Bengali Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray repeatedly pondered the intersection of post-colonial identity and rural tradition across his filmography. In his 1970 picture “Days and Nights in the Forest” — a 4K restoration of which recently made its U.S. premiere at the 63rd New York Film Festival — Ray takes that premise to its clearest. In this overlooked gem, Ray dissects class, masculinity and modern alienation through the deceptively simple setup of a group of friends on vacation. Combined with a forest setting, the stage is set for unraveling personal and cultural pretensions.
“Days and Nights in the Forest” follows four urban men from Calcutta who retreat to the countryside for a short vacation. What begins as a carefree getaway soon reveals uncomfortable truths about each of them, triggered by encounters with the rural poor, unexpected romance and the haunting darkness of the forest. Ray’s blocking, meticulous yet free, invokes Akira Kurosawa’s shot composition with central characters that take the focus away from the rest, elevating the camera’s depth and attention to detail. Subrata Mitra’s cinematography thrives in its restraint, capturing the lush Bengal forest with a muted richness that acts as a stand-in for overtly physical melodrama. The music, composed by Ray himself, is beautiful and rhythmic, going hand in hand with the fast-paced editing to create a truly masterful piece of cinema.
From the outset, the film is concerned with the nuanced relationship between colonial inheritance and displaced cultural roots. Shekhar (Rabi Ghosh) is the epitome of this paradox. He routinely boasts his English language skills as a sign of high culture, insists on shaving every morning, refuses to drink alcohol that isn’t imported and snarkily blasts local passers-by as “uncivilized.” All the while, he bathes outside, fawns over rural women and, ironically, is the only of the four protagonists who is unemployed. He and his friends’ affinity for Western culture is regularly illegitimized by Ray as misguided, seeing as none of them have actually visited the Western world. Ashim, played by Soumitra Chatterjee, is arguably the only open-minded one of the bunch — and even he admits his familiarity with the United Kingdom rests entirely on his exposure to English films.
Implicitly, this obsession with the West is the lasting force of British colonialism. This can be seen in how the characters dress, how often they speak English and how they flaunt their knowledge of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and William Shakespeare. Midway through the film, the four characters invite two upper-middle class women to their bungalow for tea and play a memory game involving the names of famous people, ranging from revered Bengali figures like Rabindranath Tagore and Atulya Ghosh to individuals like Karl Marx, Helen of Troy and Robert F. Kennedy. It is a comedic scene that is shot and scored to perfection, with the camera and music working in tandem to create a fast-paced rhythm between the characters.
Aparna, one of the two women, played by Sharmila Tagore, is easily the most intelligent and well-read character in the entire film, though her seemingly innate curiosity is later revealed to be the result of the tragic loss of her mother and brother. She and Ashim quickly connect, allowing for moments of vulnerability. By the end, Aparna’s composed empathy puts Ashim’s ego in check. After days of ignoring the bungalow gatekeeper’s wife’s sickness, he becomes concerned only after she mentions it. “We could have guessed,” he says, despite being told earlier. Though his development feels rushed and unconvincing, Ray’s interests are more narratively focused elsewhere.
Ashim, like his friend Sanjoy (Subhendu Chatterjee), holds a steady job in the city but clearly yearns for a more fulfilling life. The two once ran a newspaper, but have since abandoned that endeavor for jobs that ensure relaxation and a secure quality of life, and Sanjoy especially seems dissatisfied with the typical urban routine. He even rejects an opportunity of intimacy with Aparna’s widowed sister-in-law Jaya (Kaberi Bose), whose longing for comfort echoes Ray’s continued interest in female emancipation throughout his career.
What is perhaps the least engaging subplot involves Hari (Samit Bhanja) and his post-breakup desire for intimacy. He pursues village resident Duli (Simi Garewal) before being robbed. His narrative lacks the depth or richness of the film’s other themes. Likewise, Duli and the other locals are othered and exoticized — depicted as drunk thieves but also as keepers of tradition. The rural characters are reduced to a simplistic dichotomy, and while Ray has previously engaged in self-Orientalism, here the subjectivity is more evident. The story is told entirely from an outside point of view, which works both for and against the film’s thematic goals.
Contradiction, hypocrisy and uncertainty — these are the themes “Days and Nights in the Forest” dwells on, and while it is rather sprawling and unfocused, the commentary rings true today in a world plagued by post-colonial and diasporic identity. Ray doesn’t offer clear resolutions, but that is part of the film’s power. By denying closure, he exposes the shallowness of the characters’ self-perception and the fragility of post-colonial modernity. Over 50 years later, “Days and Nights in the Forest” remains a fascinating and quietly radical work that holds a mirror up to society in the process of post-imperial reinvention.
Contact Yezen Saadah at [email protected].
