There are some filmmakers that extend beyond simply being auteurs – their significance wasn’t merely limited to their mastery of the craft of cinema, but extended into being historically resonant in terms of definitive artistry. Satyajit Ray was undeniably one of them, and standing as one of the greatest filmmakers of his (or any) generation, he proved himself to be someone who changed cinema in his own precise way, creating works of art that have stood the test of time and flourished into moments of indelible cultural importance, touching on issues that persist today. His most prominent work will always be the astounding The Apu Trilogy, but his entire career is worth exploring, something I have discovered is not only encouraged, but entirely necessary, for anyone with even a passing interest in cinema. The Hero (Bengali: Nayak) is one of his masterpieces, a daring social drama with moments of delightful levity, made in the style of the great neo-realist films that the director had always made very clear as being some of his most prominent inspirations, offering a glimpse into the human condition in a manner that only someone who thoroughly in command of their craft could’ve achieved without it becoming overwrought or preoccupied with its own brilliance, a tendency all too often perceived with these kinds of metafictional odysseys that attempt to simultaneously be profoundly human while offering sardonic commentary on more resonant, but far-less essential, issues. A classic of not only Indian filmmaking but rather of world cinema in general, The Hero is an enduring masterpiece, a sweetly sentimental drama with a jagged edge and an immense understanding of the bold issues it seeks to explore, guided by the incredibly capable vision of a director who seemed to be singularly unable to infuse a single false note into any of his work, resulting in some of the most soaringly beautiful films that are as triumphant as they are quintessentially human.

Arindam Mukherjee (Uttam Kumar) is one of the biggest stars in India, a fact that he struggles to acknowledge, not necessarily a result of his humility, but rather the work of a dissenting voice within his head that reminds him of the volatility of fame, and how everything is just temporary, including this adoration he receives from the public. He is on his way to New Delhi to receive an award that recognizes his talent – it comes at quite an opportune moment, as he was slowly finding his way out of the prestige art-focused journals and glowing review sections and into the pages of gossip magazines, where his personal life was becoming a predominant aspect of public discernment. Having missed his plane, he decides he is going to travel by train, opting to get a compartment and sleep the journey away. However, this turns out to be only a passing thought, as he finds himself constantly inundated with attention particularly from the adoring fans that are occupying the same train, all of them hoping to get a moment alone with their film star idol. Naturally, the person Arindam is most drawn to is one who wants his attention the least –  Aditi Sengupta (Sharmila Tagore) is a young journalist who has risen to the ranks of editor-in-chief of one of India’s more popular woman’s magazines, but has grown disillusioned for the tendency for these publications to focus on more inconsequential matters, rather than real matters. More concerned with authentic topics and insightful content, she pays very little attention to the gossip that pervades the atmosphere, which makes her the perfect candidate for Arindam to bare his soul to, which he reluctantly agrees to do when he realizes that she may offer him something he’s been searching for – a neutral perspective. Over the course of their journey, the duo engages in a series of conversations, where the actor relays tales of his past, including his origins as a performer, the chilling warning given to him by an older collaborator warning him against pursuing a film career (and the eventual manifestation of the consequences he was cautioned against), and his general insecurities that he has accumulated while being in the public eye. Elevated beyond simple hearsay, and being quite profound in their depth, Aditi gradually starts recording these stories, as they provide the exact insights into a certain side of humanity that she has been desperately seeking, to no avail, until she encounters a cripplingly lonely man who happens to be masquerading as the most beloved public entertainer in all of India.

The Hero wastes very little time in establishing its central themes, making it very clear that this is going to be a film about the many different aspects of fame. It had been just over a decade since Ray’s breakthrough with Pather Panchali, which not only demonstrated him to be one of the most talented filmmakers working in India but elevated him to a wider global audience. Therefore, its only natural that he would’ve seen a particular side of fame that isn’t always clear from films that glamourize the experience, with the director endeavouring to explore facets of the industry that aren’t often represented without bordering on parodic or overly sardonic. The Hero is a film that asks a very simple question, which remains its primary thesis statement throughout the duration: what is fame, and who deserves it? Ray positions the film as being the story of a young but massively acclaimed movie star on his way to receive yet another bundle of adoration from audiences who see him as the embodiment of perfection – but the film isn’t preoccupied with looking at how he deals with his fame, but rather his path towards this very moment. Ultimately, The Hero rhapsodizes on the fact that many people become famous by accident, but not many are able to sustain that fame. For someone like Arindam Mukherjee, he has been forced into being universally seen as “the hero”, both in the roles he is given to play, and the position he’s been put into by the general public, who expects his life to reflect the courage and morality of his characters, which contrasts sharply with the recent tabloid fodder that presents a very different story. The film is centred around the importance of looking beyond the headlines, whether triumphant or embarrassing and focusing on the names they liberally throw around. Arindam is one of the countless people whose experiences with fame may have brought adoration and wealth but has sacrificed their humanity in some small way, turning them from fully-formed individuals into one-dimensional characters that apparently serve the purpose of public amusement.

