Mark at the Movies guest columnist Kathy Shaidle is back, this time with her take on the 1955 Bengali classic Pather Panchali.
"Not to have seen the cinema of Satyajit Ray means existing in the world without seeing the sun or the moon." – Akira Kurosawa
When Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali debuted at the 1955 Cannes Film Festival, no less a personage than Francois Truffaut stomped out early, declaiming, "I don't want to see a movie about peasants eating with their hands."
He wasn't on the jury that year, though. Pather Panchali won — not the Palme D'Or, the Grande Prix or even the Special Jury Prize (Cannes' "Miss Congeniality") — but the "Most Human Document" award, which (as its off-key, by-committee moniker attests) the jury cooked up on the fly.
And has never handed out since.
Such are the paradoxes of Pather Panchali:
Perennially lauded as one of the greatest films ever made by Sight & Sound and Time Out, its director wasn't a "director" at all. Ray, a Calcutta graphic artist and cinephile, had imbibed 99 European films during a business trip to London. De Sica's neorealist Bicycle Thieves impressed him most; he resolved to somehow make a similar movie, one made in and about India, but stringently stripped of Bollywood's already formulaic wacky dance numbers, overripe colour and manic histrionics. Ray's Pather Panchali "cinematographer" had never operated a movie camera before the first day of shooting. His "actors" (but for one) were amateurs.
Basically, Satyajit Ray was Ed Wood, but with talent.
Or rather, instinct. Except that isn't right, either.
The trouble with talking about Pather Panchali is that, well, you have to use words...
Here's the easiest part:
Pather Panchali is a slice of one family's life, set in rural India circa 1910. The father, an itinerant poet-priest, nurtures fantasies of success which (we realize during his first scene — WATCH) will never materialize. His wife (need I add the adjective "long suffering"?) is mostly left alone to raise their two children: impish little Apu and his enigmatic older sister Durga, by turns caring and careless. Rounding out the household is the inevitable "aunty," a toothless old woman so withered and bent she resembles (barely) ambulatory driftwood.
Apu and Durga play and fight and grow, and Mother and Aunty squabble and perform their repetitious, quotidian chores, in and around their broken-down home in the midst of what might as well be a jungle. Their neighbours are relatively better off (even in their poverty), and delight in rubbing that in.
At this point, some of you may be thinking that Truffaut guy might've been onto something...
I first watched Pather Panchali on TCM last May, merely to discharge a "see before you die" duty. This film — with its unpronounceable title and director, its nobody cast and beyond-foreign, unglamorous milieu — had been sandwiched between Citizen Kane and The Rules of the Game on every "great movies" list I'd ever seen. So damnitall, I was gonna sit through it, however penitentially.
Especially since TCM was airing Criterion's painstaking restoration, performed twenty years after the film's original negatives were charred in a freak fire.
Just five minutes in (WATCH), I was poised to bail. But I'd experienced that identical sensation at the start of another highly regarded movie, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943), which is now one of my absolute touchstones.
So as Pather Panchali inched along at its caterpillar pace, I resolved not to reach for the remote.
Two hours later...
Back to my struggle for words.
It may help to focus on (an, alas, unrestored clip of) Pather Panchali's iconic set piece. (Don't be put off — the Criterion edition looks like a newly minted nickel):
Durga leads Apu far from the village, to show him something he's only heard rumors about. They sometimes run, sometimes meander, across field after field after field. No sooner have they stopped to rest at last than they hear the thing approach, at a heavy-breathing gallop — then pass them by as quickly as it came:
A director like Fellini would have to be physically restrained from stencilling "SYMBOL" on that train's engine. And indeed, critics claim the train in Pather Panchali represents Modernity or Hope or The (God help me) Partition of India or any number of Capitalized Words.
These critics must have watched a different movie. Because I do not believe that, any more than I believe the snake in the film symbolizes Doom or the dead frog splayed on its back after the monsoon symbolizes, er, Death.
Pather Panchali, almost alone in the annals of "art cinema," is devoid of symbols.
The train is a train. The monsoon, an unfortunate climactic commonplace in that particular part of the world. Snakes do not slither through the ruins of houses on cue, to thoughtfully ornament our personal tragedies. Frogs die.
And so do people. There are two deaths in Pather Panchali, one expected, one not. By the time the latter occurred, and the devastating penultimate scene had come and gone (and I realized I'd forgotten, for who knows how long, to breathe) I'd been bewitched by the film's uncommon lack of guile, its still-revolutionary ability to inspire authentic empathy and awe without resorting to the manipulative "cue the orchestra!" movie trickery of either "-wood," be it "Bolly-" or "Holly-."
