The River

This 2-disc Blu-ray release is worth it just for the staggering Bonus features alone: hours of rare and vintage travelogue films depicting India under British rule and before, of the uprising under Gandhi and much more. The feature film THE RIVER likewise is somewhat of a rarity as it marks director Jean Renoir’s first drama film in colour and is a curious blend of movie and documentary.

Hampered by difficulties from the off, The River (1951) is a somewhat loose adaptation of Rumer Gooden’s novel although by and large she approved of the end result – in contrast to Powell and Pressburger’s 1947 film adaptation of her more famous novel ‘Black Narcissus’ which deeply dissatisfied her.
Not much happens in The River it must be said and modern audiences may well struggle to warm to this cosy and ‘as English as it gets’ tale about a, er, upper middle-class English family (oh for the English class system!) who live in a stately home by the banks of the Ganges river in India. Father (Esmond Knight) runs a jute Mill and Mother (Nora Swinburne) is up the duff again expecting her sixth child – already having four daughters and one young son named ‘Bogey’ (Richard R. Foster). One of the daughters is ‘ugly duckling’ Harriet (Patricia Walters) and it is through her adult voice (narrated in a nauseatingly upper crust manner by actress June Hillman) that the story is told in flashback. Former Indian dancer Radha Burnier plays Melanie and ‘Nan’ (Suprova Mukerjee) are just as much part of the extended household as is old Sajjan (Bhogwan Singh). Melanie is in fact the mixed-race daughter of Father whose first wife, a local native woman, had died. Brought up with a blend of British tradition and values as well as native Indian beliefs, the family live a seemingly carefree and tranquil existence though that changes when Harriet’s best friend Valerie (Adrienne Corri) arrives for a visit, much to the timid girl’s delight.

Harriet’s initial delight soon changes into jealousy however with the arrival of another guest: Captain John (Thomas E. Breen), a cousin who has been invited to live on the plantation and who has lost one leg in the war. Arriving with him is his father Mr. John (Arthur Shields). Despite the young Captain’s handicap, daydreamer, poet and storyteller Harriet is hopelessly smitten although being fully aware of the fact that she will never win a beauty contest. In contrast, pretty Valerie attracts the attention of Captain John who seems taken with her but she’s more interested in flirting and “would never go out with a man with one leg”. Soon tensions spill over in the household brought on by rivalry between Harriet and Valerie and the fact that John furthermore feels close to Melanie though cultural differences and a difficult past hamper any serious emotional development. With Harriet increasingly frustrated by the fact the Captain John is simply not interested in her other than friendship she escapes into a fantasy world through her writing – in one story Melanie becomes the wife of dashing local man Anil (Trilak Jetley) who then turns into Krishna. Disaster strikes when young Bogey’s fondness for snakes cost him his life while out playing and trying to hypnotize a cobra with a flute. It is a wake-up call for the family and also for Harriet. In the final scene we see how Harriet (obviously modelled on author Rumer Godden) dedicates her talents to writing, Captain John leaves the plantation and Mother gives birth to yet another daughter.

The film’s narrative is interspersed by documentary-style footage of daily life among the locals and in particular their activities along the Ganges river – making this a hotchpotch you will either warm to or not. That said, the traditional sitar and table music supplied by M. A. Partha Sarathy enhances the overall atmosphere of the film. What’s particularly interesting is the fact that the cast (with few exceptions) consisted of amateurs and children. For example Patricia Walters (‘Harriet’) was discovered by director Renoir on the streets of Calcutta and cast for the film despite the fact that she had never acted before (and never did again). Bhogwan Singh (Old Sajian) was in fact director Renoir’s cab driver! All this is documented in the insightful documentary about the making of the film.

On Disc 2 we are treated to an almost exhausting three hours of bonus films, starting with director Roberto Rosselini’s 1959 part-docu/part-fiction feature-length portrait INDIA MATRI BHUMI. Equally arresting (if not more) is Sandhya Suri’s 2018 ‘Around India with a Movie Camera’ travelogue – a 73 min long affair drawn exclusively from the BFI National Archive and featuring some of the earliest surviving film (late 19th century!) of India though some viewers might feel offended by archive clips depicting patronising colonial attitudes towards the natives, in particular a ditty called ‘The Rollicking Rajah’ performed in 1914 by a white English singer with a darkened face, dressed in traditional Indian garb surrounded by dancing ‘English roses’ dressed in harem attire. Say no more! No wonder Michael Palin felt inspired to take the p**s out of British colonialism with his hilarious RIPPING YARNS send-up sketch ‘Roger of the Raj’ from 1979!