However, The Hero could never be called a cautionary tale, not only because Ray wasn’t a filmmaker who bothered too much with overwrought socio-cultural commentary that hinges on the theme of deriding and subsequently rectifying the carnal immorality of those who don’t adhere to the careful confines of what is acceptable, but also because it’s more intent on providing a deeply human story that is more concerned with inciting an interesting discussion that ventures into some poignant issues that are as relevant today as they were over half a century ago. The theme of celebrity has been a staple of cinema as long as the concept of a movie star has existed, and in taking his cue from some of the Hollywood films that inspired him, Ray puts together a wonderfully moving story about one man who is in a constant state of movement. Not only is Arindam on a physical journey between places (namely his home, where he made his name all those years before, and the nation’s capital, where he’s about to receive yet another award for his work, which he secretly realizes is wholly undeserved), he’s also undergoing a metaphysical voyage, which he did not expect when he sought out the tranquillity of a cross-country train-ride, which he hoped to pass through without having to engage with these more challenging issues. The Hero places the character in a position where introspection is entirely necessary, especially with the presence of the beguiling journalist who slowly compels him to open up and reveal his deepest insecurities. A series of conversations between Arindam and Aditi ensue, and his memories take the form of stories, fragments of his past that are pieced together to create a complex portrait of a larger-than-life individual who has been reduced from his status as a towering cultural figure, to simply another passenger on an ordinary train, heading to the same location as his fellow travellers at the same speed as everyone else. It’s in this fascinating duality between the acclaimed celebrity and his adoring fans (and the occasional detractor) that gives The Hero the nuance it needs to propel this very simple, but extraordinarily moving, story of the inevitable pratfalls of fame, and the haunting perils of being in the public eye.

This works its way into the central conflict of the film, in which Ray is making some profoundly interesting commentary on the intersections between the cult(ure) of celebrity, and its often disconcerting boundlessness. The Hero takes the form of an immensely fascinating character study, whereby the director puts together a powerful exploration of the protagonist’s lives, both personal and professional, and how he is perpetually playing a part, to the point where he may have entirely forgotten who he actually was before acquiring nationwide acclaim. At the outset of the film, Arindam is a deity-like figure, someone revered with almost god-like praise by the public, seen as an otherworldly presence to those who have long admired his work. Ray’s story makes use of both meanings of the term “idol” – both the loose reference to the highest standard of movie star that is loved by the public for his work and the more unsettling extent to which ordinary people devote their lives to knowing every aspect of his existence, bordering dangerously on ludicrous worship. However, over the course of The Hero, Arindam’s veneer gradually unravels, revealing a deeply damaged, insecure man who has found his way to the top and is now desperately trying to stay there, while still questioning his own motives for retaining fame, being fully aware of the fact that celebrity culture has two very different sides – there’s the positive, with the wealth and acclaim, which is contrasted with the immense loneliness that comes with being seen as superior to others by virtue of branded as more special than the ordinary, pedestrian admirers. Ultimately, The Hero is not simply intent on demonstrating a different side of fame, but compounds the theme of loneliness and inner-turmoil above it, creating a film that touches on some profoundly sensitive topics along the way, with Ray providing some incredibly potent insights into the human condition from the perspective of someone who seems to haven accepted fame in exchange for forgetting precisely what it means to be human in the first place.

