 1956
Golden Carbao, Manila, 1956
Best Film and Direction, San Francisco, 1957
Selznik Golden Laurel, Berlin, 1957
Best Film, Vancouver, 1958
Critics' Award - Best Film, Stratford, (Canada), 1958
Best Foreign Film, New York, 1959
Kinema Jumpo Award: Best Foreign Film, Tokyo 1966
Bodil Award: Best Non-European Film of the Year, Denmark, 1966