Think of its roughest Hollywood equivalent, 1940's The Grapes of Wrath: An outright propaganda piece, based on a balderdash novel, its "look" lifted from Dorthea Lange photos (which were posed, by the way, and worse, its impoverished subjects uncompensated.)
Whereas Pather Panchali has no message, no politics. It is not an outrage delivery mechanism, cynically crafted to Change the World (Or Else).
Rather, like its train and its jungle, its umbrellas and cows, Pather Panchali is elemental, The Thing Itself. Its title translates into Song of the Little Road, but I will always think of it as being Bengali for, simply:
This.
The next morning, the burden on my heart was still there, the one I'd tried to wish away when I'd turned off the TV and pulled up the covers. I rarely recall my dreams for more than a split second after I wake up, but I remember, still, that I'd dreamt of Pather Panchali.
Maybe you will too.
If you enjoyed Kathy's take on this film, let her know in the comments below. Though some may get to let her know on the upcoming Mark Steyn Cruise to Alaska. This voyage is sold out, alas, but cabins are now available for the third edition of the cruise, next year's sailing through the Mediterranean. Details are available here. Remember that SteynOnline content is made possible by the generous support of Mark Steyn Club members. We're now in our third year of the Club, with lots of great things planned for the coming months. Become a part of them here.
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Very enjoyed Kathy's highlighting of this interesting film and the story around it. Took a few minutes to confirm Kathy's use of the first quote by Akira Kurosawa is loaded with meaning - he was indeed the same director for the Samurai classic 'Yojimbo' film, which was remade almost camera angle for angle into the first of the 'spaghetti westerns' - 'For a Few Dollars More' with Clint Eastwood. And the 'classic western' LOL! ...'The Magnificent Seven' - a remake of Kurosawa's marathon 'Seven Samurai'
Proves 1) human nature is consistent everywhere - bad guys always bully nice people 2) hollywood doesn't have an original creative brain cell in the whole lot of them and needs to take from someone else's smarts and hard work.
Later, it all manifested in 'A Bugs's Life' a really clever and entertaining vaudeville mash-up of 'The Grasshopper and the Ant' with the "Seven Samuraii/Magnificent Seven'
:)
Thank you, Kathy, for the heartfelt words that provided the motivation to take a break from my own quotidian chores and immerse myself in this, the most human of stories.
I haven't watched the film yet, but reading Kathy's *description* of it was emotional for me. Kathy has a way with the words, to say the least. Now, for the movie...
Wow, thank you very much, Rick. I hope you will check it out one day.
Very interesting! Didn't know about this (did know about the way Bollywood steals every Hollywood film ever - more times than not doing it better, other times cringingly worse, but totally serving the public in a few hours of complete escapism from the daily hard work grind.) After watching the train scene, one suspects that the elite directors couldn't stand having a complete neophyte plus un-trained cast who could easily out-pose the 'professionals' more than rival their expensive, agenda-driven, constructed products delivered by Hollywood's groomed family-oligarchy actor caste. Probably couldn't risk the challenge to the machine, hence the sniffy public drama walk-outs and probably out-of-sight heavy back-room pressure to discourage any praise or attention to it.
You just reminded me: I forgot to add that Truffaut later watched the film straight through and apologized, joining the chorus of others who appreciated it.
Ray also took some abuse back in his homeland, for "exposing" India's poverty to the world. For all I know, some in India still resent that.
That's interesting, his second thoughts. We're a bit suspicious that perhaps he knew from the get-go that it was at the level of his peers, worried. But despite later praise and accolades, was the financing door never truly opened to Ray, the 'tell' on that industry?
Yes, a number of Indians would have been resentful about 'exposing' poverty to the world, but the reason makes sense if one thinks about it. Indians are extremely sensitive to being looked as second class citizens in the world, a result of being second class under colonialisation. They want to be considered as equal in respect as a nation, so they are embarassed by anything showing what they don't consider their best sides. That's fair enough - a pride shared by everyone and every nation on the planet. Yet, their rigid caste system created and perpetuates most of the problems and drags their economic growth. Locking down at the lowest opportunities in life 300 million people who could do so much more into a social, mental and economic prison of 'unclean' is a nation trying to walk with an iron ball and chain locked to its ankle. It's quite possible plenty elites didn't approve that someone of his caste should have 'gone there,' so to speak, that Ray overstepped the boundaries of his proper,clear, birth-right expectations and duties.
