Satyajit Ray, director, screenwriter, documentary filmmaker, author, painter and musician, to name a few, had an affinity for sketching since childhood. His drawing teacher in school used to say that he was Satyajit not only by name but also by deeds (translation mine). Admiring his integrity, a British manager of the advertising firm where Ray worked remarked that he was not clever.
Decades later, in an interview with film critic, Iqbal Masood, on The Chess Player, Ray said, “One can imagine the treatment of Merging with Wajid Painted Whiter and General Outram Blacker, which automatically adds to its popular appeal.” My treatment avoids this falsification.” (August 1978). Do they all get better? Does Ray’s work not reflect the ‘art of truth’ that he valued so much?
ray’s world
There is an extensive literature on the artistic merits of Ray’s cinema. New books are being written and all his films are being reviewed afresh. While Ray continued to innovate and explore new frontiers, critics, especially those based in the West, failed to keep pace with him. Yet, the underground truth of his personality and expression was never questioned.
In his book, My Adventures with Satyajit Ray: The Making of Chess Players (HarperCollins, 2017), producer Suresh Jindal honestly describes his experience of how meticulous Ray was in his research and treatment of the subject. Obviously, Ray took more time for his documentary on Tagore than for a feature. And in furthering the cause of good cinema, he didn’t mince words even at the cost of courting controversy and being misunderstood.
His criticism of his contemporaries Mrinal Sen’s film Akash Kusum’s Ray, the much younger Mani Kaul’s Dilemma, Kumar Sahni’s Maya Darpan and Bapu’s Sita Kalyanam stemmed from his conviction. In all these cases he clearly explained the reasons behind it.
While Ray criticized the early works of some directors, he was equally appreciative of others such as Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Shyam Benegal and MS Sathyu. Among his contemporaries, his writings on Jean-Luc Godard, which introduced radical departures from some of cinema’s established norms, or the comments on Ritwik Ghatak, which remained unimpressed with Ray, are cases in point.
In his convocation speech at the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII), Pune (1974), he indicted, ‘…that in our country at least, films are made virtually without the contribution of the director or at least nothing Have gone Of a positive nature…’, picked up some hacks. He argued that a variety of people contributed to a film here, the (often) least obvious being that of the director.
Ray developed his own style and cinematic idiom, often laced with wit, humor, and irony, while unnerving the audience. So, his comment that chess was not for Sholay’s audience was not meant to disparage Sholay. In fact, he had a ‘real appreciation for the craftsmanship of Sholay….’ What he indicated was that Sholay was aimed at a mass audience, whereas Chess was not.
Since cinema is the highest form of commercial art, the taste of the audience cannot be completely ignored. At the FTII convocation, Ray bares his mind: “Here an analogy can be drawn with cooking and it can be said that when a large number of people eat, a certain dish seems tasteless, Cook is in no position to blame them for failing to rise. To their concocted level… A film is a dead matter as long as it remains in cans. It comes to life and in the presence of the public in the theater only serves its purpose. However, staying true to oneself, to the audience, and to the demands of the subject is a feat few masters can accomplish.
In an article (April 5, 2023, The New Indian Express), Adoor Gopalakrishnan alludes to his Ray saying that he would have made a significant contribution to the original text of Vibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay’s Pather Panchali, given its richness in subtle detail and its keen observation In the context of life in a remote village of Bengal. Ray’s reply startled him, “No, Adoor, it’s all in the book.”
Although not a preacher, and not an individualist influenced by any dogma, his stand against state authoritarianism, religious superstition, corruption and loss of innocence was portrayed in his characteristic style.
cinema and deep truth
I still remember our discussion decades ago at his residence, when he explained how to portray ‘deep truth’ in cinema. This eagerness to go beyond the surface of reality and to probe deeply into the circumstances of our lives was imprinted on films. From truthfulness arose a determination to support causes dear to his heart.
Four decades ago, the tax authorities in Andhra Pradesh decided to impose entertainment tax on film society screenings. As I remember, the Vijayawada Film Society had received such a notice. Knowing that such a move would lead to the end of the activities of the Film Society, we brought the matter to the notice of Ray. Expectedly, he sent a letter to Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, who immediately intervened. The decision was immediately withdrawn.
According to Ravi Gupta, former managing director of the National Film Development Corporation of India, Ray was the only filmmaker he knew of who returned a few lakh rupees to the organization as unspent balance for his film, The Visitors Were. Having been associated with the production, commissioning and financing of nearly 200 films, he found this experience unique in every sense.
Satyajit’s Ray illuminated our cinema a lot. Has it not lived up to its name?
Amitabh Bhattacharya, a retired IAS officer, was working as Principal Advisor (Education and Culture), Planning Commission, New Delhi. He also worked in the private sector and with the United Nations Development Program (UNDP).