The Music RoomPride comes before the fall, and the higher your sense of entitlement, the harder the crash. Satyajit Ray's Jalsaghar--also called The Music Room--is the story of a rich land owner--a "zamindar"--named Huzur Biswambhar Roy (Chhabi Biswas), whose indulgent performances he hosts in his personal concert hall--his "music room"--have only escalated his family's deteriorating financial situation, opening the door for "new money" men like Mahim Ganguly (Gangapada Bose), who purchases the home near Roy. With his ignorance of his failing situation and his arrogance dictating his actions, tragedy is inevitable.
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Music is a favored component in Indian cinema; The Music Room boasts a few exceptional scenes of music and dance performed for Roy's benefit, and is in turn rich with an engaging musical score through much of the film. And yet as lovely as these scenes are--especially the thrilling kathak dance by Krishna Bai (Roshan Kumari)--each display is evidence that Roy is sinking ever deeper into the quagmire of his own financial ruin, as well as his indulging his arrogance to triumph in petty matters, like upstaging Ganguly. From the start of their interactions, Roy is acrimonious to Ganguly, coldly dictating terms of business for him to operate under in his dominion; Ganguly remains gracious enough at first, even kindly inviting Roy to his housewarming party. But Roy--frustrated by his own failing finances, and against his better judgment--throws a party on the same day as Ganguly's party out of spite, an event which ultimately leads to dire and terrible consequences. What Ganguly represents that is an affront to him is the encroachment of the modern age. Roy prefers classical music to fill his halls; conversely, the sounds of a brass band and electric machinery can be heard in the distance coming from Ganguly's homestead. Roy owns a horse--one he doesn't use--for transport, while Ganguly is driven around in his automobile. Roy is a stickler for tradition, whereas Ganguly has spent much of his time away making his fortune, and is even ignorant of some customs. But for all of Ganguly's gaucheness and inelegant behaviors, The Music Room is not a defense for tradition, but rather a cautionary tale against the ease in which men like Roy fall into stagnation, unwilling to change and willing to cut off their nose to spite their face. Roy has intentionally segregated himself from the world, a behavior all the more unsettling as he is supposed to be the landlord for the region, yet spends all his time playing with music. He spends his days laying around his pool, languidly smoking from his hookah, and is so removed from the world that he has to ask his servant, Ananta (Kali Sarkar), what season it is. His reclusive behavior resembles that of an anti-social tycoon who expects the world to come to him now, not unlike Charles Foster Kane in Citizen Kane. As Ganguly and his car begin to enter the focus of the story more and more, it becomes apparent that the lifestyle which tolerated the excesses of the nobility is fast becoming a thing of the past, the gentry of Roy and his bloodline running dry, not unlike the royalty of England around the same time. Even Roy's music room is adorned with the portraits of his fathers, but most interestingly, a giant-sized mirror in which he stares into to stoke his ego, satisfying his pride in his history, his affluence, and his passion for music all in one indulgent microcosm.
