Bengali filmmaker Satyajit Ray, who is most famous for his monumental “Apu Trilogy,” crafted one of cinema’s finest gems with 1964’s “Charulata.” The film deconstructs a woman’s yearning for artistic expression and the cultural landscape of 19th-century India through a delicate, masterfully presented tale of a near-broken marriage.

Based on “The Broken Nest,” a novella by Bengali polymath Rabindranath Tagore, Ray’s film follows Charulata (Madhabi Mukherjee), an isolated and artistically inclined woman whose loneliness is neglected by her busy, liberal-minded journalist husband, Bhupati (Shailen Mukherjee). Acknowledging her alienation and creative impulses — particularly concerning literature and poetry — Bhupati instructs his poet cousin, Amal (Soumitra Chatterjee), to guide and inspire her through their shared love of art.

Amal, who has just graduated from college, loves to sing, write, play the piano and talk endlessly about the beauty of literature. It is in this context that he and Charulata connect. Charulata is described to the viewer as incredibly well-read and passionate about the arts. As they sit outside on the grass, exchanging verses of poetry and complimenting each other’s creativity, a deeper romantic attraction begins to develop, to their surprise.

In a sense, this is what Charulata has been longing for: a partner around whom she can be herself and one who can encourage her to take bold artistic risks. It is with Amal’s inspiration that she writes a personal anecdote about her childhood in a Bengali village, which eventually gets published in a local newspaper and puts her on the path toward establishing her own voice. These steps, however, come with heartbreaking results.

While Charulata’s longing for comfort and companionship is a central aspect of the film, “Charulata” is also a story about marriage. Near the beginning of the film, Charulata often tries to gain Bhupati’s attention, going as far as to have Amal give her company rather than himself. Here, there is a clear emotional detachment between Charulata and her husband, reaffirming her growing relationship with Amal, her cousin-in-law. As the film progresses, Bhupati’s realization of his wife’s alienation becomes as clear as her coming to terms with fantasy and reality. Together, they eventually decide to rebuild their broken nest and, hopefully, have a future together.

Ray’s films, while narratively rich, are also some of the best examples of filmmaking with purpose. The simplicity of the cinematography is remarkable, exuding even the most subdued emotions simply from characters walking down hallways. Ray, in addition to operating the camera, also composes the music for each of his films. In the case of “Charulata,” the musical score matches the tone and drama of each scene exquisitely, displaying genuine humanity while also emanating a powerful sense of cinematic poetry.

One of the many themes Ray explores in his filmography is his commentary on British colonialism and its effect on Indian and Bengali lifestyles; “Charulata” is no exception. As an editor, Bhupati routinely devotes his time to his political newspaper, “The Sentinel,” which he describes as Charulata’s “biggest rival.” He’s obsessed with politics and government reform, which makes sense given the political climate of India in the 1800s under the British Empire. By the same token, the English language is a subtle, but crucial, element of the film. It is often used by Bhupati and Amal as a means of mocking the British, and criticizing Westernization. The use of the English language also places incredible emphasis on this particular subject, allowing for effective social commentary around this imperialist era that is not exclusively cynical.

“Charulata” remains a vigorous and cohesive cinematic achievement. It channels Ray’s poeticism and emotional intelligence — in addition to his knack for unintrusive social commentary — to a degree so masterful that it transcends cinematic excellence.

Contact Yezen Saadah at [email protected].