Pather Panchali (1955, Satyajit Ray) (Patreon)

55/100

Second viewing, last seen 1993. The story goes that Truffaut bailed on Ray's debut at Cannes '56, allegedly saying that he didn't care to watch peasants eat with their hands. Boorish (and possibly apocryphal) as that remark is, I can sort of sheepishly and tangentially relate, because my heart does sink every time a film reveals itself, early on, to be about desperately impoverished characters and their hardscrabble existence. This reaction, I hasten to add before being canceled, is rooted not at all in distaste but in restlessness and frustration—an awareness that narrative and/or psychological complexity most likely aren't forthcoming. That's all but unavoidable, really: When one is preoccupied with mere subsistence, there's precious little time or energy for anything else. 90% of what we call drama amounts to sheer bourgeois luxury, the problems and neuroses of people who don't need to be concerned with where their next meal will come from; strong exceptions tend to involve stuff like rowing out into a pond late at night and screaming as you help someone sever your murdered father's hands with a chainsaw so that you don't lose your house to his bail bondsman. (Out of curiosity, I just now googled "movies about poverty." First example returned: Slumdog Millionaire.) Certainly, it's no coincidence that my favorite of Ray's films by far (rating: 88) sports a title that's translated as The Big City and concerns a two-income household, with the conflict actually arising from somebody making too much money (relative to her traditionalist husband). 

In short, while I appreciate Pather Panchali's historical importance, and would never call its high reputation undeserved, the movie itself is just too simple and straightforward to excite me much. Subir Banerjee's almost anime-huge eyes make him a superb camera subject, but Apu barely registers as a personality in this first installment*, functioning primarily as a passive observer. And there's not all that much to observe, really. I'd forgotten how much of the film's first half is devoted to the elderly and extremely wizened "aunt" (apparently she's actually the dad's cousin), who keeps filching food or encouraging Durga to swipe some for her, then gets huffy and leaves (in ultra slow motion) when chided, then returns and becomes a nuisance again; even the culmination of this cycle lacks any real punch, given her advanced age. Otherwise, Dad's mostly away, Mom frets about Dad being away, and the two kids explore their limited horizon. Ray reportedly shot the film largely in sequence, and it gets more visually expressive as it goes along—the trainspotting scene has real majesty, and a violent rainstorm toward the end (as experienced from within the family's house) evocatively suggests encroaching disaster. That's offset, however, by some shameless manipulation vis-à-vis (SPOILER HERE) Durga's death, with Mom declining to tell Dad upon his return so that his oblivious chatter and unveiling of a present he brought for Durga can achieve maximum cheap pathos. Only when Apu finds the necklace that Durga had earlier denied having stolen, and then throws it into a pond (see, there needs to be pond intrigue!) so that nobody but him will ever know, does Pather Panchali even aim for the exploration of deeply conflicted human behavior that I seek from a film not inclined to either superficially entertain or (really just another example of same) formally dazzle. And by that point, there's less than two minutes remaining. 

* It's likewise been many years (27) since my sole viewing of Aparajito, and I've never seen The World of Apu, so whether that changes later, I don't recall/know.