LATE RAY: ECLIPSE SERIES 40 (S. Ray, 1984, 1989, and 1991)
Eclipse Series Box Set, DVD, Release Date January 7, 2014
Review by Christopher S. Long
(Re-posted in honor of Satyajit Ray, born this day in 1921)
Writer-director (and composer and
camera operator and just about everything else) Satyajit Ray's
characters must be the most subtly shaded and sensitively observed in
all of cinema. He could breathe life into even the most minor players
in just a few shots; over the length of a feature film his
protagonists emerge as rich and nuanced as characters carefully
sculpted over many years of episodic television. Cliches and
stereotypes had no place in the world of a humanist who cared far too
much to take shortcuts or settle for easy answers.
Ray only honed his strength over the
years, a fact evidenced by the complex personalities inhabiting the
three films in this “Late Ray” set from Criterion. After his
debut film “Pather Panchali” (1955) made him an international
star and the de facto representative of all Indian cinema to much of
the rest of the world, Ray vaulted over the high bar he had already
set with a steady string of masterpieces from the rest of the Apu
trilogy to “The Music Room” (1958), “The Big City” (1963),
“The Chess Players” (1977) and still more. By the end of the '70s
he was widely hailed as a national treasure, yet somehow avoided
letting either the fame or the responsibility interfere with his
work.
After a brief break at the beginning of
the '80s, he was finally ready to adapt the Rabindranath Tagore novel
he had originally planned as his first film. Ray had secured the
rights to “The Home and the World” back in 1948, and patience
proved to be a virtue when he finally began shooting in 1982. Set in
1907, the film (released in 1984) takes place shortly after the
British Lord Curzon partitioned Bengal, heightening tensions between
Hindus and Muslims and leading to the rise of the nationalist
Swadeshi movement, a call to boycott foreign products in favor of
homegrown.
As is typical in Ray's work, the film
addresses sweeping historical changes by focusing on a few characters
caught in the middle. Soft-hearted liberal aristocrat Nikhil (Victor
Banerjee) encourages his bright but cloistered wife Bimala
(Swatilekha Chatterjee) to meet his old school friend Sandip
(longtime Ray collaborator Soumitra Chatterjee) who has arrived for a
visit. It's a business trip, as Sandip styles himself the political
firebrand who can fan the Swadeshi flames on Nikhil's land.
In scene after scene, Ray allows the
three players to careen off each other, sharing their world
philosophies, sometimes finding common ground and other times
declaring respectful opposition. The curious Bimala finds herself
torn not just between two men but two visions: Sandip possesses the
magnetism of a man devoted to a cause he has necessarily simplified
to black-and-white, Nikhil is inhibited by the hesitancy of a man who
sees nuance and inherently distrusts the motives of a movement
sparked by cries of “Hail, Motherland!”
Yet in that grand Ray fashion, Bimala
does not exist merely to choose between two men, but also to chart a
course for herself; one of the most delicate balancing acts in the
story is her effort to become her own person despite the annoyingly
enlightened insistence of her husband that she do so. Sandip's
fanaticism flashes an early warning sign, and there's little doubt
his partisan brand of Swadeshi will topple into violence, but Ray
never lets him become a mere villain. Everyone shares their reasoning
both with each other and with the audience, making for a truly
dynamic, organic story.
Ray suffered a heart attack during
filming on “The Home and the World” and could not return to
directing for several years. Still severely limited, he established a
less physically taxing regimen which might explain the restricted,
functional look of “An Enemy of the People” (1989), shot almost
exclusively in studio. Working from the 1882 Henrik Ibsen play of the
same name, Ray transplants the action from 19th century
Norway to the 1980s in a small town in Bengal. A doctor (Soumitra
Chaterjee again) discovers that the holy water at the local Hindu
temple is polluted and is shocked by the political resistance he
meets in his effort to reveal the health threat to the townsfolk;
that temple's a goldmine for lots of people. The outlook is more
clearcut here than in the previous film, as the doctor winds up
having to stand almost alone against the forces of corruption, but
Ray unpeels the various layers of that corruption from the bigger
fish with the most to gain to the smaller players who sometimes wind
up cozying up or caving in to power. “Enemy” is clearly the least
accomplished of the three films in the set, but still absorbing and
surprisingly lean at 99 minutes.
