Agantuk (1991)
Directed by Satyajit Ray

Film Review

Agantuk (a.k.a. The Stranger) was the last film to be made by the legendary Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray, a modest but compelling work that easily ranks alongside his previous masterpieces.  It is a film that provides a fitting conclusion to Ray's oeuvre, as it picks up and develops many of the themes that Ray touched on in earlier films, most notably the loss of cultural identity in an increasingly materialistic world.  Richly Chekhovian in both its minimalist style and piercing perception of human nature, Agantuk is a remarkably astute morality tale that invites us to contemplate what civilisation really is - is a developed nation that permits mass homelessness and has the capability to obliterate others at the touch of a button more civilised than one whose people still live in mud huts?

A Franco-Indian production, Agantuk was partly financed by various French film companies including Canal+ and Gérard Depardieu's company DD Productions.  Depardieu's involvement seems fitting as the film's central plot idea (a stranger returning to his home after many years, unable to convince others of his identity) bears more than a passing resemblance to that of Le Retour de Martin Guerre (1982), a film in which the iconic French actor previously starred.  The French connection in this last film serves to complete the circle, since Ray first learned his art by watching Jean Renoir as he filmed The River (1951).  Renoir was the European filmmaker who had most influence on Ray, something that is particularly evident in his early films Pather Panchali (1955) and Aparajito (1956).

As ever, Ray's casting choices are impeccable and more than do justice to his insightful screenplay.  Mamata Shankar and Dipankar Dey effectively convey the conflict of the couple who cannot decide what to make of the stranger - throughout the film you feel that they instinctively want to trust him, but their bourgeois materialism prevents them from doing so. Their good fortune has not made them generous to others; it has merely made them more determined to hold onto the riches that Providence has cast at their feet. Utpal Dutt's Manomohan (a.k.a. Nemo, or the Man With No Name) appears to be the exact opposite of the self-interested Boses, a man who has no roots, few possessions, and who uses money only so that he can travel and widen his understanding of humanity.  No wonder the Boses are suspicious of him: he represents all that is alien to them, even dismissing the hideous caste system on which Indian society is solidly based.

Dutt's mesmeric performance lends Manomohan a mystique and authority that makes him the moral focus of the film, against which the petty materialistic concerns of the Boses are exposed and ruthlessly dissected.  It is easy to see why Manomohan manages to enchant the children he encounters; they have yet to have their minds closed off and soiled by greed and self-interest.  They see him for what he is, a wise old man with an enquiring mind and a lust for learning, not material possessions.  Unable to see things through a child's eyes, blinded to true goodness by their middleclass meannness, the Bose couple can only question Manomohan's motives and sincerity.  The moment of revelation comes too late for them - having subjected Manomohan to a series of interrogations worthy of the Gestapo, they discover the truth only after the stranger has left them for good, leaving them with the soundest proof of his integrity.

Through the conflict between the Boses and their mysterious visitor, Satyajit Ray renders an effective modern parable on the destructive influence of materialism, showing how wealth diminishes not only our moral faculties but also our ability to perceive true goodness when we encounter it.  Wealth does not make us better, neither as a society nor as individuals; it merely accentuates the rifts that divide us and makes us meaner, both in spirit and in deed.  In his final film, Ray questions the civilising effect of western-style materialism and seems to conclude that the way forward lies not with science and technology, but with a greater awareness of our cultural past.  By understanding where we come from, we may have a better chance to discover who we really are and how we may guide humanity towards a better, nobler future.

Film Synopsis

Anila Bose lives in Calcutta with her husband Sudhindra and their young son Satyaki.  The family is comfortably off and live in a grand house which they have inherited.  One day, Anila receives a letter that purports to come from her estranged uncle Manomohan Mitra, who left India 35 years ago and has spent most of his life travelling the world.  Manomohan asks that he may be allowed to spend a few days with his niece and her family before he resumes his travels.  Sudhindra is immediately suspicious and warns his wife that the letter writer may be an impostor who intends to rob them.  When Manomohan turns up a few days later, Anila treats him courteously but begins to share her husband's doubts.  The only person who believes the stranger is who he claims to be is Anila's son, who takes an instant liking to him.   Then Anila remembers her grandfather's will and becomes convinced that the stranger is after her uncle's inheritance...