Review of The World of Apu (1959) by Kevin M — 29 Jan 2009

Satyajit Ray's Apu Trilogy comes full circle in its final installment. From the very beginning, the subtle changes somehow make a world of difference. There's a prologue before the credits, with the now fully grown Apu recieving his Bachelor's degree and exiting the headmaster's office into a bright void that seems to absorb him into The Adult World. Even Ravi Shankar's music seems to be richer, with less sitar noodling and more ominous sound textures. The recurring train motif is back in full force, as our hero's flat is literally next to the train tracks (just like my first apartment!); his destiny is almost within arm's reach.

His friend from university, already plump and successful, takes Apu out for a few drinks and invites him to a wedding, thinking the renewed taste of upscale country life will wash the foul taste of urban poverty from his mouth. The ceremony doesn't go as planned, in a strangely humorous twist of fate, and through more strange turns of the screw finds himself the groom of a 14-year-old bride. For the first time, he finds himself in love's indifferent embrace but also must figure out how the hell to provide for his well-to-do spouse. Tutoring just barely paid the bills when he had but one mouth to feed. What's a penniless intellectual to do?

Soumitra Chatterjee, as Grownup Apu, comes across as a bit of a dandy at first, but his arc is much more dynamic than in "Aparajito", to say nothing of his oblivious childishness in "Pather Panchali". By the end he resembles a ragged Tatsuya Nakadai and his inner torment practically oozes from every pore. Spoiling the plot would deprive it of its freshness, not to mention it would sound maudlin and Lifetime-esque. Ray's passive eye and painterly compositions take this ritualized, chaste marriage and elevate it to the realm of high art.

This may be the best installment in the trilogy, since the focus is almost exclusively on Apu. No more crosscutting, and we're out of the "One Damned Thing After Another" storytelling mode. "Apur Sansar" hinges on one central, Earth-shattering crisis, but there is also more room for the story to breathe. There are lighthearted scenes to lighten the mood; in particular there is a hilarious film within the film that shows Ray's innate gift for satire, and also echoes the "mythic" stage play during the "Pather Penchali" festival sequence.

The final scenes in particular effected me on a very deep level. Through Apu, I was somewhat able to sympathize with my own estranged father. Not forgive his actions, but understand what at first seemed to be senseless abandonment. But that's a story more fit for a therapist. Perhaps Apu's viewpoint will help to examine your own world, too.