Director: Satyajit Ray
Writers: Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay, Satyajit Ray
Photography: Subrata Mitra
Music: Ravi Shankar
Editor: Dulal Dutta
Cast: Soumitra Chatterjee, Sharmila Tagore, Alok Chakravarty, Swapan Mukherjee, Dhiresh, Majumdar, Sefalika Devi, Dhiren Ghosh
The first two movies in director and cowriter Satyajit Ray’s Apu trilogy, Pather Panchali and Aparajito, were made consecutively in two years—Ray’s very first movies. Three years and a couple of other movies intervened before Ray finished this trilogy with The World of Apu. In that time Ray’s stature as a filmmaker grew, enabling more funding, perhaps attracting better players, and certainly simply getting better at making movies. All the Apu movies are based on autobiographical novels by the Bengali writer Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay, but Ray had absorbed even more of his Western influences by 1959. The World of Apu, the best of them, thus has affinities with and even stands as equal to such monumental landmarks as Fellini’s La Strada or Truffaut’s 400 Blows, rich with life and wisdom. Where Ray may have leaned somewhat mechanically into Freudian conceits in Aparajito, in The World of Apu it is Shakespeare that he turns to, much more skillfully, for its greatest resonance.
Apu has lost all his family in the first two movies of the trilogy—older sister, father, and mother—and he is alone in the world now in The World of Apu. Poverty is all he has ever known, but whereas, in Aparajito, he pursues more practical studies in science and engineering as a way out, at the beginning of The World of Apu he is unable to finish his education because he has run out of money. His interests have shifted too, from engineering to more of the literary pursuits of his father. And he appears to be good—we see, as he is leaving school, an instructor encourage him to continue writing, and we also see that a story of his has been accepted for publication. His best friend Pulu (Swapan Mukherjee) believes in him too. But Apu is among the most luckless of all movie or literary characters and the worst is yet to come—but not until after the best.
The first two movies in director and cowriter Satyajit Ray’s Apu trilogy, Pather Panchali and Aparajito, were made consecutively in two years—Ray’s very first movies. Three years and a couple of other movies intervened before Ray finished this trilogy with The World of Apu. In that time Ray’s stature as a filmmaker grew, enabling more funding, perhaps attracting better players, and certainly simply getting better at making movies. All the Apu movies are based on autobiographical novels by the Bengali writer Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay, but Ray had absorbed even more of his Western influences by 1959. The World of Apu, the best of them, thus has affinities with and even stands as equal to such monumental landmarks as Fellini’s La Strada or Truffaut’s 400 Blows, rich with life and wisdom. Where Ray may have leaned somewhat mechanically into Freudian conceits in Aparajito, in The World of Apu it is Shakespeare that he turns to, much more skillfully, for its greatest resonance.
Apu has lost all his family in the first two movies of the trilogy—older sister, father, and mother—and he is alone in the world now in The World of Apu. Poverty is all he has ever known, but whereas, in Aparajito, he pursues more practical studies in science and engineering as a way out, at the beginning of The World of Apu he is unable to finish his education because he has run out of money. His interests have shifted too, from engineering to more of the literary pursuits of his father. And he appears to be good—we see, as he is leaving school, an instructor encourage him to continue writing, and we also see that a story of his has been accepted for publication. His best friend Pulu (Swapan Mukherjee) believes in him too. But Apu is among the most luckless of all movie or literary characters and the worst is yet to come—but not until after the best.
Ray plays it perfectly in terms of breaking our hearts. First, Pulu talks Apu into coming along with him for a wedding in the country. Things are somewhat strange in the next plot development, which is that the groom shows up on the wedding day having gone insane and for some reason—call it country customs—the bride must marry that day. It almost feels like sitcom if you think about it too much. There is a good deal of urgency about it, and Apu is somehow drafted into the role. He has never met the woman, Aparna (Sharmila Tagore). He has never even had a girlfriend or been with a woman. But he is married that day. This is the hardest part of the story for me to follow, or even believe, but take it at face value. Things proceed quickly from here.