Which brings us to “The Stranger”
(1991) and perhaps Ray's most memorable character since Apu. The
routinized life of a bourgeois Indian couple is disrupted by the
receipt of a letter. The gobsmacked Anila (Mamata Shankar) reads
shocking news aloud to her husband Sudhindra (Dipankar Dey): her
uncle who disappeared when she was just a child three decades ago
will be arriving by train in a few days and hopes to spend the week
with them. The husband is instantly skeptical, but Anila remains
guardedly hopeful. Their various suspicions will not be quickly
resolved.
The uncle (renowned theater and film
star Utpal Dutt) had become a family legend in his absence, and it
takes Anila time to understand him as a flesh-and-blood figure. An
absurdly erudite world-traveler, he only becomes more enigmatic with
each revelation about his time abroad; he has almost literally done
everything and been everywhere (except Australia, his next stated
destination). The couple and their friends, many still on the lookout
for a scam, grill the uncle over a series of deeply engaged
intellectual discussions, but it's clear that they've never met
anybody quite like him. In his own words, he refused to be a “frog
in a well,” unwilling to be trapped by the mere circumstance of his
birth. One day he simply gave in to his wanderlust and never looked
back.
Dutt is absolutely riveting as the man
who has an opinion on everything, and Ray observes him with a healthy
balance of affection and skepticism. His obvious brilliance sometimes
shines too brightly, and his need to extoll the glories of his
globetrotting ways leads him to condescend unfairly to perceived
Bengali provincialism. The film gleefully addresses the big questions
(“Do you believe in religion?”, “What about science?”) while
always scanning for the smallest details, and even drops the English
word “floccinaucinihilipilification” just when you least expect
it. Which is any time.
“The Stranger” turned out to be
Ray's final film. A year after its release he received an honorary
Oscar which, alas, is far too often the sign that the end is near.
Ray died shortly thereafter on April 23, 1992 at the age of 70 and
right at the peak of his craft. Few directors maintained such a level
of excellence from start to finish. It was always unfair to think of
Ray as the sole representative of a vast and diverse national cinema,
but that doesn't mean he was ever overrated. Many of us are just
beginning to understand how truly great he was. Releases like this
Eclipse set help with the discovery process.
Video:
Unfortunately even the Ray films that
have been offered on North American region DVDs have generally been
of poor quality. Criterion helped remedy that with recent Blu-ray
releases of “The Music Room,” “The Big City,” and
“Charulata.” None of the three SD releases in this Eclipse set
have been restored or can match the quality of the full Criterion
releases, but what we get is better than most other Ray titles.
“The Home and the World” looks a
bit like a second generation copy with some distortion visible at
times and somewhat mediocre image resolutions. Colors are fairly
rich, however, and the overall transfer is solid.
The other two transfers are stronger,
though neither film is one of Ray's most visually arresting works.
The color palette looks a bit oversaturated on “The Stranger” but
no major complaints.
All three films are presented in their
original 1.33:1 aspect ratios.
Audio:
The Dolby Digital Mono tracks are about
average overall. Perhaps the music (composed by Ray) would be better
treated by a lossless mix, but the audio here is clean and
consistent. One minor complaint: optional English subtitles are
provided for the Bengali dialogue, but not for the relatively
frequent English dialogue. There's no reason not to have subs for
everything.
Extras:
Each of the three films is stored on a
single disc and housed in its own slim keepcase, all three cases
tucking into the thin cardboard sleeve for the set. As is usual for
Criterion's no-frills Eclipse collection, no extras are provided on
the discs. However, we get liner notes up to the usual excellent
standards of writer Michael Koresky.
Final Thoughts:
I'm not sure how much longer
Criterion's SD-only Eclipse collection will continue to be viable,
but I hope it's for quite a while because it's a great way for
viewers to get films that aren't slated for restorations or high-def
upgrades. I read one review describing these films as “minor” Ray
releases, but that's just not right. “The Home and the World” and
“The Stranger” are both quite major and it's great to have them
finally available on home video in North America even without bells
and whistles.
No comments:
Post a Comment