Ray is electric
Shalini Rawat

Speaking of Films: Satyajit Ray
Translated from Bangla
by Gopa Majumdar
Penguin. Pages 220. Rs 275.

This first-ever English translation of Ray’s Bishay Chalchitra, a collection of essays describing his worldview on films, reinforces our ideas about him, that Satyajit Ray’s art was rooted firmly in the Bengali ethos and yet it manifested the avant-garde techniques and topics of his time. It iterates that Ray’s novels, stories as well as this anthology mirror the unique charm and lucidity that characterised all his films. His comments and analysis in this volume of essays makes it a veritable first reader for anyone wanting a peep into the world of films.

Written over a span of twenty-five years, these essays bring to you the varied flavours of both Indian and international cinema, with a generous helping of anecdotes and character analysis from his own films. The first essay, My Life, My Work, deals more with Ray’s personal evolution from a movie buff to a moviemaker.

Like most Indians, he talks of his fascination for films, from the silent-era films to the talkies as well as his passion for Western Classical music. That changed with entry as a student of painting to Santiniketan, where he fell in love with Bengal and discovered the art of
contemplation.

Much like his favourite author, Bibhutibhushan Bandhopadhyaya, he then starts feeding all your senses with the written word. He talks of dialogue and colour, background music and a film’s structure and style. He also weaves in names of the masters of world cinema, Chaplin and Griffith, Keaton and Dovzhenko, Eisenstein and Lubitsch, Donskoi and Yasujiro Ozu, Godard and Truffaut, Renoir and Kurosawa.

He discusses various conventional techniques unique to the art of film-making for persuading the viewer to "suspend his disbelief". He then discusses how breaking all conventions can also lead to a better understanding of the mood of the moment, e.g. how Pandit Ravi Shankar created music for one of his films by playing not just on the sarod and the pakhawaj, but also on pitchers, bowls, even cups and saucers.

He defends the use of colour in films, which he insists like sound, is part of our real world. In the same breath, he cautions against overusing or misusing it. He takes a dig at critics who consider their views to be decisive, as far as the fate of a movie is concerned, and goes on to defend his films in another essay—a mean match for the holder of a red pen.

Here is a chance to aquaint yourself with the creative process of a renowned director in his inimitable style. A pat on the back to the translator and editors for this wholesome treat.

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