Blame it on UR Ananthamurthy (URA) for writing such a marvelous book that making a movie of it, even with the stellar team led by the immensely talented Girish Karnad, is no mean task.
The movie script stays mostly true to the novella, though it glosses over a couple of interesting situations, but that's not it's biggest failing. The depth of emotions, the subtleties of (brahminical) traditions, the helpless pathos of Praneshacharya and finally his resignation to existential angst are barely captured. The casting is ok, but misses the mark on a few instances. The music is ok, given the times when the movie was made, but anyone re-imagining the movie in the age of computers would expect the music to contribute in a huge way to fill in the gaps mentioned earlier.
That said, it must have been a Himalayan task to make the movie in this first place ! And given the socio-cultural mores it addresses, one can barely begin to understand the commitment of the people behind this venture ! Hats off to them !
However, while one can objectively look at the work in question and critique it, let's also be cognizant of the fact that a large number of viewers of the movie can barely connect with the story (that's true for readers of the novella as well, though I suspect more viewers sense the disconnect than the readers). In fact, given the deep rooted traditional setting of the story, and one that few people can ever relate to, one needs a precursor to appreciate any of this. Instead of continuing with general statements, let me illustrate this with an example and rest my case.
Praneshacharya runs out of his house when his wife dies. Girish Karnad (playing Praneshacharya) tries his best to depict the emotions that drive him out of the house, screaming "Chandri Chandri"..but the novella has a far more detailed explanation of this. The village is reeling under plague. Dead rats and the unbearable stink, abound. The frail, perennially sick and honestly nauseating body of his wife is finally rendered lifeless. Contrast this with the description of aesthetic and sensual beauty that are contained in Kalidasa's work, which Praneshacharya, a scholar, has been reading, reciting and educating people -- with no expectations to see or experience any of this in his own (celibate) life -- so far. One fateful night with Chandri and things are changed forever !
His running out of the house on his wife's death is in sheer disgust, in his first ever experience of hatred and resentment, his first ever experience of nausea kindled by an experiential moment of sensous joy that he knew of, but only theoretically. And one, his bete-noire Narayana personified. Praneshacharya doesn't merely run out of his house - he practically runs out of his (erstwhile virtuous/celibate/theological) life and embraces the depraved (?) life of Narayana whom he so much despised.
Alas, when you see the movie, this is not the mental image that stays behind.
Given the rich layers of meaning that only URA could pack so densely (Samskara is barely 130 pages long, but is the most dense story I have read), one feels that there needs to be a precursor or a "readme_first" for the benefit of the non-south-indian-brahmin readers. Otherwise, a tonne of meaning will be lost - be it the choice of the names Praneshacharya or Bhagirathi, the name of the town, the pun in Samskara, the madhwa-smartha quarrels....URA was a veritable genius !
The movie script stays mostly true to the novella, though it glosses over a couple of interesting situations, but that's not it's biggest failing. The depth of emotions, the subtleties of (brahminical) traditions, the helpless pathos of Praneshacharya and finally his resignation to existential angst are barely captured. The casting is ok, but misses the mark on a few instances. The music is ok, given the times when the movie was made, but anyone re-imagining the movie in the age of computers would expect the music to contribute in a huge way to fill in the gaps mentioned earlier.
That said, it must have been a Himalayan task to make the movie in this first place ! And given the socio-cultural mores it addresses, one can barely begin to understand the commitment of the people behind this venture ! Hats off to them !
However, while one can objectively look at the work in question and critique it, let's also be cognizant of the fact that a large number of viewers of the movie can barely connect with the story (that's true for readers of the novella as well, though I suspect more viewers sense the disconnect than the readers). In fact, given the deep rooted traditional setting of the story, and one that few people can ever relate to, one needs a precursor to appreciate any of this. Instead of continuing with general statements, let me illustrate this with an example and rest my case.
Praneshacharya runs out of his house when his wife dies. Girish Karnad (playing Praneshacharya) tries his best to depict the emotions that drive him out of the house, screaming "Chandri Chandri"..but the novella has a far more detailed explanation of this. The village is reeling under plague. Dead rats and the unbearable stink, abound. The frail, perennially sick and honestly nauseating body of his wife is finally rendered lifeless. Contrast this with the description of aesthetic and sensual beauty that are contained in Kalidasa's work, which Praneshacharya, a scholar, has been reading, reciting and educating people -- with no expectations to see or experience any of this in his own (celibate) life -- so far. One fateful night with Chandri and things are changed forever !
His running out of the house on his wife's death is in sheer disgust, in his first ever experience of hatred and resentment, his first ever experience of nausea kindled by an experiential moment of sensous joy that he knew of, but only theoretically. And one, his bete-noire Narayana personified. Praneshacharya doesn't merely run out of his house - he practically runs out of his (erstwhile virtuous/celibate/theological) life and embraces the depraved (?) life of Narayana whom he so much despised.
Alas, when you see the movie, this is not the mental image that stays behind.
Given the rich layers of meaning that only URA could pack so densely (Samskara is barely 130 pages long, but is the most dense story I have read), one feels that there needs to be a precursor or a "readme_first" for the benefit of the non-south-indian-brahmin readers. Otherwise, a tonne of meaning will be lost - be it the choice of the names Praneshacharya or Bhagirathi, the name of the town, the pun in Samskara, the madhwa-smartha quarrels....URA was a veritable genius !
