Jalsaghar (1958), sometimes listed as The Music Room, is another magnificent film directed by the great Satyajit Ray. Though less intimate than his "Apu Trilogy," it features performances of traditional Indian music and dance that are alone worth the price of admission.

Historical Background: Satyajit Ray was born in Calcutta on May 2nd, 1921, into a family prominent in the arts and letters. Ray's grandfather was part of the zamindar (feudal landowner) tradition that plays such a prominent role in Jalsaghar. After studying economics at the University of Calcutta, Ray attended Shantiniketan, a university operated by a Hindu poet, to study painting and art history. He then took a job in 1942 for a British firm as an art director. One of the books that he illustrated was Pather Panchali, which he would later use as the source material for his debut film. During a business trip to London in 1950, he had the chance to see De Sica's The Bicycle Thief and realized immediately that De Sica's Neo-realism (non-professional performers and location shooting) would be an ideal way to accomplish his dream of filming Pather Panchali. Back in India, Ray observed the filming of The River by Jean Renoir and with Renoir's encouragement, began shooting Pather Panchali on weekends with the help of friends. He spent his entire salary, sold his possessions, and pawned his wife's jewelry (much like Huzur in Jalsaghar) to fund the project, but, even so, was about to give it up after a year-and-a-half, when the Bengal government agreed to fund the remainder of the film based on a screening of the preliminary work. Pather Panchali (1955) made a great stir when it landed at the Cannes Film Festival in 1956, winning a special jury prize.

Pather Panchali ultimately became the first part of Ray's great "Apu Trilogy," which was completed by the addition of Aparajito (1956) and The World of Apu (1959). Ray is now widely considered to be the greatest Indian director ever as well as one of the top half-dozen or so directors, worldwide, in the history of cinema. He received an honorary Academy Award for career achievement in 1992 and died shortly thereafter. He maintained a high level of artistic integrity throughout his career and his later works, though lacking the purity and intimacy of his "Apu Trilogy," increased in technical mastery and stylistic complexity. I particularly recommend Charulata (1964) from among his post-1960 works. Jalsaghar was made between the second and third films of the "Apu Trilogy" and serves as a powerful counterpoint. Whereas the films of the trilogy dealt with poverty and the struggling lower class in India, Jalsaghar examined life in the India of the 1930's at the other end of the social spectrum: the Bengali landed gentry (called "zamindar"), the nouveau riche, and the conflict between the two. Many of Ray's films, including the present one, deal with the tension in India between new and old. Perhaps Ray's greatest gift as a director was the ability to advance his stories and themes through visual images as much as by dialog.

The Story: As the story opens, Huzar Biswambhar Roy (Chhabi Biswas), a landowner of noble lineage, has lost his taste for life altogether. He sits alone on the roof of his palace, smoking opium from a hookah and staring blanking off into space. So detached is he from his surroundings that he has to ask one of his few remaining servants (Kali Sarkar) what month it is. We are about to learn how he sank to this abject state of despondency through an extended flashback.

For many years, Huzar had been living in the manner of his ancestors but beyond his present means. His life had centered on his love of music, opium and wine, and evenings of lavish entertainment in his jalsaghar (or music room), constructed expressly for the purpose of hosting large parties of the local gentry. Singers, instrumentalists, and dancers were invited to perform in ornate surroundings for the enjoyment of the guests. Magnificent crystal chandeliers hung overhead and paintings of Huzar's noble ancestors adorned the walls. For Huzar, his prestige in the community depended on maintaining this show of taste and means, regardless of the warnings of his estate manager (Tulsi Lahiri) that "funds are low and expenses are heavy." As his debts accumulated, he had learned that his bank would no longer extend credit. He had finally even turned to mortgaging his wife's jewelry, piece by piece.

The anxieties of Huzar's wife, Mahamaya (Padmadevi), about his continued spending, are of no avail. Huzar pampers his only son, Khoka (Pinaki Sengupta), and orders an especially extravagant celebration for Khoka's "thread" (coming-of-age) ceremony, observing, "If I restrict my expenses I will lose prestige!" Huzar's pride is fueled, in part, by the recent ascendancy, in the community, of Mahim Ganguly (Gangapada Basu), who has grown quite wealthy, but who remains a mere money-lender (and, worse, the son of a money lender) in the eyes of Huzar. Mahim has built a new house, complete with an electric generator. Mahim also owns the only motorcar in town while Huzar's servants travel about on Huzar's once-prestigious elephant and light the palace with candles in the evening. Huzar is determined not to allow the upstart Mahim to outdo him in the grandeur of social events.

