Satyajit Ray's Apu Trilogy is one of the most studied, well-regarded, and most beloved films series in the world. In fact, at this point I
really don't think that I could possibly offer up a fresh view or insight that hasn't already been stated in words ten times more eloquent than my own.
However, I do feel an obligation to talk about the films somewhat.
Pather Panchali
(Song of the Little Road) was Satyajit Ray's first film. While the series is commonly known as The Apu Trilogy, and the little boy Apu is
a central character in Pather Panchali, it is really a story about the life being lived around Apu, and that is its beauty. We are introduced to a
struggling Bengali family consisting of the mischievous older daughter Durga, the impossibly aged auntie Indir, the traveling patriarch priest Harihar, and
the woman who holds it all together, the harried mother-wife Sarbajaya, and halfway through the film, Apu, a miracle baby who grows up before our eyes.
This family, all spreading out in different directions apart from the anchor of Sarbajaya, is a typical one, it is only their surroundings and the
specificity of their routines that distinguishes them from any other. They are poor, and they are desperate, but they are also grateful, kind, loving, and
headstrong. While the trilogy may bear his name, Apu is merely significant in this film for being adjacent to greatness. Whether it is following around his
older sister as she has adventures and tries to grow up as quickly as possible, or getting in her way at every turn, Apu doesn't look like a child who has
greatness in him, but that's what makes him so endearing. Not precocious, not particularly unique, just a boy, doing what boys do.
One aspect of Pather Panchali that is significant in terms of it's relation to the rest of contemporary Bengali film, is that it
celebrates the ordinary. Even in the '50s, Indian mainstream and regional cinema was dominated by escapist musicals, but Ray didn't want to make a film
like that. Pather Panchali is significant not only because it's not a musical, but because it depicts rural life as it was, and in some
places still is.
It would be impossible to gauge the time period of Pather Panchali solely based on the visuals of the first hour or so of the film. It
could have been contemporary or it could have been a period film, the state of the village gives us no indication either way. It isn't until the intrusion
of a railroad track and some power lines cut the screen in half that we're given that bit of context for the film. Villages like this still exist in rural
areas of India, perhaps with better plumbing and some updated cell phones and such, but those places are still out there, and they make appearances in
modern films, both art-house and mainstream, regularly.
What I took from Pather Panchali was more of a gathering of emotions than a thesis. The film deliberately sidesteps traditional narrative
in favor of a collection of significant moments and uses them to draw a picture of this family's life. For every happy moment, there are two sad ones, and
this is a theme that Ray continues through the trilogy. As long as the last one is happy, and in this case it is at least hopeful, that's all that matters.
All of the memories are like rocks on the little road.
The Disc:
I'm only going to write about the quality of the transfer and restoration once, because it is fairly consistent across the board. It is stunning. I'll go
into more detail when I talk about the restoration video extra on Apur Sansar, but it looks incredible. The vast bulk of the film looks
sensational with rich black and white cinematography that has beautiful deep shadows and an almost impossible amount of detail. The only place where it is
obvious that the film was significantly damaged is in some of the transitions, which are virtually impossible to restore. If nothing else, they provide
something of a yardstick to show how much work was done, and how well. The final three of four minutes of the film also look a bit rougher, but it's hardly
a concern after having see the amazing work on the rest. The uncompressed mono soundtrack is also gorgeous. No hiss, clear dialogue, and Ravi Shankar's
score comes through beautifully.
Extras:
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Audio recording of Satyajit Ray reading his essay “A Long Time on the Little Road” - This is just what the title says. This was actually my first
encounter with the mellifluous voice of Satyajit Ray, and let me say, I could listen to the man speak for hours. Here he reads an essay about
making Pather Panchali during an interview. Lots of interesting anecdotes, however, his voice is so soothing that I'd listen to
him read a phone book if I was able
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Interviews with Soumitra Chatterjee, Shampa Srivatava, and Soumendu Roy – Chatterjee played Apu in Apur Sansar, but his interview here is
interesting in that it talks a lot about the way Ray directed his actors, which was, in essence, whatever worked best for the actor. Srivastava
played the young Durga in the film and while she doesn't have a lot of juicy info on the making, she does have very fond memories. Soumendu Roy was
a camera assistant on the film, and he shares a few stories about the technical side of the film, he also went on to be the director of photography
in some of Ray's later films.
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Excerpts from a 2003 documentary The Song of the Little Road – This featurette compiles footage from an earlier doc in regard to the work
of composer Ravi Shankar. Shankar talks about how he scored the film, why he used certain instruments for certain scenes, and the fact that the
entire film score was recorded in a single all-day session.