The second film in a trilogy is in a strange position, particularly when we’re considering a series of films that has been intentionally designed to be told over multiple entries (rather than the tendency for the industry to try and capitalize on major successes by commissioning sequels after the fact). In many ways, the film occurring in the middle has less responsibility in comparison to the other two, which isn’t often discussed, since everyone tends to gravitate towards either the first entry, or the final one, with the second rarely being the subject of much conversation. When looking at Satyajit Ray’s incredible The Apu Trilogy, the same can certainly be applied to the second entry, Aparajito (অপরাজিত, “The Unvanquished”). This is a film that doesn’t have the burden of introducing us into this world (as was the case with Pather Panchali), nor is it one that has to endure the dual responsibilities of both being an accumulation of the previous two films and resolving all loose ends, while still being an admirable work on its own. Instead, it’s the one that is mostly glossed over, existing as a stepping stone more than it is a work that is definitive of the trilogy. This is certainly unfortunate, because there are moments where I genuinely believe Aparajito to not only be the best of the trilogy, but perhaps the finest work Ray ever did – but when you’re dealing with an artist with a career as rich and varied as his, such bold statements can come across somewhat hasty, especially since there is quite a bit I still have yet to explore. Regardless, the work he did in this trilogy was absolutely impeccable, and resulted in perhaps the finest coming-of-age story ever put on film, and one that essentially launched an entire movement in Indian cinema, the after-effects of which we can still see embedded in the industry. Both an incredible film on its own, and an essential component in the trilogy, Aparajito is simply spellbinding, original and utterly unforgettable, which are not foreign concepts when discussing the work of Ray, who never deviated from the most powerful expression of sheer artistry imaginable.

Since I did outline many of the reasons why the saga of Apu was so important in my review of the first entry, its important to avoid retreading much of the same commentary. However, Ray does something very smart, taking an approach that many directors hoping to put together such a rich trilogy could easily learn from – while acknowledging and appreciating the success of the first film, Ray refuses to rest on his laurels, and instead makes a profoundly different film, perhaps not in terms of the story (since it still follows the same set of characters), but rather in the approach being taken in both the way the story unfolds, and the directorial choices made. Once again working from the novel by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay, Aparajito looks at the years immediately succeeding the end of Pather Panchali, where we saw Apu and his family leaving their ancestral home in search of a better life in the city. This film picks up where the previous one left off, and its difficult to imagine another sequel having been as consistent in how it both reminded us of the origins of these characters without relying on exposition or actually spending a portion of the time retreading past events. It requires the viewer to have some familiarity with the previous film, but perhaps not so much that having not seen it is a drastic inconvenience. Like any great trilogy, the three films Ray made need to not only be excellent when perceived alongside each other, but also be incredible on their own. Ray’s precise directorial vision comes to life beautifully in every frame of this film, and his insistence on going in a radically different direction ultimately benefitted Aparajito tremendously, as it not only gave us a new set of adventures to look forward to, but didn’t require us to sit through the same narrative meanderings that we had seen already in the previous film – when you’ve already made something perfect, why attempt to replicate it when you could just try something entirely new?

The only main consistency that is carried over from the previous film into  Aparajito, beyond it centring on the early years of its titular protagonist, is the sense of social realism that Ray essentially helped create and introduce to Indian cinema. It may not be as potent as it was in Pather Panchali (which had a tendency to be incredibly bleak in its representation of the salt-of-the-earth origins of Apu and his family), but it still exists in quite a poignant form, manifesting through the development of the character of Apu, rather than portraying it through his surroundings. Aparajito is a great film that functions as a bridge between the two other ones that occur on either side of it, which we can see woven into the narrative, as it focuses on roughly ten years of his life, from his early childhood until the end of his adolescence. Neither of the other films have the sheer volume of character development as this one has, which makes the fact that it has been slightly neglected all the more upsetting, since Ray is doing something incredibly powerful with how he brings Apu to life. He’s no longer the naive, impressionable little boy he was at the beginning of the trilogy, but he has yet to achieve the world-weariness that he garners from the various trials and tribulations of his adult years – instead, he’s caught in the middle, grasping onto what remains of his innocence while still trying to make a life for himself. It leads to some absolutely unforgettable moments that are as triumphantly beautiful as they are absolutely shattering, with every moment in Aparajito feeling so authentic and aligned with the director’s very precise understanding of the human condition.

As a coming-of-age story, this film alone probably qualifies as one of the finest in all of literature, perhaps not for the poeticism of seeing how his journey begins, or the cumulative power of bidding him farewell at the end of the trilogy, but purely by virtue of how it builds the world of Apu, developing him from childhood to his adult years without any heavy-handed sentiment or unnecessary meandering. Ray’s ability to show the passage of time is incredible, and whether through the literal jump forward, where we see the protagonist age about ten years in a matter of seconds, or in the more subtle development of him into an intellectual and fully-formed young adult (consider the early scene in the film where he reads a poem as a child in class, contrasted with the latter sequences of his university career, where he shows a very similar aptitude for learning), there is a poignancy to how Ray composes Apu and makes him such a profoundly interesting character. It can be reduced to how the director makes use of emotion – each frame of the film is brimming with an authenticity that simply can’t be the product of anything other than a filmmaker who is in complete control of his craft, to the point where everything about the film, from the conceptual stage to the final moments of production, is already planned out, with the emphasis not only being on telling this compelling story, but also captivating the viewer by showing us the emotional intricacies of the story. Aparajito can sometimes be very difficult to watch (the third act, which focuses on Apu and his mother, is one of the most heartbreaking storylines in film history), but it has an honesty to it that cannot be understated. Each moment feels real and lived-in, and considering Ray was drawing on some of his own experiences (without making this film autobiographical at all, rather extracting certain emotions and sensations that would be common to the majority of viewers based on his own understanding of the world around him), it gives the film a necessary boost in the direction of authenticity – and social realism without genuine emotion is far too bleak and, quite frankly, entirely unwatchable, which Ray easily avoids.

Aparajito is an absolutely astonishing film, and while it bears repeating that it is inherently at a disadvantage in contrast to the other two films in terms of not having some of the more notable components that the first and last entries into a series has. However, it holds its own, and consistently manages to be an extraordinarily insightful character-driven drama that cuts to the core of existence, expressing a wide range of ideas in ways that are honest without being too unsettling, beautifully intelligent without even a trace of pretension, and gorgeously striking in both form and content, in a way that feels entirely true to the spirit of the story. Shot beautifully and once again featuring an incredible score (as was the case with the previous film, NAME and Ravi Shankar return to these two components respectively and yet again prove how essential they are to telling Apu’s story, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ray as essential collaborators in this stunning saga), Aparajito is just an absolute marvel, an intricate and fascinating coming-of-age drama that avoids the pitfalls of most other films that try and tell this story by featuring a young director telling a story that genuinely moved him. We’ve seen on countless occasions instances of the most resonant work coming from artists who have a strong connection to the material – and while he himself may not have had first-hand experiences of all these situations represented in the film, the spirit of the culture is pulsating throughout Aparajito, coming through with a striking poignancy that never abates, and all converges into an intimate, powerful film about finding one’s individuality in a hostile world that is constantly changing, which is a premise that is just as relevant today as it was at the time in which Ray poured his heart and soul into creating this unforgettable and thoroughly exquisite journey into the human condition.