Post by klep on Jan 25, 2021 9:17:47 GMT -6
MOVIE OF THE WEEK for 1/25: Pather Panchali
1950s WEEK!
Note: This week's essay is graciously provided by a guest contributor.
Poverty is insidious; anyone who's ever had financial trouble knows how concern for being able to pay one's bills can affect all parts of your life. The pervasiveness of poverty is excellently illustrated in Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali, as the financial concerns of the central family are never far from the forefront, even if it's just a matter of how they get treated by the richer families in the village. Watching Durga's friend get pulled aside by mother and scolded for offering sweets from the traveling vendor to Durga drives this home as much as the harsher moments in the movie do.
Of course, this movie is not poverty porn in any way; Ray isn't interested in trying to say this family needs to work harder to escape their circumstances, or anything along those lines. If anything, the movie makes it explicitly clear that the reason the family is in these dire straits now is because they lost their own garden to a dubious claim of debt that needed to be repaid. Hearing Sarbojaya lament about how people take sackfuls of fruit from what used to be their garden, while sternly rebuking Durga for taking a single fruit, one can't help but think of the British occupation of India, a wound that was still not a full decade old when this movie came out in 1955. The manifestation of wealth inequality in both small and large scales is impossible to miss.
But even among this, the children, Durga and Apu, eke out moments of happiness; joining a cookout picnic with their friends, running to watch a train go by, watching a play, seeing the sights of the country thanks to a local vendor's tool, even dancing in the rain, the illustration of these moments shows how the children manage to make do with what they have, even as their mother falls into further despair as the money dries up. The limitations of their poverty soon become apparent again, but in those moments, they are simply children who have found joy in something.
Of course, even with the prevalence of how poverty shapes this family's life, it's not the only aspect we see in this movie. The script does an excellent job of rounding out the characters and the state of their relationships with each other, especially the relationship between Sarbojaya and Harihar, the mother and father of the family, respectively. Harihar's head-in-the-clouds approach to life is a stark contrast to Sarbojaya's practical approach, and as the movie goes on, you get a feel for her frustrations towards his lackadaisical nature. The empty platitude of “Whatever God ordains is for the best” hits particularly hard as it comes at the end of a letter where Harihar has once again swerved away from inquiring about a lucrative position he was a lock for, the responsibility to cobble together enough money to feed the kids once again falling on Sarbojaya. Far from the only instance where this happens, every time Harihar brushes off a question about unpaid wages, refuses to move to a more financially prosperous area for nebulous reasons, or declares that he's a scholar who's not concerned about monetary issues, the weight of his indifference towards his family's well-being sits heavier on Sarbojaya. Her monologue about how she has no friends around that she can talk to, and how her own dreams and ambitions are now all but gone is achingly painful, and the fact that her circumstances only get worse from there adds a level of poignancy to the words in hindsight.
Then there's Durga and Apu themselves, the two children whose love for each other is never in doubt even when they're fighting. The move never draws attention to the fact that the two siblings always look out for each other as much as possible, but doesn't hide those moments either. Whether it's Durga covertly feeding Apu or Apu trying to chase Durga away so she can avoid getting into trouble, there's no question of the bond the two have. It's not the only thing that makes Durga's death hit hard, but it's a major factor, and when Apu looks upon Durga's dead body and asks if she's sleeping, the imminent pain is palpable, to the point that nobody can blame the adults for trying to delay it a bit longer by sending him on an errand. And Apu throwing Tunu's necklace into the lake in the end is an excellent way to display how even death couldn't break that bond.
Speaking of death, both Indir and Durga's deaths are very well done, and made stark by the fact that there's really nobody to blame for either one, not that it minimizes the tragedy. Watching Indir slowly die while sitting under a tree, only for Durga to find her dead body, is really affecting, especially as it comes after the children have experienced the joy of watching a train go by. Similarly, the sense of doom that's present as Sarbojaya tries to keep the house intact around a dreadfully ill Durga practically feels like a horror movie, like death itself is rattling at the doors and windows, determined to get in and claim Durga.
There is no shortage of excellent moments and scenes in this movie to talk about, and Ray does an excellent job of capturing them and bringing it all together to catch a specific snapshot of a family's triumphs and struggles, using them to capture the sense of that time and place with a kind of specificity that makes the story universal. And the small touches he adds, from Durga looking after a cat through the years even before Apu's arrival, to Indir singing for death to come for her, to the village elders appearing out of thin air to rebuke the family once Harihar has made the decision to leave, only adds to that. Of course, to not mention the excellent score would be doing a disservice to Ravi Shankar, as his work further elevates the movie and adds a crucial element that it's impossible to imagine the movie without. Pather Panchali's classic status is well-earned, and well-deserved.
OUR NEXT MOVIE OF THE WEEK for 2/1: Three Colors: Blue
NEW BEGINNINGS WEEK!
For New Beginnings Week we're finally getting to Krzysztof Kieslowski's legendary Three Colors trilogy with Blue, a film starring Juliette Binoche as a woman trying to move on after the death of her husband and child. Join us next week for our discussion of Three Colors: Blue, available on the Criterion Channel and HBO Max and for rent on Amazon and iTunes.
NEXT PICTURE SHOW PODCAST for 1/25: Another Round
This week the podcast tackles the latest film from Thomas Vinterberg, in which a group of teachers including Mads Mikkelsen experiment with maintaining a constant low level of intoxication. Join us Wednesday for our discussion of Another Round, available for rent in the usual places.
