When Satyajit Ray's body of work is dissected, critics are usually unanimous: Charulata (The Lonely Wife) is THE number one. The subtle nuances of the changing relationships between the principal characters is one of the great moments of cinema. Ray once also said that it was the only film he would direct in exactly the same manner if given a second chance. The Apu trilogy also figures among the greatest treasures of world cinema. In later years, of course, the magic of Goopy and Bagha and the suave polish of Feluda have been long been a part of Indian and particularly Bengali life and culture. Some of the most significant work that he did was towards the end of the sixties and the early seventies. Aranyer Din Ratri(Days and Nights in the forest), Seemabaddha, Pratidwandi, Ashani Sanket were all remarkable creations.But,what about Jana Aranya(The Middleman)?
This 1976 film seldom gets noticed and mentioned. Usually categorized as part of the `Calcutta Trilogy’ with Seemabaddha and Pratidwandi, the film is often dismissed as a minor work, not even a minor classic ,whereas several of the genius’ less distinguished works are more revered.
In my opinion, Jana Aranya represents a pinnacle of Ray’s film making craft. The script is lean and crisp and the whole film has a self-effacing feel minus even a hint of any kind of indulgence. Somnath, the protagonist of the film, was a most refreshing debut by Pradip Mukherjee who has to be one of the most likeable characters ever in a Ray film. It is a archetypal Ray film which features an acutely observed, personality-driven narrative and characters that are well-defined products of their surroundings. At the same time, its concerns are distinctly political, as it offers stinging commentary on the economic plight of 1976 India. At its core, Jana Aranya is a story of tainted innocence.Somnath is a shy young man who is surrounded by depravity. None of the rogues in his midst are blatantly evil. Rather, their villainy is subtle, and they justify their actions in the name of rat-race survival.
The film opens during a History final exam at Calcutta University. The invigilators monitoring the test take no actions to suppress the widespread cheating taking place, but protagonist Somnath ignores this. A bright student, he's too intent composing his answers and has no need to cheat. Still he is drawn into the fray when he is urged to pass on a cheat sheet note on to a classmate—clearly foreshadowing his future role as a "middleman." Due to the examiner's poor eyesight, Somnath receives only a mediocre grade and fails to graduate with honors due to this. That dooms his employment prospects since he's now lumped in with 100,000 applicants that respond to advertised positions. Getting in for an interview doesn't bode well either—a montage shows the absurdity of the questions, like "How much does the moon weigh?". In the company of his buddy Sukumar, he even importunes local politicians for a break. Made during the emergency, Ray clearly lets us know his thoughts, even including a sinister wall-caricature of Indira Gandhi apparently done by himself, without dropping his essential detachment from politics of any kind.
A slip on a banana peel plays a key role in the film, which causes Somnath to re-connect with an older acquaintance named Bishu Da - an exquisite confection by Utpal Dutt complete with East Bengali dialect - who encourages Somnath to start up his own business and forget about seeking a job. Without prospects and intrigued by Bishu's success, Somnath says that he'll need to talk with his father, who has made his own deal behind Somnath's back—a proposal to marry the daughter of a cement factory owner (and take over). Not happy with this prospect, Somnath opts to learn about Bishu's "order supply" business. Essentially this means acting as an independent agent between wholesalers and retailers for everything from stationery to elephants. In Bengali, the word is "dalaal" that translates as "pimp" but Bishu insists that he consider this by a more palatable title of a "middleman." As help, 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 : 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 Mr. Adok, the sales-tax genius.
Simple and direct, Ray creates strong and engaging drama that reflects contemporary life in Calcutta—and still holds in urban circles over 35 years.Running parallel to Somnath’s modest success is the abject failure of his friend Sukumar. Ray contrasts the two households perfectly. Nothing can be more divergent than the two fathers — one endlessly moralizing while sipping tea supplied by the dutiful daughter-in-law and the other still forced to be the breadwinner of a large household.
The darkest part of the film 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, Mr.Goenka. 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.
Somnath finds himself seeking the services of a “public relations specialist”, Mr. Mittir played by the irrepressible, imp-like figure of Robi Ghosh, another Bishuda contact and another luminous Ray creation. Armed with 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 - the services of a prostitute. Somnath is unsettled by the proposition, and defers a decision until the appointed confirmation call from Mr. Goenka on the following afternoon, and is left alone to choose between financial gain and moral consequence. 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 to Mr.Goenka at a certain hotel. At one point Somnath’s loses interest in the initiative, and 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 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.
Ray's sound-design is remarkable in the film. From the very start, when Somnath is pictured taking his final exam, there's no background music; all you hear is the squeaking of pens on paper. The film's silences are more attention-getting and mesmerizing than the most demanding background music.
Using a lyrical narrative, Ray depicts the hypocrisy of economic prosperity and professional success. Somnath's daily trips to the employment offices invariably take him through city streets riddled with homeless people and beggars, under a graffiti sign that reads: "1971 is the year of victory". Ironically, the potential sale of optical whiteners proves to be Somnath's darkest hour. Note the minimal, candle lit scene where a disillusioned Somnath alludes to his unpalatable task.
The Middleman is a fascinating, contemporary parable on the corruption of the human soul, a poignant tale of an idealistic young man who stumbles into a corrupt world outside of his creation, and is swallowed into the chaos. Terribly parochial and fragile concepts of morality and dignity are bludgeoned with Satyajit Ray's acid humor, albeit compassion and sensitivity worthy of Ray alone weave through the fabric of the story simultaneously. The film would be melodramatic in lesser hands or if it was not so searingly close to realities. In the hands of Ray, it turns into a brilliant x-ray image of an ever-degrading society.
