Sandip Ray's latest Pheluda adventure (rather misadventure) hit theatres across West Bengal recently. These are the thoughts of a dear friend of mine after watching the film. Read on:
Being an avid Pheluda reader, Gorosthan-e Shabdhan was not an unknown story. On the contrary, it has always been one of my favourites. You might ask why. It is because at the very heart of the story lies the re-discovery of history and old Calcutta; a subject close to my heart.
Mr. Sandip Ray has previously directed three Pheluda films – Bombaiyer Bombete (2003), Kailashey Kelenkari (2007) and Tintorettor Jishu (2008). I must confess that none of these impressed me. Yet when it came to Gorosthan-e Shabdhan, I was forced to put aside my skepticism, simply because this was Pheluda and this time purely in Kolkata, my and Mr. Sandip Ray’s own city.
Gorosthan-e Shabdhan, Mr. Sandip Ray’s fourth detective suspense thriller on the large screen – adapted from his father’s, Mr. Satyajit Ray’s creation of a young detective character, Pradosh C. Mitter alias Pheluda – opened in the theaters on December 10, 2010. The first week seemed to have given it the box office returns.
The question remains, is it worth the craze it is craving in the minds of the Bengali moviegoers? Let’s hope this analysis brings to light the worthiness of the film warts-and-all.
Let’s start with what impressed me about the film. Although there is not much to say here, yet there were certain uplifting elements. The film opens with a tone of suspense thriller instead of a whodunit. That is a breather, one must say, since in film mystery is 50 percent boredom and 50 percent shock, whereas a suspense thriller is 100 percent seat-of-the-pants edgy ride till the end.
The title of the film with the names of the cast and crew on marble obelisks and tomb stones, appearing on the screen is a genuine display of a creative mind. The sound track backs it up appropriately.
So what is Gorosthan-e Shabdhan all about? The plot unfolds around a graveyard of the colonial Raj, which is located in Park Street, an uptown locality of Kolkata. All the obelisks and marble mar mores display the names of deceased English men and women from the period of the Raj. A 20th century letter talks about a prized pocket waist watch of Francis Perigal (England) make, also known as a repeater (another name for a pocket waist watch), which is buried with its owner, Thomas Godwin who was a cook in the durbar of Sadat Ali. The letter is discovered by Narendranath Michael Biswas. His brother William Biswas gets to know about the watch and falls in the get-rich-quick tack and ploys to sell it to a wealthy, corrupt business man and a clock collector. In comes Phelu Mitter and unravels the plotting of the wrongdoers and the clock is returned to its lawful owner – the Government.
A dark evening setup exposes Narendranath Michael Biswas (N.M. Biswas) catching his brother William Biswas red-handed in the act of “grave digging” – no skeletons unravelled in the process though. The fight, which looked more like a struggle, brings N.M. Biswas flat on the ground with a powerful glow from the flashlight illuminating his face and a parallel lightning, which looked more like a wielding machine spark, bringing down a tree branch, which is the primary tell-tale on William’s shoulders. “Will” is thin and powerful to have withstood a strong bark of a tree to expose to his own self and us the thin blood that came out from his upper shoulder. The lightning, the bark and the friction breaks Thomas Godwin’s marble emblem, which, ideally should have scattered in all directions, we might think – let’s discover through the eyes of Phelu.
Star Anando, the TV channel in Phelu’s room reports the previous night’s accident in the graveyard. Phelu switches on the channel and unlike his reticent character jumps up to go proactive on the case uncalled for. The maestro when writing the story gave beautiful scenarios of Phelu’s psychology and research at the time that the case presents itself – a thing to recall here for the sake of reference. While solving a case in Fancy Lane, Kolkata Phelu discovers that it was Nandakumar’s gallows (Phanshi in Bengali) that gave the place its reputed name. The discovery prompts the young sleuth to collect a map of 1932 Kolkata and hover over it on the floor of his sitting room – very visual treatment and truly inviting for a scenarist to incorporate in the movie. But we never, for once in the film, discover Phelu in his own element. Sonar Kella (The Golden Fortress), directed by Mr. Satyajit Ray himself, exposed the detective during his daily yoga with his legs protruding up from the lower half of the frame. Phelu in his present avatar is very stoic, sitting like a vegetable waiting for a news to come to him to make him spring up to action. The character somehow falls out. Sabyasachi Chakraborty who plays the young detective is far from the imagery and tone that the character portrays in the book. He (Sabyasachi Chakraborty) has a paunch and his true age which is close to fifty comes out clean on screen. No amount of acting credibility can salvage the character on screen. On this note, the new Sherlock Holmes directed by Guy Richie is also far away from the looks and the illustrations of Conan Doyle’s or even the BBC Holmes, but it takes a Richie to interpret a character, and mount it more than successfully on screen.
