The River

Everything that will happen has happened, and must happen again and again. This sentiment is the feeling that watching Renoir’s late-career triumph The River inspires. What I admired most about the film was its pacing: events occur, people come and they go, and life marches on, much as the river, upon which the characters live, drifts by with lazy yet resolute purpose. There are no firm resolutions to the myriad questions and small ideas that the film espouses, only a confidence that time will reveal all.

A story that utilizes the lives of children often works best in novels because film has the tendency to make these characters fairy-like: cute, and just as unbelievable. The children in The River, however, are real and serve the plot well, rather than acting as mere distractions. The narration by the elder Harriet of her younger days living in Bengal reminded me of Scout’s adult voice in To Kill a Mockingbird: a time-worn reality imbues their respective words. What they say and want to impart has been earned by experience, and they respect the insights of their younger selves in equal measure. The best facet of The River is that the film respects the wisdom of its children characters; there’s a wonder and awe to children’s ideas that adults dismiss too easily, but Renoir knows that what we learn as children – from others or through self-reflection – forms who we are as adults.

The River features an India that is not made exotic; rather, the viewer sees the land similar to how the white British family that lives there must see India. They are on the fringes of the local culture, participating in festivals and holidays without making themselves the focal point of those holy days. The film represents India best in its almost documentary approach to capturing the scene of the local markets and the various stairways leading to the water, worn steps oft-filled with locals going down to their source of life. The River illustrates the contrasting conceptions of time that the Indians and English hold, which upon further inspection may contribute to the cultural misunderstandings that are ultimately tied to their shared economic interests, but the film does not sugges tthis explicitly and offers no solutions (for the film’s betterment, I believe).

Renoir wrote the famous line “Everyone’s got their reasons,” and also said that he didn’t fully understand its meaning until he made The River nearly fifteen years later. If you enjoy his work, and especially the ideas behind his masterpiece The Rules of the Game, then seek out The River and take a break near the waters of Bengal.

Here’s Martin Scorsese discussing The River below.