To celebrate the centenary year of Satyajit Ray, arguably the most remarkable filmmaker born on Indian soil, Firstpost will explore the lesser known aspects of his life.
In the first three parts, we look at his relationship with his filmmaker-son Sandip Ray, through anecdotal and visual inputs provided by the latter.
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At home, Satyajit Ray was always at work. So the family would allow him that space.
“When he was shooting, father, mother and myself would get together in his study to assess the day’s output. He would dwell on facets like shots executed during that day’s session, and point to ones which would need to be re-shot the next day if he was somehow dissatisfied. Father would also discuss an actor’s performance, and wonder whether it had made the mark. On the contrary, he was ebullient if shooting on a particular day had come off well. But, he wouldn’t spend too much time on this reevaluation and get back to work. He always preferred to dine together, if he was in the midst of making a film and lunch with us if possible, for instance, when he was piecing together the pre-production schedule,” says Sandip Ray, son of the masterful filmmaker. In fact, Ray, his family, and the crew used to break for lunch at the same hour even amidst shooting.
The editing phase was immensely interesting and enriching. Scenes were sometimes shifted around and juxtaposed, and indifferent performances in a sequence would be trimmed. One could witness the entire film being sculpted. The famous film director had, in the initial years, edited his films in the New Theatres Studio, and later, after Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne, shifted to documentary filmmaker Shanti Chowdhury’s editing outfit at Lovelock Place (in South Calcutta). “Father had largely brought off his editing exercise in these two places,” says Sandip.
Sandip made a beginning as a production still photographer in his father’s films from Pratidwandi (The Adversary) in 1970. A limited stint in this role enlarged to a much bigger one in Seemabaddha (Company Limited). “Father was extremely gratified to view my Seemabaddha stills. He not only used some of them in the publicity materials, my name also appeared in the film’s titles as ‘still photographer’ for the first time. During father’s shootings, I was naturally present taking production stills. But five or six years later, he asked me to follow and imbibe the nitty gritty of post-production work. I not only enjoyed this phase tremendously, one picked up a lot about the crafting of a film,” Sandip stresses. And then Sandip was gradually inducted as an integral part of the crew, and moved around constantly with his father.
In time, the renowned director brought his son to confront a challenge. Dulal Dutta, Ray’s editor, was caught up with other movie involvements, Ray was in the middle of allied preoccupations. “This was when father was putting together his documentary, Bala, centering on the famous danseuse Bala Saraswati. Father asked me and his assistant director Ramesh Sen to sync the last Bharatnatyam dance sequence with the pictures. On learning this from father, both Punukaku [Punu Uncle, as Sandip always endearingly addressed Ramesh Sen] and I were a total wreck,” Sandip says with a chuckle. But by then, having familiarised himself with his legendary father’s post-production sessions, Sandip had picked up handling a Moviola (the editing machine). “With the Moviola in my control, we were not really at sea in matching the soundtrack with the visuals. However, we did spend a very long while to pull it off,” he confesses.
Interestingly, around 1978-79, after the completion of Hirak Rajar Deshe (The Kingdom of Diamonds), Ray roped in his son to perform another function which Sandip had no experience of earlier. Many are aware that Ray was what they call a one-stop-shop when it came to filmmaking, from drafting the screenplay, directorial functions, set-designing, camerawork, to editing and designing the posters. During Hirak Rajar Deshe, he had, as always, contacted the designer who usually executed the letterwork of the publicity material. But on this occasion, this concerned individual failed to turn up. In turn, therefore, Ray asked Sandip to compose the letterwork. Satisfied with his son’s output, he went on to rope Sandip in to bring to life the entire finished artwork.
“Father told me that he would do the basic publicity design, and asked me to complete the total artwork. All I had at my disposal was a thumbnail picture, which father handed to me, of what the artwork in entirety should look like. Those were days when one couldn’t fall back on computers and information technology. Everything had to be done manually, and on a 30 by 40 inches sheet of paper. Father egged me on to continue with that department of post-production work from Hirak Rajar Deshe. Having been already interested in graphics, I found this function to be very engaging. It was also very exciting to go through the process of the posters being printed and finally displayed on the streets in the run-up to a movie’s release,” exudes Sandip. This was not only yet another feather in Sandip’s cap, but a further cementing of the father-and-son bonding.
He goes on to add that once a film was edited on the Moviola, the ‘rough cut’ was screened at the Film Services theatre in Tollygunge (south Calcutta) for a final evaluation. Here, according to Sandip, his father would carry a cassette recorder and speak into it, as the film unfolded on the screen, about portions which required to be finetuned further. “One couldn’t possibly take notes in a dark theatre. So father found this method as a suitable alternative. In turn, father would go back to the Moviola for a final edited version. I profited from this experience hugely as it honed my knowledge of filmmaking,” he expresses. “In fact, father would quite often explain to me the reasons for trimming a scene or sequence or even deleting a scene. One regrets now that if the deleted scenes could be preserved in some way, I could have mulled crafting something cinematic based on them,” Sandip expresses. That indeed would be tremendously absorbing because these discarded celluloid stretches of the master’s films would have been unknown to the world.
