Saw The River, an American film set in India. The protagonists are Americans of some kind. The film is incredibly beguiling. It opens on the festival of lights and closes on the festival of colors. The meaning behind the festivals is vaguely dismissed as being "about some old battle" but then such is the indifference of the 1950s viewer (and, not to be blunt, but today's viewer as well.) Anyway, the film is one of those sincere, strident films about life going on. It's a coming of age film where the female protagonist falls in love with a wounded captain much her senior. He is introduced in voice-over by the protagonist as running away from the world. A hero whom the world has stopped caring about. This romantic description makes us pity and love him.
The protagonist vies for the captains attention, against the charms of other girls. His colossal impact on their lives and total indifference to their attention mirrors the impact and indifference of the Americans to the Indian natives. The film is not preachy about this (indeed I suspect I may have made it up) but is instead very gentle and calm. Life always moves on. The river serves as a symbol for the endless, purifying, onrushing flow of time. The film is terribly romantic and terribly sincere. It's a bit uncomfortable at parts, but is quite progressive for its time (one of the romantic rivals is actually an Indian woman. This is not treated as terribly shocking or amazing. For context, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner came out in 1967 and certainly considered itself to be edgy as fuck.) A comfy, tourist-y movie. A sweet movie.
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