BANERJEE’S PASSAGE TO HOLLYWOOD

Victor Banerjee, who won worldwide acclaim for his portrayal of the obsequious Dr. Aziz in “A Passage to India,” can be seen in a thoroughly contrasting role in Satyajit Ray’s splendid “The Home and the World” at the Cineplex.

But he won’t be happy till he’s cracked Hollywood. “I’d love to work for Coppola or Scorsese,” he said, in town for the opening of the Ray film. “I wish William Wyler were alive so I could work for him. When I think of Wyler, that’s Hollywood to me.”

Banerjee was chatting by the pool of the fine English-style Hancock Park home where he is staying. An aristocratic man of 38, he was dressed for the weather in a simple white cotton Indian garment, a long shirt over pants. Only the night before he had arrived from Florida, where he spent a week as a judge in the Miss Universe contest.

Banerjee, whose wife and two daughters are on holiday at home in India, has already spent a six-month sojourn here, feeling that he could afford to take the time off. The prestige of “A Passage to India” opened doors, but it brought encouragement rather than offers.

“You have so many creative people in this country that I feel I wasted six months in not being able to inspire them. But eventually I’ll be able to convince people I can play other than Indians--I’m sure of it. What I need now is something of no artistic value whatsoever but with mass appeal, but I hope I won’t have to stoop to the ‘Porky’s’ level!” Meanwhile, Banerjee can look forward to making two films written by Ray and directed by his son, the first of which begins next month, and a BBC series in the offing. He can console himself with the acclaim already accruing for his portrayal of Rabindranath Tagore’s hero, an ill-fated, socially conscious Bengali rajah of the early 20th Century.

In “The Home and the World,” the rajah Banerjee plays is caught between a wife he’s insisted on freeing from purdah and his best friend, a dilettante revolutionary who’s dazzled her, both politically and romantically.

“It’s the best thing that will ever be offered to me in the Indian cinema,” said the actor, who won India’s President’s Medal for his performance. “He is the greatest character Tagore ever created--in fact, he’s the young Tagore himself. He’s an introspective person, highly educated, and the only rajah in the area who looked after his people.”

Many who see this highly ambiguous and subtle film, the realization of a 30-year dream on the part of Ray, may wonder why the rajah didn’t from the first prevent his friend from fomenting a revolution that could only harm rather than help the poor--and why he also didn’t try to stem his wife’s infatuation with his friend.

“The husband is not naive at all,” Banerjee explained. “It wouldn’t have been the gentlemanly thing to do to interfere with the activities of your friend, to whom you have extended hospitality. Now that’s very Indian. Not interfering with his wife, hoping she will come to see what the friend is for herself--that’s very British. Tagore said: ‘My wings have left no trace in the sky, but thank God I have flown.’ ” To Banerjee the remark describes the husband’s attitude perfectly. “He would never have changed anything, he would not ever have wanted his wife not to ‘fly.’ ”

To prepare for the part, he spent three months singing Tagore’s 1,000 songs and reading all his poetry. “Playing Aziz was a cakewalk in comparison to the rajah. This role meant so much to me. I haven’t thrown it off, and I don’t think I ever will. It struck so many chords in my own background.

“I come from one of the Raj families in Bengal. The living room in the estate in the film is a replica of our own living room. My maternal grandfather had grapes flown in from Persia, his laundry done in Paris. No one went to a hospital in our family; the top doctors in India came to us. To go to a hospital for an operation would have been like going to a public lavatory; it was not done. When my grand uncle died in June--he was the last member of our family who had any sort of aura about him--he died at home, having had all sorts of hospital equipment brought to his home at enormous expense. And when my mother was married, there were six English sergeants guarding all the jewels that had been given to her as wedding gifts.”

Banerjee’s fondest memories are of his maternal grandfather, with whom he spent his vacations from school. “Before dinner, which would be at 10, he would have a ball of opium brought to him on a gold spoon, along with a glass of milk, and he would smoke his hookah, having smoked about 100 Camels during the day. We would sit at a table for 30--viceroys had dined there--just the two of us, and he would tell me wonderful limericks that he devised, and wonderful stories that I realized later were all from Shakespeare.

“It was a wonderful upbringing, and I was terribly spoiled as his only grandchild. I also had two bodyguards, just in case some other branch of the family might want to get rid of me and inherit my grandfather’s fortune. I could have whatever I wanted. Once I wanted a complete outfit of fur--and got it, despite our 100-degree, 99%-humidity weather! Once he had the owner of a weapons store open his shop on Sunday just so he could buy an air gun I wanted.

“In 1960 he died, and we had to sell off most of the estate to pay the death duties. My grandmother had probably never seen money before, so people came and paid next to nothing for all the Satsuma vases, the carved ivory pieces and the crystal, which years later I realized were Lalique.

“My grandparents had no knowledge of the value of anything; somebody else had always done the buying for them. If you praised anything in their home, you could be sure it would be waiting for you in your car when you left.”

Today, he describes his family as “not wanting” even if its days of glory are gone forever--and adds that he still has his grandfather’s gold opium spoon.

Although Banerjee credits the “Irish brothers” for teaching him to act, sing and dance in the private school he attended, he spent his 20s as an executive with the Peninsular & Orient Group, the venerable ocean-liner company and hotel chain. He was the company’s sales manager for North America, living in New York, when he found he couldn’t resist auditioning for an Off-Broadway musical called “Tanya,” based on the experiences of Patricia Hearst. It was early in 1976, he recalled.

“I’d always acted, and I missed it so much. That audition was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. We all sat in this tiny foyer all painted black. I saw these people with so much talent, all sweating to get parts. When it was my turn, I had to admit that I had no material prepared, so I sang ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco.’ Two days later I was told I had the part--but I had no Equity number. Two months later I resigned from the P & O.”

In 1977 Banerjee made his film debut in Ray’s “The Chess Players,” a tale of 19th-Century India; later wrote and directed his own film and played Jesus in “Godspell,” which became, he said, the most successful musical ever staged in India. Conquering Broadway, he admitted, means even more to him than conquering Hollywood.

“I’d retire tomorrow if I could do a Broadway musical,” he said. “It’s my ultimate dream.”