Not many Indian films have had the
impact on me that Ritwik Ghatak’s Golden
River (1965) had. Watching the film
earlier today was dreamlike. Indian
films often have that effect on me, but never in this particular combination of
emotion and degree. Indian cinema has a taste
that combines so many flavors, but is unique unto itself. Often it resembles one of two genres, both of
which were heavily influential on the early Indian film movement. Some enjoyable and even remarkable films from
the subcontinent take much of their look and feel from the Hollywood musical of
the 1950s, and it is well-known that these pictures are adored by domestic fans
and have a growing international following.
While I like some of these pictures, I prefer, however, the Indian films
that barrow a great deal from Italian neorealist works. Golden
River is a film of this variety, and I must say that it measures up to, and
even surpasses, the Italian masters in many regards.
Like so many of those Italian films,
the central element of this story is a family desperate to stay intact in whatever
way they can. However, the added
cultural distinctions caused by India’s Caste system lay the foundation here
for a deeper -rooted tragedy than that of the neorealist films that dealt with postwar
poverty. Indeed, characters in this film
often confront the fact that they are regarded as less than human by their surrounding
society. This element is brought to the
forefront early in the picture, as it begins with the news of Gandhi’s death
reaching a refugee camp outside Calcutta.
With human rights leaders now the target of assassins, the Bengali expatriates
hold out little hope for triumph over their greedy landlords. Though conditions have the prospect of
improving, and a school has been established, Ishwar (Abhi Bhattacharya) decides
to leave with his younger sister, Shita, and take a job in a provincial
factory.
Dismissed by his older sister and
brother-in-law as a deserter of the refugee cause, Ishwar sets out with Shita
and the orphan boy Ibhiram. The small band
makes it to the province only to discover that conditions there are not much
better. Still, Ishwar is determined to
make the most of the job he is offered and hope that there will be room for
advancement. He seeks a better life for
his adopted brother as well, sending Ibhiram away to be educated despite his
low-caste status.
Years later, when Ibhiram has
completed his schooling, he returns to the province. While there he reveals his love for Shita,
and the two decide to be married. Ishwar
will have nothing of it however, and he quickly decides to send Ibhiram to
engineering school in Germany. Shortly
thereafter, a chance encounter with the adopted boy’s mother reveals to the factory
community that Ibhiram is an imposter.
Rather than suffer humiliation and despair, the young man and his
adopted sister elope on the eve of her wedding to a man who could secure the
family’s status.
As years pass, the couple, now with
a child, do all they can to live independently of their older brother, but
financial troubles cause them to discuss contacting him. In despair, Shita swears that she would
rather commit suicide than rely on Ishwar. Though conditions eventually improve, trouble
never seems to be far away from any of the family members, and the story, from
its beginning, seems destined to end in tragedy.
Ghatak’s gift as a director here is
that he understands his story needs no embellished flourishes. What he’s written stands on its own merit,
and he needs only for his actors to deliver on the words he’s committed to the
page. He draws fine work from all of his
leads, even the younger children in earlier scenes, and uses close ups to great
effect. The iconic American director
John Ford said that there wasn’t any secret to great directing, that all you
had to do was “photograph the people’s eyes.”
Ghatak takes this philosophy to heart, and indeed at times his characters’
words seem to spring forth not from their mouths but from their pupils.
The dream feeling created by other Indian
films comes from the colors and the movement of the performers and the
camera. In this movie, the dreamlike
effect comes from the eyes. In each of
his characters, they are expressive and vivid.
They convey rage, disappointment, longing, love, and most of all
sorrow. This is a sad film, but sad in a
way too beautiful to describe. It has
music, but is not a musical, and passion, but is not a love story. Many viewers looking to try out Indian cinema
start with Satyajit Ray’s Apu Trilogy.
That’s where I began, but I wish I’d started here. What a pity that this film is largely overlooked,
and that I had to go to youtube to find it.
Surely anyone who sees it there, with its poor transfer and somewhat illegible
subtitles, will agree that it’s due for the remastering treatment.
Language:
Bengali
Runtime:
121 Minutes
Available
@Youtube.com
Grade:
3 Hats Off
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