Pather Panchali
SATYAJIT RAY, 1955
5 STARS OUT OF 5
If you’re into Italian-neorealism, social realism, and the like, this is an absolute slamdunk. I knew I’d like it before I saw it, the only question being, How much? Like, the love couldn’t fill the Grand Canyon, which I hear is very big.
It took a minute to click for me, but in this story of the boy Apu, from birth through early childhood, you are bearing witness to two things: a family on the fringes of survival and a free-spirited angel in his sister Durga, or, if you may, a light that burns brights and burns out way too fast. Pather Panchali eschews some of the miserabilia in a way the more recent Florida Project manages it, by showing you the humanity and human resilience that exists in any community regardless of socioeconomic status. Of course, both due to ethics and, I think to an extent, aesthetics, it’s most pleasing to see people who are really struggling also find pleasure in life. For the vast majority of us fortunate enough to be in better economic circumstances - realistically, everyone who’s likely to see this movie - it is a reminder and an invitation to live. However, cruel truths will rear their heads and can crush your soul with them. By the end, Pather Panchali is for sure a tragedy.
Subratra Mitra’s cinematography is wondrous and probably sets a standard for capturing such a small, traditional settlement, as well as poverty, in the complete manner that he does. I plan on finishing the Apu trilogy, and if they are shot anything like Pather Panchali, I’ll be onboard even if the story doesn’t live up to this first installment. The shots in the orchard are particularly striking, with the camera putting enough bramble between it and the subjects to show the wildness of it, only to then explain that the fruit is forbidden Apu’s family since they sold off the orchard. Thus it is tantalizing, and when Apu’s family members walk through the orchard, it’s a symbol of their want and poverty. When we’re in the family’s home or just sitting outside it, the small estate, so to speak, fills the camera to the point you feel trapped, oppressed. The film has some beautiful wide shots of the common trails the people walk and the countryside, but the family’s place is distinct in how you feel when you are there, especially as it crumbles around you. Always there is the mother, Sarbojaya, she hardly gets to leave, and when she does it’s generally to ask for assistance. The camera sticks with her enough throughout to let you feel her anxiety as she does her duty for her children and husband, who leaves for months at a time, quite dutifully and, ultimately, lovingly. Karuna Bannerjee as Sarbojaya embodies the stress of keeping the family together, the home her ball and chain, and puts in a tremendous shift.
I was listening to the new Armand Hammer LP, a very of-the-BLM-moment album that still transcends the moment and puts it in a broader context, and on it they sample a woman making a strong statement on survival that came to mind watching Pather Panchali. It criticized society’s belittlement of the act of survival, claiming that it is no small thing to survive, but a coordinated effort that some have the luxury of taking for granted. It turned survival into a continuous accomplishment; you don’t get food, shelter, water, clothing, and (I like to include) love just by sitting around. It drew a distinction between surviving and existing, and pretty rightfully claiming that no one desires just to “exist,” but survival goes way beyond. I have always distinguished surviving and really living, but how many of us live without boundaries or barriers, without financial, health, or other concerns holding us back from the great everything? Surviving is nothing to scoff at. In this context, the failure of the Ray family to fully survive is a brutal, brutal thing. That they are getting away with Apu before everything collapses is something. Perhaps they can save their line, for whatever that is worth, and maybe it’s worth a lot. There are still two deaths here that will leave emotional scars on the viewer, as survival is paramount, thereby death is a true blow.
It bears mentioning the job Uma Dasgupta and this group of actors does. Specific to Dasgupta, she only has Pather Panchali to her name, and somehow, as Durga, she is the essence that delights and haunts the film. A lot of times, that is a credit to the director, and I’m sure Ray worked hard with her, but also credit Mitra for framing her in all the right ways, be it in a crumbling arch, in the rain, or walking through the orchard. But also, and perhaps above all, credit her for having a continuous energy and stage presence that clearly enchants and enriches Apu, thereby us.
There were a few hang-ups I had to get beyond, the biggest being the way Durga dies. I felt at first that it was perpetuating the old, outmoded theory that you can catch a cold or other illness from being out in the cold. That might still be true, though I’ve concocted another theory that, considering the state the family was in at her death, she was malnourished, thereby more susceptible to hypothermia as the body struggles to maintain proper homeostasis while exposed to the elements and not having sufficient nourishment and body mass. Not that I think this film, which remember is 65 years old, is outright flouting science, but it is a work in the line of Italian Neorealism, and to me that means everything is realistic. It still might work.
An elemental and lyrical piece of cinema. Like Bicycle Thieves before it, Pather Panchali exposes reality on its own terms and refuses to pull punches or give quarter. It centers on the humanity of its characters and heightens our sense of humanity, if we will only bear witness.
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After changing my approach to the forum slowdown several times, I'm just going to brave it. I'm finishing Satantango, and I think maybe that's given me a new perspective on time. What's 28 seconds, anyway?