A film
review by Roger Ebert for rogerebert.com on Jan. 1, 1984.
Only connect! -- E.M. Forster
That is
the advice he gives us in Howards End,
and then, in A Passage to India, he
creates a world in which there are no connections, where Indians and Englishmen
speak the same language but do not understand each other, where it doesn't
matter what you say in the famous Marabar Caves, since all that comes back is a
hollow, mocking, echo. Forster's novel is one of the literary landmarks of this
century, and now David Lean has made
it into one of the greatest screen adaptations I have ever seen.
Great
novels do not usually translate well to the screen. They are too filled with
ambiguities, and movies have a way of making all their images seem like literal
fact. A Passage to India is
especially tricky, because the central event in the novel is something that
happens offstage, or never happens at all -- take your choice. On a hot, muggy
day, the eager Dr. Aziz (Victor Banerjee)
leads an expedition to the Marabar Caves. One by one, members of the party drop
out, until finally only Miss Adela Quested (Judy Davis), from England, is left. And so the Indian man and the
British woman climb the last path alone, at a time when England's rule of India
was based on an ingrained, semi-official racism, and some British, at least, nodded
approvingly at Kipling's East is East,
and West is West, and never the twain shall meet. In Forster's novel, it is
never clear exactly what it was that happened to Miss Quested after she wandered
alone into one of the caves.
David
Lean's film leaves that question equally open. But because he is dealing with a
visual medium, he cannot make it a mystery where Dr. Aziz is at the time; if
you are offstage in a novel, you can be anywhere, but if you are offstage in a
movie, you are definitely not where the camera is looking. So in the film
version we know, or think we know, that Dr. Aziz is innocent of the charges
later brought against him -- of the attempted rape of Miss Quested.
The
charges and the trial fill the second half of Lean's A Passage to India. Lean brings us to that point by a series of
perfectly modulated, quietly tension-filled scenes in which Miss Quested and
the kindly Mrs. Moore (Peggy Ashcroft)
sail to India, where Miss Quested is engaged to marry the priggish local
British magistrate (Nigel Havers)
who is also Mrs. Moore’s son, in a provincial backwater. Both women want to see
the real India -- a wish that is
either completely lacking among the locals, or is manfully repressed. Mrs.
Moore goes walking by a temple pool by moonlight, and meets the earnest young
Dr. Aziz, who is captivated by her gentle kindness. Miss Quested wanders by
accident into the ruins of another temple, populated by sensuous and erotic
statuary, tumbled together, overgrown by vegetation and populated by menacing
monkeys.
Miss
Quested's temple visit is not in Forster, but has been added by Lean (who wrote
his own screenplay). It accomplishes just what is needed, suggesting that in
Miss Quested the forces of sensuality and repression run a great deal more
deeply than her sexually constipated fiancé is ever likely to suspect.
Meanwhile,
we meet some of the other local characters, including Dr. Godbole (Alec Guinness), who meets every crisis
with perfect equanimity, and who believes that what will be, will be. This
philosophy sounds like recycled fortune cookies but turns out, in the end, to
have been the simple truth. We also meet Richard Fielding (James Fox), one of those tall, lonely middle-aged Englishmen who
hang about the edges of stories set in the Empire, waiting until their destiny
commands them to take a firm stand.
Lean
places these characters in one of the most beautiful canvases he has ever drawn
(and this is the man who directed Bridge
on the River Kwai, Doctor Zhivago, Lawrence
of Arabia and Ryan’s Daughter among
his 19 directing credits). He doesn't see the India of travel posters and lurid
postcards, but the India of a Victorian watercolorist like Edward Lear, who
placed enigmatic little human figures here and there in spectacular landscapes
that never seemed to be quite finished. Lean makes India look like an amazing,
beautiful place that an Englishman can never quite put his finger on -- which
is, of course, the lesson Miss Quested learns in the caves.
David Lean
is a meticulous craftsman, famous for going to any lengths to make every shot
look just the way he thinks it should. His actors here are encouraged to give sound,
thoughtful, unflashy performances (Guinness strains at the bit), and his
screenplay is a model of clarity: By the end of this movie we know these people
so well, and understand them so thoroughly, that only the most reckless among
us would want to go back and have a closer look at those caves. [Ebert’s
rating: **** out of 4 stars]
Labels: adventure, cross-cultural, drama, history, period
Blogger’s
comments: A Passage to India is set
in 1920s India, after World War I. The British Raj, the rule by the British
Crown in the Indian subcontinent, began in 1858, and we can see evidence in the
film of the civil unrest which would become Mohandas Gandhi’s non-violent resistance
and, finally, independence for India in 1947.
Maurice
Jarre (1924-2009) composed the soundtrack, which is very reminiscent of his
work as composer for David Lean’s Lawrence
of Arabia (1962), Doctor Zhivago
(1965) and especially Ryan’s Daughter (1970).
A Passage to India won two Oscars in 1985, for Best
Supporting Actress (Ashcroft) and Best Music, Original Score (Maurice Jarre).
The film was nominated for nine additional Oscars, including Best Picture, Best
Director (Lean), and Best Actress in a Leading Role (Davis).
In the film's final scene, Richard Fielding (Fox) returns to India over a decade later and finds Dr. Aziz (Banerjee) living in Srinagar, Kashmir, married with two children and with his own medical clinic. Fielding has brought with him his wife Stella (Sandra Hotz) the daughter of Mrs. Moore (Ashcroft). In this picture we see Fielding introducing Stella and Dr. Aziz.
In an interesting bit of trivia, Sandra Hotz was married to director David Lean. They relationship began in 1966, when Hotz (b. 1946) was 20 and Lean (1908 - 1991) was 58. They were married from 1981-1984 and divorced presumably after filming wrapped. Hotz had a non-speaking role in the film, and according to her IMDb page, it was her only acting credit.
In an interesting bit of trivia, Sandra Hotz was married to director David Lean. They relationship began in 1966, when Hotz (b. 1946) was 20 and Lean (1908 - 1991) was 58. They were married from 1981-1984 and divorced presumably after filming wrapped. Hotz had a non-speaking role in the film, and according to her IMDb page, it was her only acting credit.
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