Mahamaya is called upon to visit her family of birth some distance away, which involves a boat trip down the river. Khoka will accompany her, but Huzar refuses to leave the comfort of his palace. While his family is away, Huzar receives a pro forma invitation from Mahim to attend the "housewarming" for his new dwelling. Huzar declines and instead instructs his servants to schedule a competing event for the same evening. He also sends word to his wife to be sure to return for the occasion. She is late, however, and as the musicians play, the weather outside turns nasty, as a great lightening and thunderstorm develops. The next morning, Huzar receives tragic news: his wife and son have perished while returning. Their houseboat was caught in a whirlpool. The inconsolable Huzar orders the jalsaghar closed forever and retreats to his opium and palatial rooftop, where we found him at the beginning of the film.

Huzar's finances continue to deteriorate. All but the most loyal retainers are released and some of the furnishings of the palace must be auctioned off. Huzar continues to mope about. The final ignominy comes when Mahim arrives to invite Huzar to attend the inauguration of his new jalsaghar. The event is to feature a magnificent dancer, Krishna Bai, who is currently all the rage. Huzar is incensed that the upstart hopes to upstage him in his own former specialty.

Huzar orders his servants to reopen his jalsaghar and organize one last lavish jalsas (recital), including the services of Krishna Bai. Every last coin in the household is commandeered to pay for the event. The performance by Krishna Bai and the musicians who accompany her is utterly stunning. Mahim, who was invited, naturally, offers to pay the performers at the end of the evening, but with a grand flourish, Huzar tips the dancer with the last of his coins. After the guests have departed, Huzar glories in his triumph – until the last of the palace's candles burn out, just as the dawn signals the end of Huzar's era and the rise of Mahim's. Now shamelessly drunk, Huzar toasts the paintings of his ancestors and himself, like so many ghosts of the past. Despite his poor physical condition, Huzar mounts his white steed – the last remaining symbol of his former greatness – and races off to inevitable doom.

Themes: Satyajit Ray once again takes up one of his favorite themes in Jalsaghar – the dynamic conflict between old and new. Huzar obviously represents the old, the landed gentry living off the prestige of their ancestors and their dwindling resources. Mahim, by contrast, belongs to the emerging world of commerce and earned wealth. Both are prideful fools, to an extent, with an exaggerated sense of self-worth. Between the arrogance of bluebloods and that of the nouveau riche, there may seem little to choose, but Ray's sympathies (and my own) lean decidedly toward the former over the latter. When forced to a chose, the bluebloods get the nod, if for no other reason, because they tend to be more cultured, appreciating and supporting the arts. The townspeople share this viewpoint, extending the honorific title of "Thakurda" (Grandfather) to Huzar or calling him "Hujur" (My Lord), but showing no such courtesy to Mahim. We can feel for Huzar, a bit, because all of us, if we live long enough, will outlive our times. I suppose the only thing worse than outliving one's time is not outliving it! Huzar may be a fool, but at least he goes out with an admirable flourish.

Production Values: The story in this film has the feel of Shakespearean tragedy. Ray wrote the screenplay based on a novel by Tarashankar Banerjee. It's an epic kind of conflict, as much a tension between concepts (the new and the old) as between individuals. Viewers can't especially admire Huzar, but we can mourn the end of an era with a modicum of nostalgia. Ray makes skillful use of symbols, such as the magnificent white stallion, the elephant juxtaposed against an early motorcar, the lightening storm, and a spider crawling up the leg of Huzar's portrait as his empire comes toppling down. The story is well paced throughout.

Ray's cinematography is as fine as that of any filmmaker, in composition and the beautiful high contrast black-and-white photography. With a mise-en-scene comprised mainly of a lavish Indian palace, there's plenty of sumptuous visual beauty.

There are three extended musical events that take place in the jalsaghar. These are treated not merely as interludes but as integral to advancement of the narrative. There is palpable tension in the audience, between Huzar and Mahim. We observe that Mahim is rather uncultured and uncouth. Huzar has to shush him more than once when he begins to talk during a performance. The final dance number with Krishna Bai is among the best performance pieces I've ever seen in a film. If I were to travel to India, what I would most want to do is find a nightclub featuring performance of classical Indian music and dance. This piece seemed to me to be as much the quintessence of India as anything else I could imagine. It combined perfection of foot and body movement, hand and arm gestures, head movements, and facial expressions. The great Ravi Shankar was among the instrumentalists for this film.

The performance by Chhabi Biswas is outstanding and pretty much the heart and soul of the film. Biswas was a legendary stage actor in Calcutta. He was known to be temperamental and troublesome to work with, but a master of his craft. The secondary roles are also well performed.

Bottom-Line: This is a beautiful film, with gorgeous interiors and magnificent shot composition. There's a very strong lead performance as well as three outstanding musical numbers. This film is as close as I've personally come to a visit to India and a chance to experience its traditional culture. Beyond that, it is an epic tale of the conflict between old and new in changing times. I highly recommend this film. Jalsaghar is in Bengali with English subtitles and has a running time of 95 minutes.


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You might want to check out these other excellent films from India:

Aparajito
Charulata
Earth
Kadosh
Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India
Mother India
Pather Panchali
Salaam Bombay!
The Terrorist
The World of Apu

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 9 - 12