Jana Aranya: A Forgotten Classic review
And the winner of week-II of the DearCinema Review Contest is Dr. Balkrishna Nayak, today we present his review of Satyajit Ray's 1976 film Jana Aranya
When the Satyajit Ray canon is dissected, ‘˜Jana Aranya’ rarely ever rates a mention. Usually categorized as part of the ‘˜Calcutta Trilogy’ with “Seemabadha’ and “Pratidwandi”, inevitably the film is dismissed as a minor work not even a minor classic as several of the film maker’s less distinguished works are charitably labeled.
WHY, I ask you?
In my opinion Jana Aranya represents a certain high-water mark of Ray’s film making craft. Made with clinical precision, the film flows well-oiled in every department. The script is lean and sharp and the whole film has a self-effacing feel minus even a hint of any kind of indulgence. Take Somnath the protagonist of the film and compare him with the complicated Dhritiman of ‘˜Pratidwandi’: none of that in-your-face intensity, instead a most refreshing debut by Pradip Mukherjee who has to be one of the most likeable characters ever in a Ray film.
The film begins with this young naïf dealt a double whammy; freakily the education system effectively knocks him out from the race for higher babudom, while his childhood love calculatedly dumps him. In a daze, he does the rounds of ludicrous interviews and in the company of his buddy Sukumar even importunes local politicians for a break. Made during the emergency, Ray clearly lets us know his thoughts about this ilk even including a sinister wall-caricature of Indira Gandhi apparently done by himself , without dropping his essential detachment from politics of any kind.
At home Somnath is mothered by his bhabhi, not taken seriously by his cynical, know-it-all brother and is now a cause of perpetual worry to his retired, extra-respectable father who had great ambitions for him. The seemingly endless quest for employment catapults him into the ambit of Bishuda- an exquisite confection by Utpal Dutt complete with East Bengali dialect- with whom he shares the Calcuttan’s passion for soccer. Ray etches another part of Calcutta here, far away from the boxwallahs of “Seemabbadha” with their ersatz Raj-type lifestyle.
Utpal Dutt’s businessman Bishuda, a former refugee from East Bengal reveals how he made his first sale by retailing oranges on the pavement. Now he is the proprietor of one, two or any number of concerns which exist mainly on visiting cards and stationery. Besides himself, the premises house several tables which he rents to other entrepreneurs. He proposes that Somnath occupy one which is vacant and start his own trade.
‘˜Business’ he explains is simply ‘˜Order- Supply’. Anything from a ‘˜Pin to an Elephant’. In a bravura sequence, he recounts how he once actually sold a pachyderm which was bankrupting its marwari owner and pocketed a commission. Somnath is slightly taken aback when hears the Bengali for this is ‘˜Dalal’-procurator; call yourself a ‘˜Middle-man’, Bishuda euphemistically suggests. As a gift he offers rent-free use of the office space for three months and even introduces him to several resourceful friends one of whom quickly masterminds Somnath’s first order for envelopes and office paper from a firm.
The characters Ray creates for this environment are brilliant, almost Billy Wilderish creations: take the ancient, pernickety printer who while taking specifications for Somnath’s business cards reveals that ‘˜Banerjee’ can be spelt in a dozen different ways or the genial paan-chewing Adok, the sales-tax genius.
Tasting initial success Somnath soon finds the wiles that dominate this world as he quickly loses his new found client through carelessness. He is once again rescued by one of Bishuda’s troubleshooters.
Somewhat wiser after this reverse, his little enterprise begins to flourish.
Running parallel to Somnath’s modest success is the abject failure of his friend Sukumar Ray contrasts the two households well. Somnath’s old but comfortable middle-class home with the slum where his friend lives.
Nothing can be more divergent than the two fathers — one endlessly agonizing and moralizing while sipping tea supplied by the dutiful daughter-in-law and the other still forced to be the breadwinner of a large household. For him all ills have only one cure, self-administered homeopathy; why waste money on a doctor? Sukumar also has numerous siblings among whom only his sister Kauna holds a dodgy job. This a genteel family brutalized by the city by real, tangible problems.
The darkest part of the film appropriately begins with an attempt by Somnath to secure a large order to sell ‘˜Optical Whitener’- used to bleach and shine cloth- to a wealthy mill owner. As a sweetener Somnath naively invites him for a meal. The man declines on health grounds. Somnath takes a ride home with the man. Ray moves from subtle to the obvious as an unspoken, inadvertent hint appears, missed by the staid Somnath.
Somanth finds himself enlistings the services of a fixer, Mr. Mittir played by the irrepressible, imp-like figure of Robi Ghosh, another Bishuda contact and another luminous creation. Armed with trick girlie pens and his show stopper watch besides an elephantine memory, the suit clad Mittir stalks prospective clients from the finest restaurants to prayer meetings and will stop at nothing to clinch a deal. Mittir’s research is able to precisely indicate what the man wants. Ray provides a gritty, dark ride through Calcutta’s underbelly as Somnath and Mittir begin their search for a woman who is to be delivered at a certain hotel.
At one point Somnath’s initiative flags, Mittir mercilessly exposes the contradictions in his character. Middle class hypocrisy, even in an essentially decent man, comes a cropper as Somnath finally seals the Faustian bargain. There is one final twist when disgustedly he loses stomach for what is he is doing. This is successfully negotiated more due to the professional pride of the lady of the night who having accepted his money will not let Somnath down. Finally the deed is done, leaving him richer but with an eternal bad taste in his mouth.