For all his laziness and arrogance, Roy's greatest crime is the one he pays the most dearly for. While his son, Khoka (Pinaki Sen Gupta) is fond of his father's love of music, Roy's wife, Mahamaya (Padma Devi), realizes that the excessive indulgence cannot continue for the sake of their family and the values Khoka will observe from his father. Roy is so content by the opulence surrounding him that he petulantly refuses to accompany his wife and son to visit his sickly father-in-law, more content to play with his sitar in peace, like a spoiled child who would rather play "Call of Duty" than visit his grandmother in the hospital. Roy ignores the gentle misgivings of his wife, convinced in his own perception of what is right for him and his family, and when he decides to host his party to spite Ganguly, he is forced to confront the high cost of his arrogance as his home comes apart on him. Following this event, Roy loses his passion for music, locking himself further away and confining himself to the upstairs over a period of approximately four years. When Ganguly comes to flaunt his increasing wealth to the now virtually penniless zamindar, Roy is presented with a test--in essence, to see if he is strong enough to resist the temptation to engage his successor of arrogance and musical appreciation in a kind of opulent duel. Roy is driven by his weakness, and opens the doors to his music room once more. As Roy surveils the room which once gave him so many happy memories, the camera gently sweeps across the carpets still littered with glasses filled with years-old wine, as the embedded recollections of past performances are conjured up on the musical score, driving Roy to his knees. The performances in the music room are beautiful, with great musicians delivering fantastic music. These scenes entreat us to be a part of this audience, the camera gently moving across the scene in the background, making us observers of the stage. Roy's final display of excess to indulge in his neurotic compulsion of nobility at any cost is a bittersweet triumph, as if going out in a blaze of glory. But the victory is hollow, leaving Roy empty, an event when over is one which was without purpose. The wretched husk, consumed by vanity and paranoia left behind, is reminiscent of the end of There Will Be Blood, where Daniel Plainview has been consigned to a prison of his own making, where only entropy can keep him company. The opening credits to The Music Room display the ornate and vibrant chandelier which lights the eponymous music room. It sways in darkness like a boat on a stormy sea, and dances alone in the inky blackness, alone and as if satisfied with itself, ignorant of the void surrounding it. That chandelier is the representation of Roy, a man whose time has run out and who has left himself without any alternatives to live his life.
Recommended for: Fans of a luscious and musical drama about pride and vanity and the great and terrible cost which comes when these subtle demons are not exorcised.
For all his laziness and arrogance, Roy's greatest crime is the one he pays the most dearly for. While his son, Khoka (Pinaki Sen Gupta) is fond of his father's love of music, Roy's wife, Mahamaya (Padma Devi), realizes that the excessive indulgence cannot continue for the sake of their family and the values Khoka will observe from his father. Roy is so content by the opulence surrounding him that he petulantly refuses to accompany his wife and son to visit his sickly father-in-law, more content to play with his sitar in peace, like a spoiled child who would rather play "Call of Duty" than visit his grandmother in the hospital. Roy ignores the gentle misgivings of his wife, convinced in his own perception of what is right for him and his family, and when he decides to host his party to spite Ganguly, he is forced to confront the high cost of his arrogance as his home comes apart on him. Following this event, Roy loses his passion for music, locking himself further away and confining himself to the upstairs over a period of approximately four years. When Ganguly comes to flaunt his increasing wealth to the now virtually penniless zamindar, Roy is presented with a test--in essence, to see if he is strong enough to resist the temptation to engage his successor of arrogance and musical appreciation in a kind of opulent duel. Roy is driven by his weakness, and opens the doors to his music room once more. As Roy surveils the room which once gave him so many happy memories, the camera gently sweeps across the carpets still littered with glasses filled with years-old wine, as the embedded recollections of past performances are conjured up on the musical score, driving Roy to his knees. The performances in the music room are beautiful, with great musicians delivering fantastic music. These scenes entreat us to be a part of this audience, the camera gently moving across the scene in the background, making us observers of the stage. Roy's final display of excess to indulge in his neurotic compulsion of nobility at any cost is a bittersweet triumph, as if going out in a blaze of glory. But the victory is hollow, leaving Roy empty, an event when over is one which was without purpose. The wretched husk, consumed by vanity and paranoia left behind, is reminiscent of the end of There Will Be Blood, where Daniel Plainview has been consigned to a prison of his own making, where only entropy can keep him company. The opening credits to The Music Room display the ornate and vibrant chandelier which lights the eponymous music room. It sways in darkness like a boat on a stormy sea, and dances alone in the inky blackness, alone and as if satisfied with itself, ignorant of the void surrounding it. That chandelier is the representation of Roy, a man whose time has run out and who has left himself without any alternatives to live his life.
Recommended for: Fans of a luscious and musical drama about pride and vanity and the great and terrible cost which comes when these subtle demons are not exorcised.