trapped in the past
by Douglas Messerli
Satyajit
Ray (screenplay [based on a story by Tarashankar Bandopadhyay] and director) জলসাঘর
(Jalsaghar) (The Music Room) / 1958
Satayajit Ray's fourth feature film is one of his finest, even if it is, at
times, almost lugubrious in pacing and thematics. But then the world of
Biswambhar Roy (Chhabi Biswas), one of the last traditional feudal Zamindar's
(landlords) of 1930s, is a place of stasis, Roy languidly sitting on the top of
his palace, while smoking a hookah, as he stares down on the decaying rooms
which were once filled with joyful celebrations and overlooking the land which
for years served his forefathers, but which is now mostly flooded, with
backwater channels serving as access for small boats.
The film begins with Roy hearing
a melody, part of what he knows to be the Thread ceremony, celebrating the
coming of age of a son. In this case the ceremony is being carried out in the
nearby home of Mahim Ganguly (Gangapada Bose), a former loanshark who has made
it well, and for years has attempted to get the attentions of the lordly Roy.
Roy has been invited to the ceremony, as his servant Ananta (Kali Sarkar)
reminds him, but he no longer leaves his large house. It is as if memories and
time have frozen him into place. Ray uses the music, accordingly, to retrack
prior events, demonstrating how Roy has reached this position. It is, of
course, a kind of creaky device, employed in hundreds of grade B movies; but in
this case, since Roy's major love is music, it works almost as a kind of
Proustian trope, music opening up the story while presenting us with a brief
history of traditional Indian musical works. One might almost quip that The
Music Room is a sort of early variation of the Bollywood film, except that
there is far less emphasis on Western traditions than there is on ancient
Bengali music. Only the neighbor is fascinated with all things
But what a glorious past that
was! The director shoots entire scenes of music performances, beginning with
the Thread ceremony, this held for Roy's own music-loving son, Khoka (Pinaki
Sen Gupta). The guests are mostly awed by the beauty of the music as they sit
upon the carpets spread out throughout the lovely music room, topped with a
swaying chandelier and filled with beautiful objects. Only Ganguly seems
uncomfortable, envious perhaps, but also sweating his way through the
performance as if his discomfort emanated from his inability to sit so long in
languor. He is a man of the future, a man hardly able to pause in a world of
rapid change.
Roy's son is also learning to
sing, and his lovely performance, eventually interrupted by the slightly
petulant mother (Padma Devi), is one of the most endearing moments of the film.
We soon discover that she has every right for her peevishness. Little by
little, her husband has sold most the home's belongings, and for payment of the
initiation ceremony, he has pawned her jewels. Soon after, she determines to
visit her aging father, taking Khoka with her, leaving Roy, somewhat fearfully,
by himself.
Another kind of noise is heard
in the distance, a kind of rhythmic beating that one might almost call music
(certainly Cage might have described it as such). When Roy asks his servant
about it he is told that it is the generator atop his neighbor's house, and
from that instant on, except for the moments of musical performances, we hear
the generator pumping away in the distance, a symbol of the end of a quiet and
placid world in a time of movement and dust, as new goods are transported to
the neighbor's house along a dirt road.
Goaded on by Ganguly's
celebrations, Roy suddenly determines to hold another musical salon, using a
final bag of jewels for payment and calling for the return of his wife and son.
As the event begins, a huge storm has arisen, and Ray symbolizes his
character's growing obsessions and the possibilities of fate by focusing on a
small paper boat that has been blown over in the wind, a spider trapped behind
glass. As the concert begins Roy's family has not yet returned and, growing
impatient, he searches out his servants for news of their arrival. The boat has
been caught in a whirlwind, and his wife has been lost at sea, his son drowned.
We now comprehend the indolent
man sitting atop his roof, looking with despair upon the world around him. He
has, seemingly, lost everything. His world is over. The music room has been
closed.
Yet he does still have his
title, the respect of the locals, the memories of his former grandeur. When
Ganguly again visits him to invite him to a musical event with the great dancer
Roshan Kumari and singer Begum Akhter, Roy again declines. "I will not
leave my house," he declares.
Again, the music room is opened,
the light lit, the rugs put to floor, the wine poured into glasses. This
performance is perhaps one of the finest traditional Indian dance and song ever
filmed. It alone is worth watching all that has proceeded. The event is a great
success, and when Ganguly offers to pay Roy prevents him, throwing his last
coins at the feet of the performers. We recognize his life has psychologically
come to an end.
We hardly need the rest of Ray's
story, wherein, after the candles have been extinguished one by one, Roy takes
to his horse, madly speeding away across what is left of his once rich fields.
Suddenly the great Zamindar is thrown from the beast, his frightened servants
rushing to his side to tearfully embrace this once great man.
We recognize, however, that that
"greatness" is a double-loaded word. Throughout Ray makes certain
that we comprehend the immense self-serving pride and foolishness of Biswanbhar
Roy, that he is a self-enchanted poobah of his own making. He could not
possibly have shifted from his feudal concepts into the 20th century India that
was at the edge of a great transformation. Roy's greatness, perhaps, lies
primarily in his love of art, not his abilities to live and work with his
fellow man. His was an esthetic reality, not the practical reality of day to
day life, and in that fact, he was more a servant to his society and its
circumstance than were those who worked upon his land.
Los Angeles, November 28, 2011
Reprinted from International Cinema Review (November 2011).
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