the river

it started flurrying yesterday but it was warm and the flurries melted before any accumulation. i can now see the house across from the yard from my kitchen window, now that the ash and walnuts have dropped their leaves. there are still a few trees with golden yellow leaves remaining in the lower branches, mostly maples, but it is a matter of time (wind, actually).

vinu and i watched jean renoir's le fleuve (the river) today. a lot of directors ascribe formative influences to this documentary like adaptation of rumer godden's novel. today, it seems ordinary and the dialogues especially by the indian characters a bit stilted and school-dramaish. i can see it making an extraordinary impression on a westerner in 1951. for one, it was the first colour film to be shot in india and renoir's first colour film as well and it does a lot of justice to it. the story is about the coming of age of harriet (the narrator) in india, where she lives with her 4 sisters and brother, parents and an indian nanny (nan) in a village by the ganges, her father being the owner of a jute mill. she is immediately infatuated (in an awkward way that only a teenager can) with capt. john, an american war veteran who is visiting his cousin an englishman who lives next door to harriet. equally smitten but in a more composed, obvious manner is valerie, the more beautiful, older redhead although there doesn't seem to be any tension between harriet and her because of this. adding to the confusion is melanie her neighbour's daughter from his marriage to a local woman. her feelings for jack are characteristically indian- unexpressed and confused. there is one lovely scene where they are all chasing him in a banana grove like gopis chasing krishna (and valerie is the lucky one to be kissed). as the movie progresses, love cools, harriet's brother gets bitten by a cobra and dies, capt. john returns back to the us, another baby sister is born, life continues, the river flows.

the narrative structure is like a documentary and the portrayal of india is a bit romantic but there is no trace of condescension or colonialism in the treatment of india. sometimes, there is overt emphasis of the mysterious, peaceful life of the hindoo on the riverbank but it is no different from the feelings i have when i visit a quiet village today in india. it seems like an idyll. and there are no elephants, tigers or bengal lancers as renoir says in an interview. the music is a mix of hindustani sitar and carnatic veena and vocal with a bharatanatyam tillana sequence thrown in but it does not seem jarring or artificial at any point. in fact, if anything flows smoothly besides the river, it is the music.