While it certainly has the ambition in its themes to stand as its own fascinating work of metafictional storytelling, The Hero sees the director employing an unrelentingly powerful method of filmmaking to realize its bold ideas. Ray embodied the spirit of a true auteur by not only managing to construct a brilliant narrative from a series of thematic threads, weaving them together to form something incredibly compelling and complex, but also putting together a series of images that encapsulate the intentions with perfect lucidity. The Hero is a simple film, but one that is achingly beautiful, both in narrative and how it is composed – Ray endeavoured to represent the human condition, in much the same way as his neo-realist inspirations took their cue from ordinary life, with an unfurnished, direct approach to the truth of a given situation. Set almost entirely on a train that is traversing the Indian countryside, the simple scope of the film lends it the opportunity to focus less on the peripheral elements of the story, and more on the fascinating ideas it establishes at the outset. The Hero constantly (and extremely effectively) oscillates between styles, with the main story being a work of sincere realism, informed by many of the filmmakers that Ray cited as influences on his style, with the minimalistic approach serving the film particularly well, not only through providing a more direct entry-point into this story for viewers who may not be entirely familiar with the content at the outset, but also in terms of giving us insights into the more abstract nuances of the story. These moments of fragile simplicity are contrasted with more audacious sequences, such as Arindam’s first dream sequence, where he gallivants amongst mountains of rupee notes, before sinking into the endless depths of greed (a truly astonishing scene that could be one of the most beautiful uses of the dream trope as an allegory for something deeper), which borders on surrealist but is restrained enough to not completely surrender itself to the uncanny. The two different styles dovetail into a gorgeous story of humanity channelled through the gradual dismantling of the protagonist’s status as an unimpeachable icon, showing the inner depths of a complex individual, and telling a truly powerful story along the way, with reality and fantasy amalgamating in remarkably unexpected ways.

One of the methods with which Ray easily conveys the might of this story without needing to resort to the kind of excessive filmmaking that sometimes pervades these forays into the perils of fame is through the actors, who are given a poignant script to interpret and do exceptionally well in evoking both the exuberant humour and the tender melancholy that Ray envisioned in both the dialogue and the scenes that require certain concepts to go unsaid. A surface-level knowledge of Indian cinema will make the reasons for casting Uttam Kumar in the lead role incredibly clear – one of the greatest stars of Bengali cinema of this period, Kumar appears to be playing off his own reputation in a way that is somewhat ironic and tongue-in-cheek, but far from an opportunistic attempt to capitalize on the film’s more subversive themes of the immense power of celebrity. Instead of just playing a heightened version of himself, Kumar instead brings a charm and elegance to a role that is far more complex than simply the dashing film star in an existential crisis. He is accompanied for much of the film by an ensemble cast, of which Sharmila Tagore is most prominent. In her capacity as the film’s de facto co-lead (and the catalyst for much of the film’s more insightful moments), Tagore stands toe-to-toe with Kumar, challenging his character without defaulting into the archetype of the feisty, elusive modern woman who finds herself falling for the protagonist based on his persuasive charms, but rather a complex character who serves as both the audience surrogate and the gateway into the mind of the main character, who reveals his inner psychological state to a relative stranger. The film does exceptionally well in foregrounding this duo, with their series of conversations and growing friendship being the consistent thread in a powerful social drama that weaves an acidic sense of humour into the story by means of the rest of the cast, who not only provide moments of levity, such as the elderly passenger who goes out of his way to point out the flaws in cinema, or the various characters who weave their way through the story, whether as devoted fans afraid to approach Arindam, or figures from his past, who served as vital components in his formative years. The Hero has a terrific cast, and Ray makes sure that he gives equal attention to his leads as he does the smaller characters, all of which make up this powerful social tapestry.

The Hero is a truly magnificent film, not only because of the message it conveys, but also the varying ways in which it looks into some potent themes with elegance, humour and authentic emotion. The film does not coast on its relatively simple story as a way of giving insights into the broader themes it’s exploring, but rather manages to challenge many preconceived notions of issues that remain quite relevant. One of the most profound questions the film asks is only made clear towards the end, where the audience begins to wonder who the hero of the title is referring to – does it suggest the characters the protagonist has played throughout his career, an archetype that extends to his personal life and how his admirers perceive him, or could it be the people who he encounters, whose hard work will go mostly unknown for the vast majority of the population, and will likely never achieve even an iota of the recognition that someone who was simply lucky enough to get a chance takes for granted. Ray has composed a gorgeous film, littered with astonishing performances from the cast, a beautiful approach to representing this subversively complex story, both thematically and in terms of the style, and a narrative that compiles many fascinating concepts into an elegant indictment on the extents of public perception, and the volatility of fame and its benefits. The Hero is an immensely introspective work of art, one that delves deep into some serious issues, albeit with an abundance of grace and wit, to the point where it comes extremely close to complex philosophical profundity, being accessible but still rousingly fascinating. The Hero is a truly triumphant work, carefully-curated by a masterful filmmaker who demonstrates both a keen understanding of deeply human issues and a visionary perspective that can realize them with effervescent sophistication and exhilarating vigour. Its beautiful, poetic and truly unforgettable cinema, handcrafted by a filmmaker who embodied the very spirit of what it means to exist, which has never been more clear than in works like The Hero, which offers insightful critique into the innumerable idiosyncrasies of life that make it so unpredictable.