Satyajit Ray: Devi (1960)

Devi (The Godess), 1960
movie poster
(source: Brown Town)
no copyright infringement intended

You can watch the movie here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CouZ1SVc8Ik

Devi (The Goddess), made by Satyajit Ray in 1960. It was his fourth movie, following the Apu Trilogy.

Apu Trilogy is about Cosmos and History, and Devi continues on the same theme, bringing however an astonishing new dimension.

You say Cosmos above History, Eternity above Past, Present and Future, then you say Religion. Well, Devi can be considered anti-religious, even blasphemy. Or is it profoundly religious? It's maybe also the case of the movies of Lars von Trier, or Scorsese's Last Temptation of Christ: if they are religious it's not for the weak ones.

The story in Devi unfurls in an aristocratic Bengali family sometime in the first half of the 1800's: an old widower and his two married sons. The father is a very powerful landlord and his authority is unquestionable. One of the sons leaves the place for a short time, to pass an exam in Calcutta. During his absence, the old father has a dream in which Goddess Kali appears with the face of Doya, the young wife of the absent son. As the father is a profound believer he starts to consider his young daughter-in-law as a reincarnation of Kali. Nobody dares to oppose him, and when the son comes back he finds his wife venerated by everybody, sitting in an altar and target of endless devotional prayers. An air of madness is floating freely, and the husband doesn't know any more what his wife really thinks. Actually she doesn't know either. A small boy came back to life miraculously in her presence, so it can be something. Her common sense would rather turn her away from all this stuff, but she is scared: what if she really is the reincarnation of Kali? Then, listening to her common sense (and to what her husband says) would be sacrilege.

The events are spiraling out of control more and more. In the end a boy dies in her hands; it is her beloved nephew, the grandson of the old landlord, who is now desperate: he had adored Kali all his life, why did she punish him so cruelly? And Doya, got mad by all this, will disappear forever.

I thought a bit about some unconscious erotic desire, unfurled in paroxystic religious behavior. Let's see what one of the movie commentators (mazumdar) has to say:

Is there some sexual tension behind this astonishing behavior? It's always possible. But don't be misled; this film is not in any way about sex or perversity. All the outward manifestations of affection are very proper and correct in a Bengali context. (A foot massage given by a young wife to her father-in-law is not considered an erotic act, rather a dutiful one.) This film is about the nature of devotion and duty. The father's level of devotion becomes dangerous to everyone in the household -- for Doya, for her husband Uma, and for Uma's elder brother Tara and his wife Hara and their child. Uma doesn't agree with his father, Tara probably doesn't, Doya probably don't either. But what can be done? The father's devotion is perfectly logical in the context of tradition. How can Uma speak against it? It will take courage. But courage to do what, destroy his own father? There is a complex web of duties involved. How will Uma do his duty to his father? his wife? Has the childless Doya failed in her duties to her husband? How will Hara do her duty to her father-in-law as well as to her husband and to her young son? All these questions are implied. As usual, director Satyajit Ray applies a subtle hand -- given an extraordinary situation, what would you really do? How would you really behave? To westerners, Uma's shy reaction to his father's actions may be unbelievable. This is perhaps a difference in place in time. Put yourself in his shoes -- devotion must be respected and duty must be done.

Sharmila Tagore in 2000 about the role of Doya that she played in 1960 (quoted by Edi_Drums):

I was only fourteen when I acted in Devi, so we did the filming during my summer holidays. Sometimes the lighting took a long time to set up, and dealing with the physical tiredness of sitting still, I found myself fitting into the character. I became the character. The key to that kind of performance is not to think: it is to suspend thought, and just to be. I had to empty my mind of everything and just allow Doya to take over. She is not a thinking person, but a feeling person. It is all filmed in close-ups, so the face begins to haunt the viewer.

Something once happened on set when we were filming in a studio in Calcutta. In a scene where the girl is sitting there, everybody worshiping her as Devi, a very old man came and prostrated himself before me. It was such a strange, eerie experience. I immediately understood how Doya must be feeling.

To accept it all as real(istic) you have to understand nineteenth century Bengal. Patriarchy was paramount. Orthodoxy and superstition were also very deeply entrenched. At the same time though, rationalism was just beginning to raise its head, but it was too timid to confront the strong orthodoxy: the father was the head of the family. Nobody could question him. (Please your father and you please the gods, remarks the brother in law.)

All Ray's films are culturally specific, and yet they have a timeless quality. You can watch Devi in any era and relate to it, depending on your own experience and your own evolution. I watch the film now and still see things I missed then.

Then, how can we decipher Devi: a violently anti-religious movie created by a man that considered always Cosmos above History?

First of all, Cosmos and Godhead are not necessarily equivalent. The fact that Cosmos is above History does not imply the presence there of Gods. They can be there; they can be not: it's beyond our control.

Then (and here I'll bring the authority of Paul Tillich), religion is a fact of culture, operating with an image of Godhead, as projected in that culture. When Nietzsche was shouting God is Dead, he was actually saying that a certain culture was dead. The same with St.Paul in his Epistle to the Romans: he was proclaiming the end of the culture of Old Testament, with all its rigors and traditions. Thus, Religion operates in History, while Godhead is above and beyond.

Thus a mortal cannot be a reincarnation of Kali for the simple fact that a mortal lives in History. If you forget it you don't reach Cosmos: instead you reach madness.

I have now other movies of Satyajit Ray to watch and to meditate on them. It seems to me that his Devi is not anti-religious; it is rather a story about our tragic condition: to remain chained by History even when we feel like Gods.

And then, there is also a splendid ambiguity in this movie: Ray does not actually speak very clear about his convictions and leaves the judgment for us. It is good to read again what Sharmila Tagore said about Devi: after all the key of the movie could be this one: what if she really is the reincarnation of Kali?


(Satyajit Ray)