Shamya Dasgupta’s ‘Unmechanical — Ritwik Ghatak in 50 Fragments’: Why Ritwik Ghatak remains a cult figure

Leaving aside Satyajit Ray, Ritwik Ghatak (1925-1976) was arguably Indian cinema’s most original auteur. This is remarkable since in his short life, Ritwik completed only eight feature films, all in Bengali, on which his formidable reputation is built. The first feature, ‘Nagarik’ (‘The Citizen’, 1952), was released after his death. He also made about 18 short films and documentaries, many lying unfinished.

The Ritwik cult was perhaps created during his brief stint as a professor, (and during subsequent visits) more as a mentor, at Pune’s Film and Television Institute in the mid-1960s. He inspired many like Mani Kaul, Kumar Shahani, John Abraham, Saeed Akhtar Mirza, Kundan Shah and Adoor Gopalakrishnan, who devoted their lives to making meaningful cinema. They extolled Ghatak’s vision and creativity, but how many of Ghatak’s disciples followed his path and continued his legacy remains debatable.

Repeated failures at the box office sapped his energy and made him frustrated, but he refused to compromise with his artistic integrity. He could’ve become a commercially successful director, having earlier written the screenplay of Bimal Roy’s ‘Madhumati’ and Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s ‘Musafir’, but Bombay’s film world disappointed him.

Much has been written about his undisciplined lifestyle. But even those critical of the personality traits of Ghatak, the man, recognised his masterstrokes in film after film, unsullied by his bohemian ways.

These apparent contradictions, and many more facets that illuminate Ghatak’s life and works, have been faithfully captured in this carefully curated, well-researched and comprehensive account. This compendium of 50 essays, old and new, written by filmmakers, artistes, relatives and friends, has been divided into a few sections: ‘The Language of Cinema’; ‘A Bio-sketch in Seven Parts’; ‘Ritwik and I, Part One: The Collaborators’; ‘Discovering Ritwik’; ‘Reading Ritwik, Writing Ritwik’; ‘Ritwik, by Ritwik’; ‘Ritwik and I, Part Two: The Auteurs’; and finally, ‘Surama and Ritwik’ [Surama was Ritwik’s wife].

This tome is meant for the cinephile, not for the casual reader for whom Ritwik is just a famous name. More in-depth analyses of Ritwik’s oeuvre having been available in Bengali, there was a long-standing need for a fitting volume in English, during his birth centenary year. This book fulfills that.

Many unforgettable sequences of Ritwik’s celebrated films evoke a feeling of nostalgia for a lost world. But what is unique is the way raw passion and untrammeled emotions are transported to a higher plane of consciousness. Without a complete grasp over the film medium and a profound understanding of one’s cultural roots, none can use melodrama to reach this level of excellence.

As Kumar Shahani writes, “With the suffering of Partition (into East and West Bengal), he (Ritwik) also took on the guilt of the dismemberment of his ‘mother’… He tried to fight those who had violated and killed the unity of this mother-surrogate…”

However, to judge Ritwik by his well-known films — the Partition trilogy of ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’ (‘The Cloud-Capped Star’, 1960), ‘Komal Gandhar’ (‘E-Flat’, 1961) and ‘Subarnarekha’ (1962, released in 1965); ‘Titas Ekti Nadir Naam’ (‘A River Called Titas’, 1973, an Indo-Bangladesh collaboration); and his last, ‘Jukti, Tokko Aar Goppo’ (‘Reason, Debate and a Story’, 1974) — would be unfair. His first released film, ‘Ajantrik’ (‘The Unmechanical’, 1958), way ahead of its time, remarkably original, often cited as anthropomorphic, was about the intimacy developed between an automobile (a taxi) and its driver. Ritwik also wrote with conviction.

Arun Khopkar writes, “Indian culture is syncretic, and includes even the pre-Vedic animistic practices and non-Aryan visions of the world”, the impression of which can be seen in Ritwik’s works. The filmmaker “was a close friend of the great historian and scientist DD Kosambi, who was the first to explore these beliefs and practices for a materialistic view of Indian history. Kosambi used to visit FTII and watch films with Ritwikda and his students”.

Interestingly, actor Biswajit Chatterjee writes about his association with Ritwik, who used him in a short film on Bangladesh, ‘Durbar Goti Padma’ (1971). Ritwik wanted Nargis to play a part in it. He told her: “We will shoot your scenes under that tree. We will install a Tulsi tree there... All you need to do is wear a red bordered saree…” She had to be Ritwik’s ‘Banglar-Ma — Mother Bengal’.

His documentaries include one on Ustad Allauddin Khan, and two of the unfinished ones were on artist Ramkinkar Baij and Indira Gandhi.

In his foreword to Ritwik’s ‘Cinema and I’, Ray wrote, “Ritwik had the misfortune to be largely ignored… in his lifetime. Only one of his films, ‘Meghe Dhaka Tara’, had been well received… This is particularly unfortunate since Ritwik was one of the few truly original talents in the cinema this country has produced. Nearly all his films are marked by an intensity of feeling coupled with an imaginative grasp of the technique of film-making. As a creator of powerful images in an epic style, he was virtually unsurpassed in Indian cinema.” Ritwik was neither influenced by Hollywood, nor by Ray.

This book, almost encyclopaedic in its sweep (though without an Index), would definitely kindle the interest of serious film-goers to revisit Ghatak.

— The reviewer is a former IAS officer and a film aficionado