1950s WEEK!
Note: This week's essay is graciously provided by a guest contributor.
Poverty is insidious; anyone who's ever had financial trouble knows how concern for being able to pay one's bills can affect all parts of your life. The pervasiveness of poverty is excellently illustrated in Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali, as the financial concerns of the central family are never far from the forefront, even if it's just a matter of how they get treated by the richer families in the village. Watching Durga's friend get pulled aside by mother and scolded for offering sweets from the traveling vendor to Durga drives this home as much as the harsher moments in the movie do.
Of course, this movie is not poverty porn in any way; Ray isn't interested in trying to say this family needs to work harder to escape their circumstances, or anything along those lines. If anything, the movie makes it explicitly clear that the reason the family is in these dire straits now is because they lost their own garden to a dubious claim of debt that needed to be repaid. Hearing Sarbojaya lament about how people take sackfuls of fruit from what used to be their garden, while sternly rebuking Durga for taking a single fruit, one can't help but think of the British occupation of India, a wound that was still not a full decade old when this movie came out in 1955. The manifestation of wealth inequality in both small and large scales is impossible to miss.
But even among this, the children, Durga and Apu, eke out moments of happiness; joining a cookout picnic with their friends, running to watch a train go by, watching a play, seeing the sights of the country thanks to a local vendor's tool, even dancing in the rain, the illustration of these moments shows how the children manage to make do with what they have, even as their mother falls into further despair as the money dries up. The limitations of their poverty soon become apparent again, but in those moments, they are simply children who have found joy in something.
Of course, even with the prevalence of how poverty shapes this family's life, it's not the only aspect we see in this movie. The script does an excellent job of rounding out the characters and the state of their relationships with each other, especially the relationship between Sarbojaya and Harihar, the mother and father of the family, respectively. Harihar's head-in-the-clouds approach to life is a stark contrast to Sarbojaya's practical approach, and as the movie goes on, you get a feel for her frustrations towards his lackadaisical nature. The empty platitude of “Whatever God ordains is for the best” hits particularly hard as it comes at the end of a letter where Harihar has once again swerved away from inquiring about a lucrative position he was a lock for, the responsibility to cobble together enough money to feed the kids once again falling on Sarbojaya. Far from the only instance where this happens, every time Harihar brushes off a question about unpaid wages, refuses to move to a more financially prosperous area for nebulous reasons, or declares that he's a scholar who's not concerned about monetary issues, the weight of his indifference towards his family's well-being sits heavier on Sarbojaya. Her monologue about how she has no friends around that she can talk to, and how her own dreams and ambitions are now all but gone is achingly painful, and the fact that her circumstances only get worse from there adds a level of poignancy to the words in hindsight.
Then there's Durga and Apu themselves, the two children whose love for each other is never in doubt even when they're fighting. The move never draws attention to the fact that the two siblings always look out for each other as much as possible, but doesn't hide those moments either. Whether it's Durga covertly feeding Apu or Apu trying to chase Durga away so she can avoid getting into trouble, there's no question of the bond the two have. It's not the only thing that makes Durga's death hit hard, but it's a major factor, and when Apu looks upon Durga's dead body and asks if she's sleeping, the imminent pain is palpable, to the point that nobody can blame the adults for trying to delay it a bit longer by sending him on an errand. And Apu throwing Tunu's necklace into the lake in the end is an excellent way to display how even death couldn't break that bond.
Speaking of death, both Indir and Durga's deaths are very well done, and made stark by the fact that there's really nobody to blame for either one, not that it minimizes the tragedy. Watching Indir slowly die while sitting under a tree, only for Durga to find her dead body, is really affecting, especially as it comes after the children have experienced the joy of watching a train go by. Similarly, the sense of doom that's present as Sarbojaya tries to keep the house intact around a dreadfully ill Durga practically feels like a horror movie, like death itself is rattling at the doors and windows, determined to get in and claim Durga.
There is no shortage of excellent moments and scenes in this movie to talk about, and Ray does an excellent job of capturing them and bringing it all together to catch a specific snapshot of a family's triumphs and struggles, using them to capture the sense of that time and place with a kind of specificity that makes the story universal. And the small touches he adds, from Durga looking after a cat through the years even before Apu's arrival, to Indir singing for death to come for her, to the village elders appearing out of thin air to rebuke the family once Harihar has made the decision to leave, only adds to that. Of course, to not mention the excellent score would be doing a disservice to Ravi Shankar, as his work further elevates the movie and adds a crucial element that it's impossible to imagine the movie without. Pather Panchali's classic status is well-earned, and well-deserved.
OUR NEXT MOVIE OF THE WEEK for 2/1: Three Colors: Blue
NEW BEGINNINGS WEEK!
For New Beginnings Week we're finally getting to Krzysztof Kieslowski's legendary Three Colors trilogy with Blue, a film starring Juliette Binoche as a woman trying to move on after the death of her husband and child. Join us next week for our discussion of Three Colors: Blue, available on the Criterion Channel and HBO Max and for rent on Amazon and iTunes.
NEXT PICTURE SHOW PODCAST for 1/25: Another Round
This week the podcast tackles the latest film from Thomas Vinterberg, in which a group of teachers including Mads Mikkelsen experiment with maintaining a constant low level of intoxication. Join us Wednesday for our discussion of Another Round, available for rent in the usual places.