El invicto

Although Satajit Ray was to old, sick and spent to fully appreciate his special Oscar, it was to the Academy's credit that it finally did recognize this supreme artist.

It's often been said that "Aparajito" is the lesser of the three film that comprise "The Apu Trilogy." I personally don't buy that. Here is a finely etched portrait of a young man as he leaves his primitive Indian village and widowed mother to better himself through education at a Calcutta University.

The relationship between mother and son are beautifully presented, with their differing values representative of passing generations. The circumstances may be specific, while the story is universal.

It is about the age-old tension between human choices and challenging environments, about the balancing of values in achieving one's heart's desires.

The emotional fluctuations felt by both mother and son are sharply depicted, including the loss of one's parents as a unique, one-time experience. One must pick up the pieces and move on, as Apu does.

Viewing "Pather Panchali," "Aparajito" and "The World of Apu" in one continuous sequence is the proper way to get the full impact of this incredible piece of work.

Aparajito (The Unvanquished), second film in Apu's trilogy by Ray, is truly a masterpiece in the sense that it can still captivate any sensitive audience even after 56 years of its making and it can easily figure in any selected list of forever-classic films. The film unfolds a story of Harihar (Kanu Bannerjee), Sarbojoya (Karuna Bannerjee) and their child Apu (Pinaki Sengupta) living in the city of Banaras after leaving Nishchintapur (their ancestral village in Bengal) mainly due to the tragic death of their daughter Durga as shown in Pather Panchali, the first film of the Apu's trilogy. For earning, Harihar, who is a Brahmin reads the holy Hindu scriptures on the banks of holy Ganges to some Bengali widows who prefer to live in the holy city of Banaras after getting widowed. Sarbojoya is busy in her housework while Apu is spending most of his time by playing with his friends. But these moments of prosperity were cut short by the untimely death of Harihar after a brief illness. Sarbojoya was compelled to take the job of a cook in a wealthy Bengali family settled in Banaras. But to save her child from the inevitable slavery Sarbojoya left Banaras for Bengal to live in her uncle's house at Manasapota village. Apu started his study in the village school, fared very well and got a scholarship for the higher study in Calcutta. After much hesitation Sarbojoya gave his son (now played by Smaran Ghosal) the permission to pursue the higher study in Calcutta. Apu began his struggle in the city of Calcutta to pursue his study as well as earning money for the same and became busy in it. In the mean time Sarbojoya became seriously ill and died just before Apu's final examination. Apu comes back to the village only to retrieve his mother's belongings and then returned to the city again to appear for the examination with a promise to his grand-uncle to perform his mother's post-death rites (Shradhwa) in Calcutta. Aparajito or The Unvanquished is primarily a story of struggle between the tradition and progress first by Sarbojoya in Banaras and then by Apu. The film transcends its linear narrative style with Ray's majestic touches and excellent cinematography by Subrata Mitra. The way the film captured some fascinating glimpses of Banaras mainly through the eyes of Apu who plays and roams around the narrow and shabby lanes of Banaras, steep stairs on the banks of the river Ganges, old and squalid houses and sometimes in temples with the monkeys is truly beyond description. The depiction Harihar's death here with the groaning of Sarbojoya fit into the scene of suddenly dispersed pigeons on the banks of Ganges can fit among the best scenes of the Indian cinema. Some other unparalleled metaphors of the film include Apu's entry to the city of Calcutta with a geographic globe in his hand (meaning entry into the wider world), the English class in which the topic synecdoche is being taught and Apu falls asleep or in the last shot where Apu is heading for the city with his mother's last belongings and the sky is heavily overcast with the sounds of thunders indicating the Apu's severing of ties with the traditional occupation and journey to an uncertain and tumultuous world. The music by Ravi Shankar sublimed the whole film. Use of the Multani tune in flute of Pather Panchali to unravel the visualisation of the green landscape of Bengal in the shot when Sarbojoya and Apu are returning to Bengal is simply breathtaking.

Each of the three films of the Apu Trilogy exhibit the extraordinary quality of a documentary film on the conditions of life in India at the time they are set. I think this is what I like best in them through numerous viewings. The films are shot in locations that appear untouched by any art department - remote countryside in Bengal, the great cities - Benares and Calcutta. The characters eke out an adequate life in their sufficient poverty - a life sustained by their faith and simple devotion to one another. At the same time there are moments that are pure cinema. There is an exquisite swish pan cut from Kurana (the mother) leaning against a tree, full of emptiness as Apu has just left for Calcutta, to the swift dynamo of the train crossing a bridge with the trestles a blur. At the moment Kanu (the father) gives up his soul a flock of birds alights over the Ganges. Later as Kurana is gradually sinking into the depths of loneliness - a sickness unto death - she has a vision of fireflies swirling around in the falling darkness.

These films traverse the drama of life and death touching gently on all of the salient points along the path. They put us face to face with the challenge of living in a world, which constantly gives us disappointment. At the same time there is a celebration of that ineffable quality which gives life meaning.

Each of the three films of the Apu Trilogy exhibit the extraordinary quality of a documentary film on the conditions of life in India at the time they are set. I think this is what I like best in them through numerous viewings. The films are shot in locations that appear untouched by any art department - remote countryside in Bengal, the great cities - Benares and Calcutta. The characters eke out an adequate life in their sufficient poverty - a life sustained by their faith and simple devotion to one another. At the same time there are moments that are pure cinema. There is an exquisite swish pan cut from Kurana (the mother) leaning against a tree, full of emptiness as Apu has just left for Calcutta, to the swift dynamo of the train crossing a bridge with the trestles a blur. At the moment Kanu (the father) gives up his soul a flock of birds alights over the Ganges. Later as Kurana is gradually sinking into the depths of loneliness - a sickness unto death - she has a vision of fireflies swirling around in the falling darkness.

These films traverse the drama of life and death touching gently on all of the salient points along the path. They put us face to face with the challenge of living in a world, which constantly give us disappointment. At the same time there is a celebration of that ineffable quality which gives life meaning.

I am always a bit dismayed by the attention that Pather Panchali and Charulata command in discussions on Ray because while they are fine films, they do not account for Ray's cinema as a whole. In fact, I would resist from picking one or even three films that 'speak for Ray'- but I would be lying if I said I didn't have a favourite. Aparajito is a wonderful work of art, an extremely moving melodrama and a remarkably accurate portrayal of adolescence. Of course, it would be shameful to give all the credit to Ray. Bibhuti Bhusan Bandhyopadhaya's novels (Aparajito is adapted from the last part of Pather Panchali and the first half of Aparajito) are meticulously descriptive and Ray's success with the film owes much to the simplicity and honesty of his source. But there is something in Aparajito that belongs exclusively to the cinema - something that has to do with the the mixture of distance and intimacy in the movies, of identification and unfamiliarity. You want to feel like Aparajito is a film about you, but you secretly admit that it isn't, it cannot be - because you experience it outside yourself, in Ravi Shankar's beautiful music, in the photography that oscillates between banality and the deeply metaphoric, in the wonderful performances (especially by Karuna Bannerjee), and finally in Ray's masterful vision in putting it all together. I couldn't say much else - you must experience it for yourself!