Watching Aranyer Din Ratri in 480p while the world applauds in 4K

Time of India

5 days ago

As the Business Head for The Times of India, I lead strategic initiatives and drive growth for one of the nation's most influential media organisations. My journalist friends believe I've crossed over to the proverbial dark side. Living on the edges of a dynamic newsroom, I dabble infrequently into these times that we live and believe in the spectatorial axiom – 'distance provides perspective'. LESS ... MORE
A slightly squinting, wholly mesmerised viewer of great cinema, regardless of resolution.
It happened the way it always does. A news alert buzzes in: Satyajit Ray's Aranyer Din Ratri has received a standing ovation at Cannes, now reborn in shimmering 4K, courtesy Wes Anderson and The Film Foundation. Sharmila Tagore and Simi Garewal are all elegance and nostalgia on the red carpet. And me? I'm slouched on my couch, watching a pixelated version on YouTube—complete with floating watermarks and the occasional audio dropout.
Also read: Cannes 2025 screening: 'Aranyer Din Ratri' receives standing ovation
(Picture: Sharmila Tagore and Simi Garewal at Cannes Film Festival 2025)
Call it poetic irony, or just very subcontinental.
But here's the twist. Even in that battered, barely-holding-it-together version, the film still gripped me by the collar. The forest still breathed. The silences still echoed. The infamous memory game scene still sliced through class, gender and entitlement with the precision of a scalpel. And Duli's smile? Still unknowable. Still unforgettable.
Yes, it stings a little to know that somewhere in the south of France, people were gasping at every restored shadow and rediscovered frame of Soumendu Roy's cinematography. That the grain of the forest floor, the tremble in Sharmila's voice, the murmur of Ray's score—all made pristine again—were finding new audiences. And yes, the restoration is reportedly a masterpiece itself: cleaned, cared for, curated.
(Picture courtesy: Facebook)
But you know what? The truth about Ray's genius is this—it doesn't need 4K to function. His films operate at another bandwidth entirely. They get under your skin. His camera doesn't just watch; it listens. Not just to words, but to pauses, glances, guilt, desire. That emotional fidelity—that unspoken weight—remains intact, even in 480p.
Also read: Sharmila Tagore and Simi Garewal dazzle on the red carpet at the Cannes Film Festival 2025 screening of Satyajit Ray's film 'Aranyer Din Ratri'
At the cusp of two Rays
Aranyer Din Ratri is also where Ray pivots. It marks the start of his 1970s phase—where his gaze sharpens, his tone darkens, and his themes veer from the lyrical to the political. The 1960s gave us the quiet dissection of the Bengali middle class in films like Mahanagar, Nayak, Kapurush. But the '70s? That was when Ray pulled out the gloves and dropped the poetry.
What followed was the Kolkata Trilogy—Pratidwandi, Seemabaddha, Jana Aranya—where disillusioned young men wandered through moral quicksand, economic dead-ends, and the city's cold bureaucratic heart. Aranyer Din Ratri stands at that crossroads. It's as if Ray packed four men off into the woods, watched them fall apart, and came back convinced: things are going to get worse.
Think of it as the cinematic equivalent of taking a long weekend before diving into a decade of existential dread.
Watching Aranyer Din Ratri in less-than-ideal conditions is like reading Charulata in a tattered paperback. You're not missing the point—you're just closer to the ink. Perhaps this is the truest test of a classic: that it still moves you despite the medium. It doesn't need Dolby or restoration credits to provoke introspection.
The film still asks the same uncomfortable questions. Who are we when the city recedes and the forest begins? When we stop performing, who remains? What breaks first—the mask or the man?
So yes, I'll be first in line when the restored version hits our shores. But till then, I'm strangely grateful for that grainy YouTube copy. It reminded me that Ray's cinema wasn't just crafted for projection rooms and film festivals—it was built to last. Built to haunt.
Even through static.
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Views expressed above are the author's own.