The Lonely Wife

Nestled in an imposing residence quietly adrift along literary shores, a humble wife beseechingly awaits the anxious return of her daring husband.

He's exceedingly disposed to constant work and distracted attention, his habitual return inexhaustibly encouraging thoughts of duty and custom and privilege. 

A life of the mind imaginatively begets a fluid multifaceted dynamism, gently overflowing with tempestuous whimsy adamantly delineating mutated reverie.

A playful cousin less prone to diligence mischievously arrives to help run the paper, and is soon secretively and aloofly tasked with finding ways to eclipse the tedium.

Epic discussions temperately clad munificently hale cerebral senses, uncertain abilities actively invested with novel synergy and declaration. 

Both interlocutors timidly convinced they could one day publish their bold material, creative acts of embowered fertility interactively sew once barren plains.

The compelling dialogues swiftly improvised offer more than comments on l'écriture, the unforeseen discovery of a kindred spirit mellifluously manifesting infatuation.

Her sure and steady distant husband unaware of the nimble blossom.

Which emerges unrequited. 

For the bland despondent eternal dawn.

Exciting to see a thoughtful film which eagerly concerns itself with writing, from conception to publication to reception various stages un/resolved.

Rare to see universal expenditure vehemently crafting books and poems, extended insights into vast repositories of distinct discerning alternative accents.

Wholeheartedly enriched much more encompassing than a brief and limited character count, less enamoured with glib encapsulation and more akin to multilayered exhibition.

The liberal editor is distressingly bewildered when his trusted assistant suddenly robs him, and he discovers his wife's shocking desire for someone else who leaves for another.

For the new country, the post-colonial birth, which he has tirelessly been cultivating, he soldiers on with open-minded comprehension of stoic trust and humanistic confidence.

A feverish account of idle dreams.

Lost and scouring the refined wilderness.

Emboldened feeling exotically dismayed.

Sly temptation lithe and blaring. 

Jalsaghar (The Music Room)

Traditional techno prestigious glamour entrenched nobility inalienable birthright, delicately maintaining vast ancient customs once thoroughly sought to uphold righteous honour.

The royal in question elaborately ensconced within his palatial discreet colossus, known for entertaining and leisure and horseplay as were his forefathers so much of his kin.

But times change, new ideas and philosophies begin to prosper throughout the land, and new markets new ways to earn money latently tempt inherent ambitions.

As the economy undergoes transformation and the nouveau riche seek respect and authority, the ocean encroaches upon his old lands and leaves him with no means to take in revenue.

Dispiritingly, his wife and only son travel by water to rendez-vous with her family, tragically suffering a moribund fate when caught in a hurricane on their way home.

Left with no rightful heir and too uptight and proud to start over again, he settles into a depressed routine which sees no income or family or friend.

The world erupting in kitschy novelty borderline insouciant bewitching pandemonium. 

He embraces the passing of the years.

Rarely emerging from his elegant den.

There must be an arthouse tradition imaginatively awaiting curious enthusiasts, who aren't as interested in Bollywood's sensation but still directly crave tactile Indian genius. 

Jalsaghar (The Music Room) seductively showcasing the despondent struggle of a political system, as those who can't adapt to the newfound democracy suffer in silence while their wealth slowly fades.

But more than that, if ever there was a relevant film to challenge boredom and decay, Satyajit Ray's cataclysmic masterpiece indirectly applauds diversification.

The industrious Dutch have held back the sea for such a long time their techniques transmissible, had the aging royal simply adopted them he may have kept his people on the land.

Perhaps due to obsessive bearings he never became aware of such maritime difference, but had he focused intently on generating an income, and hired innovative people accordingly, he likely would have continued to profit from his holdings, and never would have had to sell his sacred possessions.

Thus, beware the sedentary life should you find yourself enamoured with rest and relaxation.

As the saying goes, don't rest on your laurels.

Notably if so many rely on your industry.

Pather Panchali

A loving mother wants the best for her children but is desperately obsessed with her remorseless poverty, her dreamer husband slow to provide or clearly understand her protracted woe.

There's no thought of her working herself or finding a way to help make ends meet, the ancient code governing village life definitively maintaining strict gender roles.

Her children enjoy playing in the countryside and modestly excel through recourse to laughter, education not prominent in that part of the country, the children relying on friends and family.

But they're also jealous of their friend's possessions especially when the sweet purveyor walks by, at times leading to their mother's embarrassment as they naturally seek the good things in life.

I really felt for their mom as she despondently waits for her husband to get paid, and he dreams and he dreams and he dreams while his house falls apart and there's nothing to eat.

It's ok to sit back and dream but it's much more convenient when your wife also works, and isn't stuck sitting at home all day with nothing to do while her neighbours deride her.

Could you imagine having no recourse and having to wait months to have money to spend, while your children ran wild in the jungle and the neighbourhood lampooned your lack of wealth?

Open up the inclusive workforce and maximize opportunity for everyone willing.

Her husband's no doubt a cool guy.

But fails to empathize with her situation.

Pather Panchali isn't all doom and gloom it's also full of innocent pluck and tenacity, complete with multiple extended scenes celebrating the joys of childhood and playtime.

I would recommend leaving Disney behind for a weekend and giving this film a try, along with El espíritu de la colmena (The Spirit of the Beehive), El Sur, and E.T, that would make for an exceptional film day.

Dickens also seems to be creatively influencing the compassionate film and perhaps Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay's novel, the close focus on delicious food for instance (it's fun to pig out after he describes food), or the inclusion of chill and offbeat characters like Auntie (who reminded me of Mr. Dick in David Copperfield).

Its moderate pace also captures village life as it gradually progresses from season to season.

Moments like how cool it is when you see your first train.

An intense sudden rainfall. 

An improvised chase.

*Criterion keyword - resplendent.