The couple moves back to the big city and Apu’s place, settling into his meager digs, dirty and infested with insects. Apu is ashamed of his position and inexperience and castigates himself as unworthy of her. But this Aparna is some kind of dream woman—she is committed to Apu and their life with love, patience, understanding, good humor. It’s such a beautiful fantasy and I happen to believe these things can happen too, perhaps a case of my own soft-headedness. Aparna is 100% adoring of Apu and at the same time insists on being treated as an equal. He teaches her how to read. She asks him to work less so he can be at home more with her. That is more important to her than the money he might earn.
This relationship is up there for me as one of the most beautiful in film. When she becomes pregnant, some months later, she goes back to her home to be with her family for the birth, but they write regularly. Apu dotes on one letter in particular, where all of Aparna’s complex character is caught in these lines he reads and rereads. But then Aparna dies in childbirth. It’s almost as sudden and wrenching for us as it is for Apu, although not really, because he very much goes off the deep end. The son Kajal (Alok Chakravarty, at least as much of a find as Pinaki Sengupta as the young Apu in the first two movies)—Kajal survives but Apu refuses to see him or have anything to do with him for years, which among other things does not impress his erstwhile in-laws.
Soumitra Chatterjee as the adult Apu is absolutely great here, elevating the entire thing, with something of the charisma of Jean-Pierre Leaud and Gale Garcia Bernal. All the extremes of behavior that Apu undergoes in the bliss of his marriage and then his years of devastated grief are convincing and moving. I liked Pather Panchali and Aparajito but utterly loved The World of Apu. Ray abandons the arch Freudian Westernizations of Aparajito and embraces a more naturally worked out blend of West and East in this absolute masterpiece. Maybe I need to say that I saw the movies in the Apu trilogy out of order when I first encountered them in the ‘70s—The World of Apu was first, which is perhaps why I feel the greatest connection to it. It stands head and shoulders above the first two, as good as they are. If you’re only going to look at one, make it The World of Apu.
The couple moves back to the big city and Apu’s place, settling into his meager digs, dirty and infested with insects. Apu is ashamed of his position and inexperience and castigates himself as unworthy of her. But this Aparna is some kind of dream woman—she is committed to Apu and their life with love, patience, understanding, good humor. It’s such a beautiful fantasy and I happen to believe these things can happen too, perhaps a case of my own soft-headedness. Aparna is 100% adoring of Apu and at the same time insists on being treated as an equal. He teaches her how to read. She asks him to work less so he can be at home more with her. That is more important to her than the money he might earn.
This relationship is up there for me as one of the most beautiful in film. When she becomes pregnant, some months later, she goes back to her home to be with her family for the birth, but they write regularly. Apu dotes on one letter in particular, where all of Aparna’s complex character is caught in these lines he reads and rereads. But then Aparna dies in childbirth. It’s almost as sudden and wrenching for us as it is for Apu, although not really, because he very much goes off the deep end. The son Kajal (Alok Chakravarty, at least as much of a find as Pinaki Sengupta as the young Apu in the first two movies)—Kajal survives but Apu refuses to see him or have anything to do with him for years, which among other things does not impress his erstwhile in-laws.
Soumitra Chatterjee as the adult Apu is absolutely great here, elevating the entire thing, with something of the charisma of Jean-Pierre Leaud and Gale Garcia Bernal. All the extremes of behavior that Apu undergoes in the bliss of his marriage and then his years of devastated grief are convincing and moving. I liked Pather Panchali and Aparajito but utterly loved The World of Apu. Ray abandons the arch Freudian Westernizations of Aparajito and embraces a more naturally worked out blend of West and East in this absolute masterpiece. Maybe I need to say that I saw the movies in the Apu trilogy out of order when I first encountered them in the ‘70s—The World of Apu was first, which is perhaps why I feel the greatest connection to it. It stands head and shoulders above the first two, as good as they are. If you’re only going to look at one, make it The World of Apu.
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