Tintorettor Jishu: how does the film match up against the book? (টিনটোরেটোর যীশু)

It is Christmas day and a little over a year since Sandip Ray’s film adaptation of Satyajit Ray’s Tintorettor Jishu was released. The reception to the film has been generally positive, although many armchair critics have criticized the film as not living up to their expectations.

A particularly harsh criticism leveled against Sandip Ray’s adaptation is that it is not faithful to the original book. I think this criticism is somewhat unfair with respect to Tintorettor Jishu. Sandip Ray’s film deviates from the plot substantially, but the experience is equally enriching. In order to fully appreciate Sandip Ray’s cinematic version, we need to consider both the book and the film side-by-side.

First, those demanding that the script completely mirror the story must realize that this is impossible. As a friend and I were discussing today, you cannot take a first-person novel narrated by one of the main characters and directly replicate it on the screen. You would be left with a film in which you would see the plot develop in front of Topshe, without actually seeing him in a single frame! Of course, Satyajit Ray didn’t attempt anything like this either.

Now, let me be the first to admit that Tintorettor Jishu is not one of my favorite Satyajit Ray stories. The complex story involves multiple locations, characters, and plot shifts. Reading it recently, I observed that the plot moves primarily through action (and not through dialogue or Topshe’s observation of Feluda’s deductive reasoning like in my favorite Feluda novels). Having expressed my reservations about the book, I’ll mention my thoughts on the film; I think Sandip Ray did an exemplary job converting the book to the big-screen.

I’ll start with the major deviations from the book. Before the credit titles appear on the screen, viewers are shown the character posing as Rudrashankar Niyogi kill Soumyasekhar Niyogi’s dog, Thumri. The book actually starts a little later paralleling the action depicted just after the credits in the film. However, revealing that Rudrashankar Niyogi killed the dog is not the central mystery in the story. The mystery behind who he actually is, is not revealed until later in the film. In fact, even in the book, Rudrashankar Niyogi meets with the art-dealer, Hiralal Somani to discuss his offer for handing over the painting, so readers are well aware of his malicious intent.

More importantly, Sandip Ray maintains the air of suspense around the painting and the suspicious characters in the story. Who is Robin Chowdhury? Why was the dog killed? Who steals the painting? How many forgeries are floating around? These are the questions I focused on while both reading the book and watching the film.

The other major deviation from the book involves the action sequences. Viewers of the film may not remember that even the book has a fair share of fight sequences. Of course, these have been changed somewhat on the screen. The fight between the trio and Somani’s henchmen occurred in an isolated room in the book. Sandip Ray transposed this to a Chinese junk and added Robin Chowdhury to the fracas. To detractors I ask a simple question, “why shoot inside a room, when you can make the scene visually appealing by shooting in Hong Kong Harbour?” I am a big fan of magajastro too, but what a gorgeous, fluid scene!

I think Sandip Ray and his crew have done an exceptional job in creating seamless transitions between the scenes throughout the film (with the sole exception of the unexpected and contrived special-effects storm when the trio first see the painting). Sandip Ray uses the full canvas very intelligently. Why mention that that the character posing as Rudrashekhar Niyogi has an Indian passport, when you can show it to your viewers?

Viewers should also bear in mind the fact that Jotayu had a very limited role in the book. The dialogue between Jotayu and other characters (especially in Hong Kong) has been expanded in the film. I tried to guess which lines were in the book and which were added to the script and often guessed wrongly. Viewers should try this exercise too and they will find that some of the most flawless shifts come from the incidental dialogue in the film.

Like other Feluda connoisseurs, I do have some mixed feelings about the modernized version of Feluda’s world. I miss the old-world charm and dated innocence of Satyajit Ray’s books. Sandip Ray’s Feluda lives in the present. As an example, Haripada’s green Ambassador has given way to a green Santro. The article that Bhudev Singh wrote on Tintoretto Jishu for the Illustrated Weekly of India has become one that he wrote for India Today. Throughout the film, the villains use cell phones.

In Tintoretto Jishu, the framework is not disrupted by these changes, but the transition to modernity is a brave choice. Satayjit Ray’s Feluda solved mysteries before cell phones and the internet. It would, therefore, be a safe choice to stick to those times. But by breaking from the books, Sandip Ray may need to tweak scripts for his future Feluda films so that they fit in with the times.

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