Phelu with his cousin Tapesh (alias Topshe) and his friend and adventure crime novelist Lal Mohan Ganguli (alias Jatayu) sets off for the scene of crime. The discovery of the scattered marble emblems turns the conundrum solving mind of the detective to put the pieces together. But it comes out as a strange visual when we see that the pieces after such a natural catastrophe are lying like a jigsaw puzzle near and about the vicinity only to be picked up and arranged by Phelu Mitter. Where is the search? Where is the action that is so much a grain for films? Instead what we see is the close-up of Phelu and Topshe’s hands arranging small pieces of marble stones lying close to each other with an inter-cut of Jatayu’s smart alec comment – “hmm Jigsaw Puzzle” – turning the serious tone of the situation into a farce.
On discovering that Thomas Godwin requires in-depth research, Phelu visits his know-it-all friend-philosopher-guide and mentor – a Mycroft Holmes in all rights – Shidhu Jyatha (Jyatha = Uncle). Shidhu Jyatha, a human encyclopedia, recalls and tells him about Thomas Godwin’s life. Nonetheless, Jyatha regretfully reminds Phelu about the availability of the Internet and hints at his being an archaic source of information. Wonder why? Satyajit Ray gave Shidhu Jyatha a universal philosophy in Sonar Kella when he told Pheluda, “if I were to do a lot, then I would make a lot of trouble for others’ professional existence Phelu. Therefore, I have not done anything in life. Instead, I have kept open all the doors and windows of my life so I can let knowledge and information seep in.” The open mindedness of an old charm is explicit. In contrast, our director for Gorosthan seems to have kept a sad face for Shidu Jyatha. Phelu spurts that he cannot forgo the archaic habit of coming to his know-it-all Jyatha. Yet, he eventually goes to the cyber café and Jyatha takes a back seat. Why can’t Jyatha, an open mind, be given a laptop, where he fumbles to know more, which he can’t otherwise? For that matter, if Pheluda can have an up-to-date television set and music system then I fail to understand his inability to have a home PC, if not a laptop. Only the director can provide some explanations, or can he?
As the story progresses, trails lead to more trails and land us with Phelu in the Anglo-Indian colonies of Kolkata and into a particular house, which is now occupied by one of Thomas Godwin’s direct descendants – Marquis Godwin. A casket belonging to the Godwin family is used by Chris Godwin’s (son of Marquis Godwin) neighbour, Arakis to bring down the spirit of Thomas Godwin. The drama on screen is less than eerie and Phelu, almost comically, takes away the casket from the planchette table of the Anglo-Indian Arakis.
The content of the casket is taken out and Phelu discovers two smoking pipes from the British era, a snuff box and the diary of Godwin’s daughter, Charlotte Godwin. Ray in his story created a mood for the reader when he described how Phelu spent a sleepless night over the diary. The movie, however, shows Phelu sitting upright in his chair, hovering over the contents of the diary. The handwritten anecdote of Charlotte Godwin could have been more authentic in form, representing the nineteenth century handwriting of a woman. But the sombre mood gets lost in the background score backing up the montage instead of an ambient soundtrack.
Phelu goes on to describe a vivid account of Charlotte’s family tree and the era of the Raj to Jatayu and Tapesh, and we get to see juxtaposed images over the V.O of Phelu – a good multimedia presentation at best. Whatever happened to new methods of showing instead of telling? Mr. Sandip Ray commented on the TV series – Sherlock Holmes from the BBC production and their value of authenticity. Holmes in one of the acts uses a black board and in another a velvet mood board to stick pictures – surely an innovative contemporary direction. Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes is a case closer in time, if creating innovative authenticity is the point of discussion. Mr. Sandip Ray here shuns all the elements Phelu can use in a pro-technology world (here even his display of the classic blue note book pages would have done).
The climax is a restricted montage of the hyper suspense, which the story brings about in words. On a discussion held by Star Anando (a Bengali news channel) on December 12, 2010 (11p.m), Mr. Sandip Ray stated that the Pheluda movies are getting shorter in duration because he would sooner end his movies than witnessing his audience check their wrist watches in bored impatience. This is the reflection of a director who lacks the ability to hold back his audience with content so they don’t even turn back their wrists for a glance of the time. Hitchcock comments that the duration of the film is directly proportional to the endurance of the human bladder – to rest the case.
Gorosthan-e Shabdhan, for all who have read the story would agree, could be detection in history’s treasure troves, bringing into light a valuable document. The film could have its beginning shots from a map of old Kolkata which Phelu hovers on in his sitting room with an off screen voice from the T.V reporting the previous night’s incidents at the graveyard. The suspense could have also come from the old letter in the hands of N.M Biswas that triggered him off for the search or William… “Will”, being given the offer by the not-exposed corrupt business man. Well there could have been n number of beginnings to the very interesting woven story of Satyajit Ray. What makes the entire movie a sad case is a loose and matter-of-fact screen development and an under-nurtured treatment and all of this in spite the fact that that story is set in his city, Kolkata.
Alas! Another lost Pheluda story from Mr. Sandip Ray; another disappointment!
