In the film “Nayak”, the life and inner struggles of an immensely popular superstar come to the forefront on the course of a train journey.
What really goes on in the lives of the movie-stars and actors, the glamorous personalities we adore and ogle when the camera is not rolling and nobody is shouting ‘action’? How are these lives? Are they as wonderfully perfect and flawless as they are depicted on-screen? Or do they too, like the rest of us, have anxieties, dilemmas, betrayals and other such human emotions in their hearts? Well, Satyajit Ray’s ‘Nayak’ answers most of these questions. And by using an icon like Uttam Kumar himself to portray the role of an movie icon, Ray blurred the lines between reel and real, so much that one would, while watching the various scenes unfold and the deep lines being spoken, wonder whether they are viewing the life-story of Arindam Chatterjee or that of Uttam Kumar (whose real name was Arun Kumar Chatterjee). it was purely intentional on the part of the director to make the icon play this role, and what a marvellous job he did! Almost reaching the same zenith of perfection which the director himself achieves with his fine direction.
There are many different layers to the story, as there are to the character itself. At once strong, confident and powerful, at the same time gullible, naive and insecure. Practical, yet sentimental. Practical because he did choose his film acting over the stage and his mentor, Shankar da. Sentimental, because even after so many days since Shankar da died, he still had nightmares of him drowning in a quicksand of currency bills, desperately calling out Shankar da for help. “Shankar da, amake bachan Shankar da”
There could not have been a better symbolisation of the inner conflict and guilt that Arindam felt in his current situation, almost as if he was trapped in his own image of a superstar, an image which he cherished much, yet it was that very image and the fame and money associated with that image which was slowly engulfing him, killing him. Even more ironically, by calling out his mentor’s name at the moment of despair, he shows that he still views his earlier life with his mentor, when he was an unknown actor, as a sort of magical land of freedom, where he wanted to go now, even though he knew it was not possible any more. Such is the beauty of the character. Flawed, but exceptionally human.
The other character, of course, is that of the lady journalist. She is the opposite image altogether. Educated, confident and upright, she initially hits a rather rough note with Arindam, owing to her own reservations about filmstars and also partly due to the rumours which were flowing all around the train about a supposed brawl involving the actor about some married woman, made so deliciously scandalous by the paper that most of the passengers on the train wanted to know if any of it was true. She, nevertheless, triggers the self-realisation in Arindam. He starts telling her all his stories, the one about Shankar da, the one involving his long-time friend who had tried to take his help in boosting up his own political revolutionary movement. Arindam had earlier went to the extent of actively protesting just for the sake of his friend. But the star Arindam now refused. He had an image he had to keep, he could not be seen getting involved in such political movements. He had changed like everyone does. But what stands out is his own guilt and shame at the change.
Then there comes the story of the veteran actor with whom he had first worked on his first film. Somehow, his intimidating nature and seniority corked up Arindam. He had felt after the film was completed, that he could not give his best because of the intimidating nature of the veteran actor. He became critical of the very acting prowess of the old man, confidently proclaiming that he “will go to the top, the top, the top!”
The scandal is slowly revealed. He stands on the door of the railway compartment, looking intently at the tracks below, speeding away in the opposite direction. He looks on, for long, as all of a sudden the track changes, and the train moves forward on a completely new track, unknown, unfamiliar. Just imagine the depth of the symbolism and the imagery! He tells the journalist she can write anything she wants in her magazine he was extremely sceptical about that earlier, but now, drunk and shaken from the guilt and shame of self-realisation, he proclaims that he does not care. The journalist feels pity for him. He is no longer the glamorous, ever-so-perfect superstar that he was. He was a human, a flawed but repentant human. She feels sympathy for him. He feels a kind of respect for her. Yet, they end their story with the end of the train journey. They do not try to create a new story of their own. They move on their respective paths, keeping the memories of the train ride within their hearts. He walks into a crowd of reporters and fans at the station, she in the opposite direction. He puts up his black glasses over his eyes, again. The facade was back on, he was the glamorous, ever-so-flawless larger-than-life star again. And the viewer is left in sheer awe and admiration of the fantastic piece of cinematic genius that played in front of his eyes. Ray at his very artistic best. An experience, not just another film.
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