Incidentally, in June of 2019, Many many Australians in their tens of thousands are happy to leave mullions of Indians in poverty by questioning why on earth they should have access to 'their' high quality coking coal. As has been pointed out by many, by the left declared, that the last election was the 'CLIMATE CHANGE' election. Well indeed, you lost, you got flogged, so how let's ship our coal to Asia and india and help lift these poor deserving souls out of poverty.
I know I wrote something to post about this film review but it has vanished. I'm sure I saved it. Kathy, thanks for your work here. You have a writing style that leads the reader to want to see a film, even an arcane film, before bedtime tonight or a "maybe you will die" unsatisfied feeling will take over, or i'll be left off and the world will pass me by. I did want to see what a novice filmmaker did with children actors without training. I'll watch this film over anything Bollywood produces. I've really only seen Bollywood movies and soaps in Indian restaurants and I always thought they showed these there to hurry the customers along with their dinners.
Stories and films set in India, especially stories involving trains, spike my imagination. "Passage to India," "The Jewel in the Crown," "The Man Who Would Be King," and even "The Darjeeling Limited," spring to mind. There's some mystery and allure to the country that other places don't elicit. (I think I may have recreated my comment, more or less).
Thank you Fran! Oddly enough, I was just thinking of "The Man Who Would Be King" today--it one of those films perfect for a weekend afternoon.
We've had a multicultural channel here in Southern Ontario since I can remember, and now of course there are channels devoted to every ethnicity you can imagine. My only experience of Bollywood is a delightful "60 Minutes" report about it that must be 30 years old now, and of course flipping through all those channels and hurrying past the urgent "NeeneeNEEEEE! NeeNEEneeneeNEEEEE" of a woman singing in Urdu or whathaveyou.
A lot of hipster types affect an unflattering, patronizing fondness for Bollywood simply because it is "exotic" and "campy." They would of course gasp at the notion that this affectation is, you know, "racist"...
I do hope you will check this movie out sometime when you can devote a few uninterrupted hours. It really is one of a kind, although if you have ever seen a Japanese film of the same era you may be reminded of the tone and pacing. It is profound yet simple (without being austere & sterile), and deeply moving without being sentimental or corny. I don't think I would call it "entertaining" any more than I would call a great painting "entertaining."
Oh boy... have some fun try this one: Rab ne bana di jodi. (Catastrophic wedding disaster leads to emergency marriage - how the in-love boring guy can revive the devastated spirit and win the heart of the grieving bride.)
The peeps liked also: Munna bhai MMBS. (gangster running a fake medical clinic to impress his medical doctor father gets caught out when Dad and Mum unexpectedly arrive to pick a wife for him and decides to do the right thing by going to medical school and becoming a real doctor... but of course old habits die hard, approaches how to get admitted and through classes gangster-style. Quite adroitly exposes the Indian medical system, but at least we're all laughing, not crying about it.)
The small Bollywood collection we had reminded us of the big 1940s movies - beautiful stars, lavish spectacles and a story that ends happy... the kind of escapism the wartime audiences wanted. The Bollywood movies we loaned out have never come back - found out the borrowers were having marathon watchings with their friends... obviously, Hollywood hasn't been delivering the fun, G-PG movies they've been wanting.
We watched a stage production of "Things Fall Apart" by Nigerian author Chinua Achebe performed by Kenyan students in western Kenya. The Kenyan audience laughed through it. Maybe literary, university and theatre critics would have been appalled, but family and friends had a great time and went home feeling that they had a good night out. Did the parents need to have their evening ruined by a stern lecture by outsiders on the proper way to think about what they had also lived through, too? That the students - born after independence - were too busy enthusiastically chewing up the sparse scenery everyone chosing instead to relax, no worries and have some fun? As Kenyan tour guides now say, "Hakuna matata!" They know damn well it's "Hakuna shida" but, hey, Bwana, life's too short to be petty and spoil an earnest, well-meaning tourist's delight innocently trying out their newly-learned Swahili words from Disney.
Kathy,
Please "come back to earth"
India is part of Earth...
Come on, somebody do it. I have nothing but respect for Ms. Shaidle. I know her to be a serious and intelligent person. That's why, when she posts a review of a movie about Apu, I listen to my better self and don't make the obvious jokes. Oh, you know the ones, a certain cartoon family, a certain convenience store... don't make me say it. Just somebody else make the jokes because I can't hold it much longer.
I know Steven, we are products of our own culture, and it is inevitable that we make these associations.
