RAINCOAT is a very different kind of cinema. Although it is loosely based upon O'Henry's The Gift of the Magi, the dissimilarities are more striking than the similarities. I would like to call it an original idea, and not a screenplay adapted from an existing text.
Before I saw Raincoat I had seen only two of Rituparno Ghosh's movies. One was UTSAB and the second CHOKHER BALI. The problem with Ghosh is that he was under a very heavy influence of Satyajit Ray; I guess it is very difficult not to be influenced by HIM. Utsab was stylized by SHAKHA PROSHAKHA, and Chokher Bali By GHARE BAIRE. Both the Ray movies are among his great works, although nowhere near the Apu trilogy and the earlier B&W work. I have not seen UNISHE APRIL, which, I believe, is very good. But then, I think, the credit probably will go to Aparna Sen for that, as I understand she is outstanding in the film. As a matter of fact, Aparna Sen is one Bengali film maker who understood Ray the most, and consciously avoided falling into a mimetic trap. Her films have no Ray stamp on them and yet they are as artistic and humane as any Ray film. Among the contemporary film makers, Aparna Sen is probably the only one who can be counted as an original with her solid body of work.
Coming to RAINCOAT, Ghosh has made a conscious departure from Ray and created a film totally his own. In this he has been aided by a wonderful script, and two outstanding performances by the lead pair. His cameraman has captured the bleakness of a monsoon day in Rai's apartment, and you can almost feel and smell the musty dampness of the room. The lighting is amazing, and like Ashoka Mehta's camera-work in 36, Chowranghee Lane, explores the dark corners of Rai's home, thereby laying bare her soul. Yet the movie is not all gloom. Through dialog, you are kept involved in the pathetic make-believe world of the two protagonists (I will not call them lovers). Manoj may have a feeble right to be called a jilted lover, but Neerja never really loved him. She was always looking for a meal ticket and settled for the first eligible candidate without even a cursory glance backwards. Her pride does not permit her to accept that she had made a bad choice and the game of one-oneupmanship is still very much on with her. It is only when she says that her name consists of six letters and could have been used for naming his company, that she allows you to glimpse a sense of remorse. The fact that Rajnee is an anagram of Neerja, enhances this sense of loss and pathos. Yet, you do not feel sorry for her. She made a very deliberate choice and no amount of sacrifice on her part will endear her to the audience. Manoj's sacrifice, therefore, is more laudable, considering that his future is absolutely hopeless, and that he will have to start from all over again. He has also undertaken to find a solution to her problem after three months.. His ordeal seems to have just begun, and we don't know how it is going to end.
The other aspects of the film are flawless. The cameo performances of Annu Kapoor and Mouli Ganguly are brilliant. The title song by Shubha Mudgal is perfect in theme and rendition. Gulzar's verses exploring the dark corners of Rai's room are almost Ghalibian and beautifully appropriate. There is not a single superfluous scene or dialog in the film. No footage is wasted and not one word is meaningless. The undercurrent of the story is one of loss and pathos, yet one can appreciate the irony of the situation, and it becomes almost comic as the two play their game of one-oneupmanship. This is cinema at its best and like a Greek tragedy it has a sense of catharsis through the lines spoken by Mouli Ganguly.
The Raincoat eventually becomes a symbol for the masks we wear in order to hide our insecurities, our disappointments, and our egotistical selves. The raincoat worn by a domestic help has to be perfumed before it can be loaned to a middle-class out-of-work friend. The same raincoat carries in its pocket the letter revealing the true state of Manoj's affairs, and finally, the jewelery that Neerja thinks will help Manoj in his endeavor.
Before I saw Raincoat I had seen only two of Rituparno Ghosh's movies. One was UTSAB and the second CHOKHER BALI. The problem with Ghosh is that he was under a very heavy influence of Satyajit Ray; I guess it is very difficult not to be influenced by HIM. Utsab was stylized by SHAKHA PROSHAKHA, and Chokher Bali By GHARE BAIRE. Both the Ray movies are among his great works, although nowhere near the Apu trilogy and the earlier B&W work. I have not seen UNISHE APRIL, which, I believe, is very good. But then, I think, the credit probably will go to Aparna Sen for that, as I understand she is outstanding in the film. As a matter of fact, Aparna Sen is one Bengali film maker who understood Ray the most, and consciously avoided falling into a mimetic trap. Her films have no Ray stamp on them and yet they are as artistic and humane as any Ray film. Among the contemporary film makers, Aparna Sen is probably the only one who can be counted as an original with her solid body of work.
Coming to RAINCOAT, Ghosh has made a conscious departure from Ray and created a film totally his own. In this he has been aided by a wonderful script, and two outstanding performances by the lead pair. His cameraman has captured the bleakness of a monsoon day in Rai's apartment, and you can almost feel and smell the musty dampness of the room. The lighting is amazing, and like Ashoka Mehta's camera-work in 36, Chowranghee Lane, explores the dark corners of Rai's home, thereby laying bare her soul. Yet the movie is not all gloom. Through dialog, you are kept involved in the pathetic make-believe world of the two protagonists (I will not call them lovers). Manoj may have a feeble right to be called a jilted lover, but Neerja never really loved him. She was always looking for a meal ticket and settled for the first eligible candidate without even a cursory glance backwards. Her pride does not permit her to accept that she had made a bad choice and the game of one-oneupmanship is still very much on with her. It is only when she says that her name consists of six letters and could have been used for naming his company, that she allows you to glimpse a sense of remorse. The fact that Rajnee is an anagram of Neerja, enhances this sense of loss and pathos. Yet, you do not feel sorry for her. She made a very deliberate choice and no amount of sacrifice on her part will endear her to the audience. Manoj's sacrifice, therefore, is more laudable, considering that his future is absolutely hopeless, and that he will have to start from all over again. He has also undertaken to find a solution to her problem after three months.. His ordeal seems to have just begun, and we don't know how it is going to end.
The other aspects of the film are flawless. The cameo performances of Annu Kapoor and Mouli Ganguly are brilliant. The title song by Shubha Mudgal is perfect in theme and rendition. Gulzar's verses exploring the dark corners of Rai's room are almost Ghalibian and beautifully appropriate. There is not a single superfluous scene or dialog in the film. No footage is wasted and not one word is meaningless. The undercurrent of the story is one of loss and pathos, yet one can appreciate the irony of the situation, and it becomes almost comic as the two play their game of one-oneupmanship. This is cinema at its best and like a Greek tragedy it has a sense of catharsis through the lines spoken by Mouli Ganguly.
The Raincoat eventually becomes a symbol for the masks we wear in order to hide our insecurities, our disappointments, and our egotistical selves. The raincoat worn by a domestic help has to be perfumed before it can be loaned to a middle-class out-of-work friend. The same raincoat carries in its pocket the letter revealing the true state of Manoj's affairs, and finally, the jewelery that Neerja thinks will help Manoj in his endeavor.