Gorgeous cinematography, attractive cast, fantastic music. Seriously, I wish I could find the soundtrack for this one. The voices are like musical instruments, full of feeling, and whether we see a performance as a break in the action or hear music and sound effects in the background, it always has an aching, haunting sense to it. Ranen Roychowdhury's eternal river song was a real highlight. All of it works perfectly for the story, which is about a daughter (Supriya Choudhury) who sacrifices her own aspirations in order to support her parents, two brothers, and sister. What held me back from truly loving the film, however, was in just how much suffering this woman endures. My goodness, talk about misery porn.
There are just too many times while in a conversation about her hardships, this young woman slowly turns to the camera with a dreamy look on her face and says something beatific. Meanwhile, her poetry-quoting father has his head in the clouds and is then bed-ridden with an injury, her mother harps on her mercilessly, her older brother shamelessly borrows money from her while devoting all his time to music, her sister has her eye on her boyfriend, and her young brother's focus is on soccer. They are all seriously annoying.
Aside from the qualities of the music that I mentioned, I liked how it helped me understand in a subtle way why this young woman would continue to support her brother (Anil Chatterjee) for the ideal of his art. It's beautiful, and we can perceive that. Unfortunately, much of her other motivation felt like too much for a person to take - even a gentle soul like this one.
When her sister (Gita Ghatak) and her boyfriend (Niranjan Ray), who she's both supported, begin seeing one another without feeling conflicted at all, and then she reacts without saying a word - and even allows her sister to take her bangles - it was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. And that, of course, was not nearly the end of the suffering she has to endure.
The problem with the story is that while there is plenty of escalation - her woes and martyrdom continue to mount throughout the film - there is just not enough transformation. Deep into the film she mentions "I never protested the wrongs done to me. That's my sin," recognizing that she should have stood up for herself, but it's mild and in a victim blaming herself kind of way. There is never a true moment of realization that her own family is cruelly taking advantage of her, or a hint of bitterness. You could say that at the end, she's realized something while knowing that she is tragically too late, but by that point, over two hours in, it was too little, too late for this viewer.
The melodrama is moving and emotional, but I think would have been more powerful had the main character not been the "idealized Bengali woman," dutiful to the point of annihilation. I also wish it had been a little more explicit in its commentary about the Partition of Bengal, which I understand was one of director Ritwik Ghatak's main concerns, though I confess that my own ignorance might have caused me to miss unspoken references and cues. Overall though, it's worth seeing for its visual and aural beauty.
There are just too many times while in a conversation about her hardships, this young woman slowly turns to the camera with a dreamy look on her face and says something beatific. Meanwhile, her poetry-quoting father has his head in the clouds and is then bed-ridden with an injury, her mother harps on her mercilessly, her older brother shamelessly borrows money from her while devoting all his time to music, her sister has her eye on her boyfriend, and her young brother's focus is on soccer. They are all seriously annoying.
Aside from the qualities of the music that I mentioned, I liked how it helped me understand in a subtle way why this young woman would continue to support her brother (Anil Chatterjee) for the ideal of his art. It's beautiful, and we can perceive that. Unfortunately, much of her other motivation felt like too much for a person to take - even a gentle soul like this one.
When her sister (Gita Ghatak) and her boyfriend (Niranjan Ray), who she's both supported, begin seeing one another without feeling conflicted at all, and then she reacts without saying a word - and even allows her sister to take her bangles - it was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. And that, of course, was not nearly the end of the suffering she has to endure.
The problem with the story is that while there is plenty of escalation - her woes and martyrdom continue to mount throughout the film - there is just not enough transformation. Deep into the film she mentions "I never protested the wrongs done to me. That's my sin," recognizing that she should have stood up for herself, but it's mild and in a victim blaming herself kind of way. There is never a true moment of realization that her own family is cruelly taking advantage of her, or a hint of bitterness. You could say that at the end, she's realized something while knowing that she is tragically too late, but by that point, over two hours in, it was too little, too late for this viewer.
The melodrama is moving and emotional, but I think would have been more powerful had the main character not been the "idealized Bengali woman," dutiful to the point of annihilation. I also wish it had been a little more explicit in its commentary about the Partition of Bengal, which I understand was one of director Ritwik Ghatak's main concerns, though I confess that my own ignorance might have caused me to miss unspoken references and cues. Overall though, it's worth seeing for its visual and aural beauty.