“Apur Panchali” is an above average Indian Bangla film that retells the saga of Apu, an iconic character created by author Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay, and immortalised by three films collectively called the “Apu Trilogy” (“Pather Panchali,” “Aparajito,” and my all-time favorite “Apur Sangsar”) - frequently voted among the greatest-films-ever-made. Some of the scenes are done quite well and succeed in capturing a sense of nostalgia. However, it does not feel like a photograph of reality; it feels like a photograph of a photograph of reality- it feels self-conscious. It’s more of a recipe-testing exercise than inspired filmmaking, like an experiment to check if Maxwell’s equations still hold true. This is exactly the kind of release that causes film-buffs go to the theater with slings and arrows: so why would anyone even try such a thing? Obsession.
Over sixty years ago, a young advertising man, both an economics graduate and an art school dropout, became obsessed with a book and decided to film it. He found a bunch of amateurs like himself and started shooting on holidays. Then one day, after four years of cathartic struggle, the work actually got finished. The film would become “Pather Panchali” and the man would become “Satyajit Ray.” Now every time we watch the film, this obsession, poured from a man’s heart into a film, permeates from the screen, enters our eyes via electromagnetic radiation, and in turn possesses our hearts. Ray would move on to other projects, making one masterpiece after another, but we are still there, we cannot get over it- our obsession with that first film is unending.
The scenario: A film student Arko (obsessed with “Pather Panchali”) is given the task of seeking out the seventy-year-old Subir Banerjee, the forever-young first Apu. He is being honored and needs to fly to Europe to accept it. Arko does find Subir, practically a hermit now, and tries his best to convince the old man to accept the honor. Half the film is about the friendship that develops between them. The other half is in black & white flashbacks, a reenactment of the Apu story with young Subir, juxtaposed with actual footage from the original films.
If the film genuinely wanted to honor the forgotten child actors of world cinema, it would have primarily focused on the story of old Subir, and it would have been a different kind of film (after all the best performance comes from old Subir - Ardhendu Bannerjee). Instead it chooses to indulge on the romance of filmmaking and becomes a nostalgic escapade. Yes, there are some bizarre similarities between the fictitious Apu and real life child actor Subir- both had similar jobs, both married their friend’s cousin, both lost their wives at an early age- but to say Ray’s script of the three Apu films dictated Subir’s life such that Subir became Apu is really pushing it. Even the director himself knows that’s not true, otherwise why would he cast two actors so dissimilar in physical types, one for old Subir and one for young Subir.
Filmmakers tend to devour their heroes to give them homage and to become just as good. But it goes much deeper than that. To be an heir to a legacy is to digest the “ideas” of the filmmaker that he so densely packs into his films from whose DNA strands an entire dinosaur can be made. Films are the ambers that carries “ideas.” In that aspect “our films” might be closer to Satyajit Ray’s legacy than “their films.”
