“Fortunately, great works of art are far beyond the reach of critics.”
There’s something quietly confident about that line. Ray did not write this in anger or bitterness. He wrote it as a simple observation—a statement of fact from a man who spent decades making movies that critics sometimes misunderstood, sometimes dismissed, and yet never managed to diminish.
The relevance of this quote
What he meant was this: a truly great work does not depend on whether a critic approves of it. He lives on his own terms. He finds his audience. It will last. Critics can shape conversations and influence box office numbers, but they can’t reach into a work of art and change what makes it powerful. That part is untouchable.
The meaning of this quote goes far beyond cinematography. In any creative field—writing, music, painting—there are always voices that question, reject, or undervalue the work. Ray’s words are a reminder that great art takes on a life of its own. Will wait for the review. It outlives the reviewer.
A man behind his words
Satyajit Ray was born on May 2, 1921 in Calcutta to a family steeped in literature and art. He began his working life as a graphic artist, but meeting the French filmmaker Jean Renoir and watching the Italian film The Bicycle Thieves in 1950 changed the course of his life. He made his directorial debut in 1955 with Pather Panchali and directed 36 films, including 29 feature films, five documentaries and two short films.
His first feature film won acclaim at international festivals and marked the beginning of the Apu Trilogy, which includes Aparajito (1956) and Apur Sansar (1959) – films that offered richly detailed narratives and captured life in Bengal with a level of emotional honesty that was ground-breaking for Indian cinema.
Read also | Vivek Agnihotri: ‘Filmmakers are silenced in Satyajit Ray’s land’
He wasn’t just a director. Ray served as writer, producer, director, cinematographer, composer, and even the opening credits calligrapher for many of his films. He didn’t just make movies. He wrote them completely and utterly in a way that very few filmmakers in history have managed.
Less than a month before his death in April 1992, Ray received an honorary Oscar. The Academy’s citation read: “To Satyajit Ray in recognition of his rare mastery of the art of cinema and his profound humanitarian outlook, which has had an indelible impact on filmmakers and audiences worldwide.”
A name that went around the world
Ray never made a Hollywood movie. He turned down every offer and stayed in Calcutta, rooted in the stories he knew best. And yet somehow the world came to him.
George Lucas discovered Ray’s films as a film student and considered his work an important part of his directorial education. He later reflected that Ray “had a profound effect on filmmakers and audiences around the world”.
Francis Ford Coppola considered Ray’s film Devi a “cinematic milestone” and publicly recalled the phone call during which Ray praised The Godfather and praised the performances of Al Pacino and Marlon Brando.
The Japanese master Akira Kurosawa, himself one of the greatest directors who ever lived, put it in words that have never been bettered: “To not see the cinema of Ray is to exist in a world without seeing the sun or the moon.”
Meryl Streep said of Ray’s sensitive portrayal of women on screen: “I have no doubt that if Ray were working in Hollywood, he would prove to be a tough competition for the likes of Sir David Lean, Francis Ford Coppola and Sir Alan Parker.”
In 2024, Forbes included Ray on its list of the 30 greatest film directors of all time, ranking him eighth – ahead of Federico Fellini and Orson Welles – and noted his influence on directors including Akira Kurosawa, Francis Ford Coppola and Christopher Nolan.
Read also | Satyajit Ray’s Aranyer Din Ratri returns to the big screen in a 4K restored print
Closer to home, his influence has shaped filmmakers including Wes Anderson, Martin Scorsese, James Ivory, François Truffaut and Christopher Nolan. In India, his quiet, humanistic way of storytelling opened the door for generations of filmmakers who wanted to say something real, rather than something loud.
Ray died on April 23, 1992. But his words—like his films—remain far beyond the reach of anyone who wants to diminish them. Sonnet 4.6