I did it myself. And in fact every time I saw the statue of Ganesha in the family's home, I thought, "Please do not feed peanuts to me god." :-)
should be "my" sorry! :-(
There's someone who identifies as a comedian called Hari Kondabolu, who released a documentary called The Problem with Apu in 2017. It's either full-immersion performance art or we are in heap big trouble. "Apu was a tool for kids to go after you," he told The Guardian. The accompanying photo shows a shell-shocked Kondabolu after years of being triggered like a machine-gun hearing Apu repeatedly say "Thank you, come again". If there were an Emmy for Most Woke Viewer, he could get - and give. According to The Guardian, he earned a master's degree in human rights from the London School of Economics. The news media has taken it seriously. "The Simpsons" received blowback after addressing it in an episode by saying, "Don't have a cow", which was presumably insensitive to Hindus. Hank Azaria, the voice of Apu, eventually went on "The Late Show with Stephen Colbert" and showed re-education-camp levels of getting his mind right for his past minstrelsy. He had grown as much as a presidential candidate for 2020, with Colbert in the sober role of racial healer. That's comedy.
Good grief.
Yeah I've heard of that doc. Sad that anyone would disparage the hardest working character on the Simpsons as a negative stereotype.
Oh, I don't know if I'd blame my culture, Kathy. It's hard to plumb the depths of my shallowness. Still, if you're into slice of life movies about other cultures, there's one available about the culture I grew up in. It's called "Dancing Outlaw" I don"t know if you can find it online, but here's a scene from it:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNPvKsUltrA
Opioids? We don't need no stinking opioids!
Next up: someone coming along to shred Hari Kondabolu for appropriating a cartoon's grievance.
Yes, I'm aware of the wokening of "The Simpsons". Truly sad.
Oh, speaking of presidential candidates, I believe that Joe Biden, in a highly surprising and totally not like him moment, had something insensitive to say about Indians and convenience stores in his home state, didn't he?
What does it say when Joe Biden injects a little sanity into the campaign?
It says "get your sleezy crawly hands off my child?"
I tried Ray once years ago, but fell victim to Kathy's first (and Truffaut's abiding) impression. This evocative writing--words--compel me to go back and finish the job. I'll thank you now, Kathy, before I forget.
PS: I was traveling in India over 25 years ago, and met a couple of young Indian men who asked me if I liked Indian cinema. "You mean [unpronounceable name]?" I ventured. They laughed. I'm not sure they even knew whom I meant. "No, Bollywood!" They then described it to me. Sounded horrible.
Thanks Josh!
I learned later, while researching this column, that Ray shot the film in chronological order, over the course of two and a half years. Bearing in mind that no one in the crew knew what they were doing, that explains why the beginning is a little "huh??!" -- they were feeling their way around.
That is one of the things I'd ask everyone to bear in mind while watching:
While every movie should be able to stand on its own merits -- and certainly this one does, as a story, and as cinema -- keep reminding yourself it was made by amateurs, and this makes the achievement all the more extraordinary.
How and where did Ray find these "actors," especially the children? There weren't even "auditions" as we understand them -- he just picked them. When we're watching a Hollywood production (and we're lucky) we'll sometimes wonder, "Where did they find THAT kid?!" Well, they probably auditioned thousands of children. Whereas Ray somehow found "Apu" and "Durga," who are so real yet so "professional" (?) that it seems like a miracle.
And then to realize you are watching a movie that was resurrected from literally melted negatives...
Make sure you watch the Criterion restored version ONLY. You can watch for it on TCM (although it is not in regular rotation, more like a special presentation once a year) or via iTunes or Amazon Prime, spring for a Criterion Channel membership, or purchase their DVD (which has all the priceless "extras" they are famous for, in this case interviews with some of those who worked on the film and more.)
Some years ago I watched the final movie in the Apu trilogy, but I did not realize until just reading your take on Pather Panchali that it was part of a trilogy. I checked into it after reading the character's name (Apu) in this review. I recall liking that movie very much, and coincidentally around the same time the Academy of Motion Pictures awarded Roy with an honorary Oscar. He was quite ill then and gave a most dignified acceptance speech via video from India. FYI -- the second two films in the trio are Aparajito and The World of Apu (just looked it up). Will have to binge watch all three in the near future. Informative and interesting review. Well done, Kathy.
Thanks Tom. And that honorary Oscar was what, ironically, set the restoration in motion.
As they do, the Academy Awards producers set about assembling a montage of Ray's work to show during the tribute, and were shocked by what they were able to dig up. The quality of the footage was terrible. So they sent the negatives off to London for "safe keeping" until they could be restored -- and the storage place burned down!
It took 20 years for technology to advance to the point where the negatives, which one man had intuited should be kept rather than tossed out as unsalvageable, made it possible to bring the film back to life.
NOTE: If you get an error message when you click on the second embedded video, above, click on the underlined WATCH ON YOUTUBE option, and it should play for you.