Sandip goes on to drive home that editing invariably turned out to be "an interactive session." “While father was extremely charged during shooting, he was more relaxed while editing. Editing, those days, was a painstaking process. When Dulal Uncle, who assisted father in editing, went about piecing together a portion of a film which had been edited, father would interact with me, and one or two members of his crew who were present,” says Sandip.
He goes on to add that his masterly father would write down the title of a novel or short story he would pen later. These cerebral flights of multifaceted creativity would also be juxtaposed with jotting down the notation of a stretch of tune which may have crossed his mind. This small strain would later form part of the enlarged musical score of the movie he was editing. “Watching father editing was where I learnt to be ruthless in doing away with flab in a film, and moulding it into a more compact creation. That, in essence, encapsulates his economy of dialogue writing, and the tightness and preciseness in the length of his films. Many in the film industry need to acquire this lesson even now. I feel father assimilated this approach from his years of viewing numerous Hollywood films,” underlines Sandip.
He goes on to expand that even while sharing thoughts with his son while editing a film, his father did not always spell out the nitty-gritty threadbare to Sandip. “While watching him go about switching scenes or dropping some of them, the sense of it also sank into me in a natural way. Sometimes, these changes or leaving out of shots transformed the format of a screenplay dramatically.
If a film is shot with efficiency, editing can play a critical role in bringing off ingenious alterations, which could end up in triggering a completely different cinematic effect. I assimilated this understanding entirely from my father."
The presence of such a consummate genius as one’s father in the house, who was involved in an array of creative pursuits and working on unflaggingly in his study day in day out, must have also had a huge impact on Sandip. Besides, virtually the world walked in and out of the Ray household, which included an unending stream of celebrities and famous personalities.
“Yes, that’s totally true, undoubtedly. I could perceive from my youth that our family and home were different from most others. There were renowned movie directors like Elia Kazan, Lindsay Anderson and Louis Malle, to mention some, dropping by at our home to meet father. In step, we would travel overseas at intervals. For instance, on our trip to Berlin in 1963 when Mahanagar (The Big City) was screened at the Berlin Film Festival, I had the unique experience of witnessing celebrated Hollywood actors like Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger walking up to father and conversing with him. In those days, we were familiar with these faces from Hollywood magazines and movies. American film journals ruled the roost in that era, more than British publications,with the exception of Sight and Sound and Films and Filming. Father also wrote for the British magazine, Sequence, at one time. So watching him chatting up with these famous Hollywood actors was an indescribable moment in my life,” says Sandip emotively.
The next time Sandip visited Berlin with his father was when Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne was unfurled at the German fest. “We found Carlos Saura and Geraldine Chaplin pass by at the venue. I deeply regret now not having interfaced with them. A Carlos Saura film was being shown at the festival. It still makes me ponder with remorse that I had not got to meet Charlie Chaplin’s daughter,” exclaims Sandip. “I could have tried striking up a conversation with her had I been older,” he rues.
Sandip goes about narrating experiences akin to the one in Berlin. It happened that almost every time Ray journeyed to a movie hub as chairman of a jury, he would take Sandip along with him, if possible. Thus, it transpired that when the great director was jury chairman at an international film festival in Delhi in the early '70s, Sandip had accompanied his father when the fest unfolded. Sandip, then at the turn of his teenage years, still finds that festival embedded in his mind.
“That stay with father is quite unforgettable. The hotel where we were put up was teeming with celebrated film personalities. When I was going up to our hotel room on one of these days, the elevator door opened and there standing before me was Akira Kurosawa, the director of Seven Samurai and Rashomon amongst other classics. He was extremely mild-mannered. I still remember Gina Lollobrigida sporting a black leather jacket, a camera in her hand, strutting down the hotel corridor or Michaelangelo Antonioni and Carlos Saura sitting in the lobby. It is impossible to believe today that I had sat beside father together with internationally renowned film directors such as Frank Capra and Nagisa Oshima watching a movie in the Films Division auditorium. It doesn’t normally happen in a young adult’s life. Before the climactic sequence of the film, I clearly recall Frank Capra exclaiming: 'Hang on to your hats. Here comes the big scene.' A jaw-dropping experience, indeed,” recalls Sandip vividly.
But was he not also in the shadow of a father who was (and continues to remain) an all-time-great filmmaker, I pose to Sandip. “Yes, I can’t but agree,” pat comes Sandip’s endorsement.
Ashoke Nag is a veteran art and culture writer with special interest in legendary filmmaker Satyajit Ray.
All images by Satyajit Ray Archives.
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