The Music Room

Good heavens! This is about as far from Bollywood movies (cheesy musicals) as one could get. Jalsaghar is a poignant rendering of social transition at the personal level -- the indigent aristocrat whose delusive and self-destructive obsession with bringing his music room back to life shields him from the reality of his family's economic and social collapse, and indeed hastens it; the showy nouveau-riche neighbor who embodies the rise of a new social order based on economic achievement rather than aristocratic roots and inherited wealth. There are parallels to Chekhov and Faulkner (Snopeses and Sartorises). The black and white images (the white horse!) are stunning. I saw this film in the 1980s, and remember it more clearly than the movie I saw last night. It is truly a classic.

The film is a masterpiece, a definite 10. As with the Apu trilogy, I am mesmerized and absorbed by the pacing and drama of the film. Even though the film uses music, its appreciation, and its status as the vehicle for its themes, there is no (or very little?) background music for the spoken portions of the film. This provides not only realism, but sets off the intense and magnificent performance of the protagonist. There is also a great deal of entertainment in this film: the music performances are excellent. I wonder if Ray found the best musicians of the region and gave them roles as performers in the musical soirees: performers playing performers. I have the sense that there is very little artifice in the cinematography. That is, I feel that the filming techniques were not highly sophisticated. But the eye, the light, the composition are almost perfect. I think that the other commenter (the only other one!) stated the themes quite well for me. I would only one: the obsession and self-destructiveness that come with pride and jealousy of one's status.

After leaving an indelible mark on the global stage with his pure & poetic The Apu Trilogy, Satyajit Ray brings his restraint touch & deft eye to the more conventional narrative structure in Indian cinema and subverts it from inside out. Jalsaghar aka The Music Room isn't devoid of the musical & dance segments that are a given in most Indian films but instead of serving as mere entertaining interludes, they play an integral role in the plot.

Written, produced & directed by Ray, the film concerns a feudal landlord's passion for music & quest for social respect in the rapidly changing India and his refusal to change with the times that leads to his undoing. Through his dwindling fortunes & decadent lifestyle, Ray attempts to illustrate the contrast between old & new India and the fate that awaits those who cling on to their obsolete past & are unwilling to accept or acknowledge the modern society.

Our protagonist isn't shown in a negative light however. Instead, the film observes his all-consuming obsession with music, pride in his social prestige & envy for his next-door neighbour's increasing fortunes, and how they contribute to his downfall. Chabbi Biswas' performance is nearly flawless, and he brings the ill-fated landlord to life with all his flaws & virtues in tact. Also adding to the experience are opulent set pieces, beautiful camerawork, and neat use of classical Indian music & dance.

Overall, Jalsaghar presents the Bengali filmmaker tightening his grasp around his craft, and is one of his most impressive directorial efforts. Much worthy of broader viewership and having aged like a fine wine, the film's slow pace & overlong finale may not appease everyone but its elegant & authentic portrait of India undergoing an essential transformation after independence and the tragedy of a prideful man who's destroyed by his own hubris makes it an enduring classic of Indian cinema. Thoroughly recommended.

Beautifully shot and with a great soundtrack, but a rather dreary story, which is a critique of idle members of the traditional zamindar (aristocrat) class, a celebration of traditional Indian music, and a depiction of the end of an era. In the film, a damn fool of a middle-aged man (Chhabi Biswas) squanders his family fortune as the portraits of four generations of his ancestors look on in his music room, where he hosts large groups of friends to lavish performances despite his dwindling funds. He likes lolling about, smoking a hookah and drinking cognac, and it's clear he likes the music as well, but what he likes even more is the prestige and status that he has, and lording it over one of his neighbors he views (and treats) as inferior.

I loved seeing and hearing the various musical instruments, the wonderful vocalizations, and the performances - especially that dancer towards the end - they were something special. The rest of it had meaning, but was less compelling for me, despite all the craft and attention to detail director Satyajit Ray put in. It would have been more interesting had we had gotten more depth and insight into some of the other characters. Certainly worth watching though.

This was seen in the monthly Foreign Film Series in a society for retired university (KU) peeps. This 1958 story is remarkably subtle, about the advancing age and declining wealth of a higher caste Indian man, a Zamindar (landlord), whose income from his inherited lands is dropping from the previous levels of his wealthy ancestors because increasing river floods have lessened his rentable property and income. He's unable to adjust his manner of living to either that change or simultaneous changes in the Indian economy that lead to new economic benefits and social mobility for many in lower castes. He's especially irritated at his nouveau riche lower caste new next door neighbor whose income comes from money lending rather than through inherited property and wealth; he engages in expensive rival concerts which he cannot truly afford and these leave him even poorer. Through two extended flashbacks we learn he had been married and had a son (16? 18?); both wife and son died together on a trip. So he's alone for many years. While Indian music is his primary comfort (played in "the music room" of his palatial home), he also begins to use it as his primary club against his "upstart" neighbor. As he ages we see his memory decline, e.g., asking one of his two remaining servants, "What month is this?" before he presents one last concert for invited guests (and to belittle his rival, his lower caste neighbor, an included guest) before he then embarks on an activity which leads to his death. Great examples of Indian music (but the closed captions on the DVD we saw had white type/lettering which sometimes was not very legible against its background). The movie also very subtly raises the question -- to what extent is this person (one's self or relative or friend) going through parallel sequences in the getting old process?