Rajesh Khanna's Four Aces: How He Made Failure Fashionable Rajesh Khanna's Four Aces: How He Made Failure Fashionable Hindi cinema has always trusted the winning hero. He gets the girl. He survives the climax. He restores order. And then arriveth Rajesh Khanna — who built superstardom on losing . Not once. Not accidentally. But repeatedly. Look closely at four of his most enduring films, all beginning with the letter A , and a pattern emerges. In each of them, he fails. And yet, audiences returned in droves. Even wrote in blood. Let’s call them his Four Aces: Aradhana (1969) Anand (1971) Amar Prem (1972) Aap Ki Kasam (1974) Different plots. Same emotional aftertaste: loss. Ace One (Aradhana): A Promise Unkept In Aradhana , love is intense and sincere — and cut short. A promise is made. Fate intervenes. The promise lingers in memory. He doesn’t betray love. Life betrays him. Audiences didn’t blame him. They mourned him. Ace T...
Shakha Proshakha (1990) – Probably Satyajit Ray’s Worst? | Honest Review by Sachit Murthy Shakha Proshakha (1990) – Probably Ray’s Worst? As I inch closer to the end of Satyajit Ray ’s filmography, there’s a strange brooding feeling that sets in. Only three more films (out of thirty five). That’s all. After that, no first-time Ray experience ever again. Having gone through the psychological introspection of Nayak (1966) , the moral collapse of Jana Aranya (1975) , and the enduring magic of Sonar Kella (1974) , I approached this late Ray film with both affection and expectation. Instead, I was left in hapless despair. And I say this with a heavy heart. This is probably Ray’s weakest film. Even the premise is bleak on paper. A dying, honest, successful patriarch. Four sons. Each positioned somewhere on the dishonesty scale. Two are “honest”, but one is mentally unstable, and the other is quietly depressed. The rest have comfortably adjusted t...
31/35: Ganashatru (1989): When Satyajit Ray Confronts Religion Head-On 31/35: Ganashatru (1989): When Satyajit Ray Confronts Religion Head-On Satyajit Ray was, at heart, a rational man. This is not something one concludes merely after watching Ganashatru ; it becomes evident when one traces the arc of his filmography. Time and again, Ray returned to the idea that religion—when left unquestioned—misleads. He explored this skepticism obliquely in earlier works such as Devi , Mahapurush , Sonar Kella , and Joi Baba Felunath . In these films, Ray wrapped his rational thinking around characters and situations, letting irony, genre, and humour do the work. Ganashatru marks a decisive shift. Ray abandons allegory and subtlety. This is a direct confrontation between religion and science, staged openly and without disguise. Holy Water vs Public Health The central conflict of Ganashatru is disturbingly ...
Ghare Baire (1984) — Feminism and Nationalism Unite To Destroy Ghare Baire (1984) — Feminism and Nationalism Unite To Destroy Ghare Baire is an ambitious film. Because Satyajit Ray attempts something extremely difficult here: he stitches together multiple emotional and political fault lines into one narrative. And in my view, he succeeds brilliantly. On the surface, Ghare Baire is about a marriage disrupted by a charismatic outsider. But beneath that, Ray is working on several battlefields at once. A Woman’s Desire Bimala is not simply a political pawn. She is a woman who has been adored, respected, even worshipped, but not fully understood. Ray does not sensationalise her attraction toward Sandip. Desire, curiosity, validation — these are not sins. They are suppressed energies finally finding an outlet. Freedom — But Curated Nikhilesh believes he is progressive. He wants Bimala to step out o...
Sadgati (1981) - Why the caste system is an incurable curse Sadgati (1981) - Why the caste system is an incurable curse Sadgati angered me. And while watching it, I kept thinking: maybe Satyajit Ray made this film in anger too. My anger is directed squarely at the shallow, obnoxious, uncivilised caste system of India. Seeing something rotten persist for centuries — and still being defended, normalised, even glorified. At the centre of Sadgati is a pot-bellied, self-aggrandising Brahmin who takes full toll of a lower-caste Dalit tanner. He speaks of virtue. Of customs. Of lineage. He even espouses the moral necessity of remarriage — not out of companionship or love, but to ensure that bloodlines continue uninterrupted. And yet, this same man cannot summon the bare minimum empathy for a fellow human being. He can make him toil for free till he drops dead — but cannot offer him water. Or food. Or rest. Or dign...
Hirak Rajar Deshe (1980): When a Film Tries Too Hard Hirak Rajar Deshe (1980): When a Film Tries Too Hard I recently watched Hirak Rajar Deshe (1980). I admired it. I respected it. But I wasn’t blown away. And that bothered me—because Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne still enchants me every single time. So I kept asking myself: Why? Not in an academic way. Just as a viewer who knows when a film holds him gently, and when it grips a little too tightly. One lands. The other tries. Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne floats through its story. It never seems in a hurry to arrive anywhere. Magic appears, songs erupt, kingdoms change hands—and yet nothing feels forced. The film doesn’t lean into meaning. It trusts that meaning will emerge. Hirak Rajar Deshe tries hard. It leans into satire, into warning, into urgency. You can feel the forward motion of intention. The film wants you to see what it is saying. It w...