The film is at its most astute when Ray offers up knowing vignettes featuring the subtly and not-so-subtly repulsive characters with whom Somnath deals.
For the humanist that Ray was, this is his only work which does not end on an optimistic note, easily qualifying it as the darkest film Ray made.
This 1976 film seldom gets noticed and mentioned. Usually categorized as part of the `Calcutta Trilogy’ with Seemabaddha and Pratidwandi, the film is often dismissed as a minor work, not even a minor classic ,whereas several of the genius’ less distinguished works are more revered.In my opinion, Jana Aranya represents a pinnacle of Ray’s film making craft. The script is lean and crisp and the whole film has a self-effacing feel minus even a hint of any kind of indulgence. Somnath, the protagonist of the film, was a most refreshing debut by Pradip Mukherjee who has to be one of the most likeable characters ever in a Ray film. It is a archetypal Ray film which features an acutely observed, personality-driven narrative and characters that are well-defined products of their surroundings. At the same time, its concerns are distinctly political, as it offers stinging commentary on the economic plight of 1976 India. At its core, Jana Aranya is a story of tainted innocence.Somnath is a shy young man who is surrounded by depravity. None of the rogues in his midst are blatantly evil. Rather, their villainy is subtle, and they justify their actions in the name of rat-race survival.
The film opens during a History final exam at Calcutta University. The invigilators monitoring the test take no actions to suppress the widespread cheating taking place, but protagonist Somnath ignores this. A bright student, he's too intent composing his answers and has no need to cheat. Still he is drawn into the fray when he is urged to pass on a cheat sheet note on to a classmate—clearly foreshadowing his future role as a "middleman." Due to the examiner's poor eyesight, Somnath receives only a mediocre grade and fails to graduate with honors due to this. That dooms his employment prospects since he's now lumped in with 100,000 applicants that respond to advertised positions. Getting in for an interview doesn't bode well either—a montage shows the absurdity of the questions, like "How much does the moon weigh?". In the company of his buddy Sukumar, he even importunes local politicians for a break. Made during the emergency, Ray clearly lets us know his thoughts, even including a sinister wall-caricature of Indira Gandhi apparently done by himself, without dropping his essential detachment from politics of any kind.
A slip on a banana peel plays a key role in the film, which causes Somnath to re-connect with an older acquaintance named Bishu Da - an exquisite confection by Utpal Dutt complete with East Bengali dialect - who encourages Somnath to start up his own business and forget about seeking a job. Without prospects and intrigued by Bishu's success, Somnath says that he'll need to talk with his father, who has made his own deal behind Somnath's back—a proposal to marry the daughter of a cement factory owner (and take over). Not happy with this prospect, Somnath opts to learn about Bishu's "order supply" business. Essentially this means acting as an independent agent between wholesalers and retailers for everything from stationery to elephants. In Bengali, the word is "dalaal" that translates as "pimp" but Bishu insists that he consider this by a more palatable title of a "middleman." As help, 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 : 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 Mr. Adok, the sales-tax genius.
Simple and direct, Ray creates strong and engaging drama that reflects contemporary life in Calcutta—and still holds in urban circles over 35 years.Running parallel to Somnath’s modest success is the abject failure of his friend Sukumar. Ray contrasts the two households perfectly. Nothing can be more divergent than the two fathers — one endlessly moralizing while sipping tea supplied by the dutiful daughter-in-law and the other still forced to be the breadwinner of a large household.
The darkest part of the film 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, Mr.Goenka. 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.
Somnath finds himself seeking the services of a “public relations specialist”, Mr. Mittir played by the irrepressible, imp-like figure of Robi Ghosh, another Bishuda contact and another luminous Ray creation. Armed with 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 - the services of a prostitute. Somnath is unsettled by the proposition, and defers a decision until the appointed confirmation call from Mr. Goenka on the following afternoon, and is left alone to choose between financial gain and moral consequence. 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 to Mr.Goenka at a certain hotel. At one point Somnath’s loses interest in the initiative, and 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 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.
Ray's sound-design is remarkable in the film. From the very start, when Somnath is pictured taking his final exam, there's no background music; all you hear is the squeaking of pens on paper. The film's silences are more attention-getting and mesmerizing than the most demanding background music.
Using a lyrical narrative, Ray depicts the hypocrisy of economic prosperity and professional success. Somnath's daily trips to the employment offices invariably take him through city streets riddled with homeless people and beggars, under a graffiti sign that reads: "1971 is the year of victory". Ironically, the potential sale of optical whiteners proves to be Somnath's darkest hour. Note the minimal, candle lit scene where a disillusioned Somnath alludes to his unpalatable task.
The Middleman is a fascinating, contemporary parable on the corruption of the human soul, a poignant tale of an idealistic young man who stumbles into a corrupt world outside of his creation, and is swallowed into the chaos. Terribly parochial and fragile concepts of morality and dignity are bludgeoned with Satyajit Ray's acid humor, albeit compassion and sensitivity worthy of Ray alone weave through the fabric of the story simultaneously. The film would be melodramatic in lesser hands or if it was not so searingly close to realities. In the hands of Ray, it turns into a brilliant x-ray image of an ever-degrading society.
The film is at its most astute when Ray offers up knowing vignettes featuring the subtly and not-so-subtly repulsive characters with whom Somnath deals.
For the humanist that Ray was, this is his only work which does not end on an optimistic note, easily qualifying it as the darkest film Ray made.
"I felt corruption, rampant corruption all around, and I didn't think there was a solution," - Ray declared, in reference to why he chose to make Jana Aranya.
"I was only waiting, perhaps subconsciously, for a story that would give me an opportunity to show this." 
