Charulata (1964)

 Satyajit Ray's "Charulata"

There are certain films that reinvigorate my love of cinema. These films will always come as a shock, given that my affections for film never waned. But every so often, a film like Satyajit Ray's "Charulata" will come along and remind me why this artform is such a precious and remarkable gift.

What makes "Charulata" so transcendent its ability to communicate so much through its subtext, while turning simplicity into something remarkable. While Ray's early films were far more aligned with the theories and visual compositions of neo-realist films, his work in the 60s allowed him to transform into something far more formalist. Even while attaining formalist heights, the internality of its story does not suffer in the slightest. 

The film follows the titular Charulata, the intelligent and artistic housewife of Bhupati, an upper-class Bengali intellectual who owns his own newspaper business in 1879. As Bhupati challenges the modern politics of India and its oppressive rule under Britain, Charulata occupies her days cooped up and isolated in their well-polished and expansive home. After Bhupati instructs his recently college-graduated cousin, Amal, to instruct Charulata in writing, the two begin to form a romantic bond.

Of course, one of the things that color the themes of the film is its setting and context. The characters in the story (more specifically, their entire nation) have been under the political thumb of Great Britain for the last few decades. As the century's end grows closer, so too does the traditional world in which they live. Each of the characters have to reconcile with what this means and whether they will venture into this new world or stay clinging to the traditions in which they are accustomed. 

The main focus of this theme is our Charulata, who is trapped between two worlds: the traditional Indian roles of the housewife and the new possibilities for being a writer and artist. Ray often composes the motif of the caged bird and even places their pet bird in the framing and mise-en-scene to illustrate Charulata's deep yearning to escape her bourgeois entrapment. There are even moments when Ray places Charulata (and the other characters) behind the prison-looking bars of the window to illustrate this point further.

Amal even must decide whether to take a leap into the new world by travelling Europe or to stay in Bengali where things are more familiar. His decision hinges upon his affections for Charulata, who represents everything he loves about his native country. This is even more brought out of him through Charulata's revelation of his impeccable writing, which eventually gets published in a local paper. Her story about her upbringing in her small village impresses Amal, as his desire to travel and experience the lands of intellectuals gets stalled by this newfound love for her and his newfound admiration of that which is familiar.

Even Charulata's husband, Bhupati, is caught between two worlds. He is a very wealthy man and could hang onto this simple solace. However, his political desires to change India for the better by liberating from British control takes up most of his time, disallowing him to stay and nurture his traditional marriage structure. 

Each character is caught in the middle and balancing between two worlds. The traditional world is not without its merits but still somehow manages to feel restrictive and cages them in. The new world represents a sense of liberty and freedom for each: Charulata's newfound independence as both a woman and an artist, Amal's intellectual pursuits and travels, and Bhupati's political aspirations. 

What's equally fascinating about the film is that the 'love triangle' of its plot isn't completely black-and-white either. Despite Charulata's romantic desires for her cousin-in-law and what he represents to her, her traditional husband is not without his merits. As a viewer, you at no point feel any animosity towards Bhupati, given that he is both an outstanding husband, family member, and person. The push and pull between the two is not as easy as it seems, providing something far more emotionally complex than one would typically expect from this structural format.

One can even feel greater sympathy for Bhupati, who experiences a personal backstabbing by his business partner. This is what informs Amal, who cannot bring himself to equal this betrayal. All in all, each character garnishes our greatest sympathies, leaving this situation complex and not so clear. Even the film's ending leaves on an ambiguous note, in which Ray freeze frames Charulata's and Bhupati's seeming reconnection. It frames the situation as unclear as to whether either will get what they want and whether their marriage will survive. And thereby, whether the traditional ways will continue.

Beyond the film's magnificent emotional complexity, it is truly brought to life by Ray's most visually ambitious visual composition to date. His visuals are not grand and sweeping as an epic, nor are they as minimal and scrappy as his early days of a neo-realist. Rather, he textures the film with so much acute mise-en-scene and simplistic formalist cinematograhy that it pops in a way that really illustrates its dramatic tapestries. 

Scene after scene is a masterclass in simplistic visual composition. Ray's visual renderings are his most impressive to date, as there is so much communication and life in every moment. There is one particular scene that completely took my breath away involving Charulata swinging on a swing on a beautiful spring day. As she sways back and forth, the camera follows her swinging motion, allowing her to stay still in the frame while the world behind her sways back and forth. The simplicity of Ray's choice is one of beauty., much like every other scene and frame in the film.

Almost a decade after his debut, "Pather Panchali," "Charulata" illustrates Satyajit Ray's growth as a filmmaker and his mastery of the medium. I consider the work one of the pinnacles of his career and demonstrates how art can continue to communicate complex and universal concepts through the simplest, recognizable stories. Even more so, Madhabi Mukherjee, who plays the titular character, is an image of beauty and grace and whose performance is perhaps one of the most memorable I've seen in a while.