Soulless detective film: Joi Baba Felunath (1979) review Soulless detective film: Joi Baba Felunath (1979) I rubbed my hands in anticipation as I sat down to watch Joi Baba Felunath (1979). That reaction itself was unfair, in hindsight. Sonar Kella had set the bar high. The sense of adventure, the danger, the childlike wonder mixed with real menace - Ray had given us a Feluda film that felt alive. So when Joi Baba Felunath ended, my feeling wasn’t anger or dismissal. It was disappointment. Don’t mistake me, this is a good detective film . Competently made. Clean. Watchable. But coming after Sonar Kella , it feels like a step down. And the reason, I think, is simple: the film has no soul . It works, but it doesn’t breathe. Everything feels a little too mechanical. Ray takes us back to Benaras - an evocative choice. This is, after all, the city he had earlier etched so memorably in Pather Panchali . ...
Shatranj ke Khilari (1977) - Chess, Friendship And Betrayal Shatranj ke Khilari (1977) - Chess, Friendship And Betrayal Shatranj ke Khilari is one of those films that doesn’t announce its cleverness. It simply unfolds, calmly and patiently, trusting the viewer to notice what is going on. At its heart, the film runs on two parallel tracks—two stories that seem separate at first, but slowly begin to echo each other. Both stories are about friendship. And both are about betrayal. Story A: The Big Game The first story is political. The British East India Company and the Nawab of Oudh. The British arrive as friends. They are polite, reasonable, and reassuring. Promises are made. Agreements are signed. Everything looks civilised. The Nawab, cultured and refined, believes that words still mean something. That friendship, once offered, will be honoured. It isn’t. This is not a violent ...
The Secret Sauce of Its Success: Why Sonar Kella Still Works The Secret Sauce of Its Success: Why Sonar Kella Still Works I recently watched Sonar Kella (1974) again. I liked it—as most people do—but more than that, I found myself wondering: why is this film so popular even today? The answer, I feel, lies in a rare combination: smart genre fusion, classical writing techniques, and a director finally at ease with colour and popular storytelling . Fantasy opens the door, suspense does the job Sonar Kella begins with fantasy. A child claims memories of a previous life. A golden fortress exists somewhere in Rajasthan. Reincarnation—an idea culturally familiar to Indian audiences—hangs over the story like a promise. But Ray is careful. He never turns this into a mystical or spiritual film. The fantasy initiates the narrative; it does not power it. Once the journey begins, the film quietly shifts into a suspense thriller and detective...
A Famine of Strong Characters | Ashani Sanket (1973) A Famine of Strong Characters Ashani Sanket (1973) is Satyajit Ray’s second colour film after Kanchenjunga (1962) . And once again, I couldn’t help feeling that colour restricts Ray. Black and white brings out the best in him — the sharpness, the moral tension, the quiet drama that breathes between faces and silences. Whenever Ray turns to social themes — Devi , Mahanagar , Jana Aranya — colour seems to work against him. The frames become heavier, the ideas louder, and the characters, oddly thinner. This time, Ray chooses the Bengal Famine of 1943. Rice disappears, prices shoot up, and people die in hordes under British watch. It is a catastrophe that needs no embellishment. And yet, in Ashani Sanket , the subject becomes king. The people living inside it never quite come alive. Gangacharan and Angana: names without force At the ...
Jana Aranya (1975): Satyajit Ray and the Making of a Corrupt India Jana Aranya (1975): Satyajit Ray and the Making of a Corrupt India By the time Satyajit Ray made Jana Aranya , he seemed done with anger. This is the final film in his Calcutta Trilogy—after Pratidwandi and Seemabaddha —and it feels like the point where outrage gives way to resignation. If Pratidwandi was about frustration and Seemabaddha about compromise, Jana Aranya (The Middleman) is about acceptance. Ray appears to have seen what was coming. Not just corruption as a problem, but corruption as a way of life. Something that would slowly seep into everything, until it no longer feels shocking. Just the reality. The story of Somnath is how Ray shows us this shift. Somnath ( Pradip Mukherji ) starts out where many Ray characters do—educated, idealistic, broke. He wants to be honest, but honesty keeps him poor....
Pratidwandi (1970): A Missable Film, Unfortunately I didn’t like Pratidwandi . Not because it’s political or difficult, but because it never really moves . For a film called The Adversary , I kept asking myself: adversary to what? There’s frustration everywhere, anger in the air, but no clear conflict pushing the story forward. Scenes pile up, moods pile up, but Siddhartha doesn’t arrive anywhere emotionally or morally. He begins restless and ends restless. This is where the film departs sharply from the Satyajit Ray I admire. Even when Ray is quiet, his stories usually move with intent. In Apur Sansar , every scene edges Apu closer to loss and responsibility. In The Postmaster from Teen Kanya , the emotional shift is minimal on the surface but absolutely decisive underneath. Devi steadily tightens its grip until belief itself becomes the conflict. Even a fantasy like Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne is propelled by clear wants, obstacles, and consequences. ...
How to Write a Character | Seemabaddha and Satyajit Ray Using the Syd Field lens on Ray I’ve always wondered how characters are built. Not acted. Not directed. Written . What makes a character feel solid, like they existed before the film began and will continue after it ends? Recently, while reading Syd Field on screenwriting, I found myself wanting to test his ideas on a filmmaker I trust implicitly: Satyajit Ray. Could I take a Ray character and view him through this lens? Seemabaddha (Company Limited), 1971 felt like the perfect test case. Shyamalendu Chatterjee isn’t flamboyant, tragic, or outwardly dramatic. Yet he stays with you. Which usually means the writing is doing something quietly powerful. Field talks about character in fairly simple terms. I’m expanding them a bit here: past, present, future, and then four basic pillars of character construction, to see how Ray builds Shyamal so...