Snow Leopard

A film crew travels to a remote area of Tibet to document that a snow leopard has entered a sheep enclosure, killed nine bucks and is still in it, threatening the rest of the herd. On the way, they pick up the budding monk and member of the affected Tsetsen Tashi family. He is considered a "snow leopard" monk because he is fascinated by the animals and pursues them - at least with his camera. The owner of the flock of sheep is totally upset and wants to kill the predator, but is persuaded to call in the regional authorities first and then the police - both of course occupied by Chinese. And with them he rattles against each other - up to physical arguments - since the animals are of course strictly protected. Meanwhile, the monk comes into contact with the snow leopard in dream-like sequences and a member of the film team is also infected by the fascination for the animal. Both try to calm the situation ... . ... so different, so beautiful; You immerse yourself in a completely different culture, the differences between occupiers and occupied are obvious, but the Tibetans are never showed as victims. They know very well how to defend themselves. And in the end, it's the spiritual component of the film that fascinates - including the mostly very convincingly CGI-animated snow leopard.

There can be no religious experience without a deep empathy with creation. That's what one thinks of upon leaving this extraordinary film directed by Pema Tseden, a Tibetan filmmaker and writer who died of heart problems in May 2023. This is his penultimate film, and it tells the story of a shepherd who has locked a snow leopard in his sheep pen and, overnight, slashed the throat of nine of them. Now the shepherd threatens to kill the leopard if he is not compensated. Opposed to his decision, however, are the old father (representative of the traditional values of Tibetan culture) and his younger brother, a young monk, who offer what they hold most dear (the father all the money set aside for a pilgrimage to Lhasa with his monk son, the latter his precious camera, with which he loves to photograph animals, and in a dream scene his own life) for the animal's safety. Finally, even the authorities arrive to reiterate that the animal must be freed because it is protected by law. The film, for its emotional intensity and deep spirituality, stands out as the best feature film seen at this 80th Venice Film Festival. Also beautiful are the two dream scenes of the young monk, shot in splendid black and white, where the relationship between man and animal becomes so profound that we can glimpse the Creator behind his creatures, when (as in this case) the lives of man and animal manage to interpenetrate with such sublime harmony. Unmissable.

That was one majestic cat.

There are some surreal moments of communicating with the beast that lead me to think there is some deeper spiritual meaning here about harmony and communing with nature and probably Buddhist teachings. There is some wonky CGI but honestly I didn't mind it that much, it's clear that some of it is plain surreal and the stuff of dreams. I doubt a leopard could carry a full grown man on its back, even if it wanted to. But the monk's relationship with this particular beast and the scene at the end when it feels like it's apologizing were very touching. I'm a sucker for cats anyway. You wouldn't catch me near the big ones, but I love watching them from a safe distance.

And I love movies set in remote rural communities. It feels, looks and sounds authentic. So I enjoyed that very much. Maybe less so how the wife is treated but it's expected of such communities sadly.

There's some subtle commentary about modern society mercilessly encroaching on these people's lives and the Chinese erasing Tibetan customs and identity, but at the same time watching them marvel at a video on a laptop and getting giddy over cake, so you know, win some, lose some...

Snow Leopard is an arthouse drama that meditates on the subject of animal preservation. It presents a deep poetic exploration into the transcendental from a Tibetan context. It is the final film of writer-director Pema Tseden, who passed away last year before the film's release.

Set in a village in the deep Tibetan mountains, a snow leopard sneaks into a sheep pen and kills 9 sheep.

Jinpa, a local shepherd, locks the snow leopard in his sheep pen and vows to kill the snow leopard unless there's financial compensation for his loss.

As an endangered species, the snow leopard is protected under environmental protection law and killing it is considered a major crime.

Nyima, Jinpa's brother, tips off his former classmate Dradul, a TV reporter, who arrives with a TV crew to cover the incident.

Having past encounters with the snow leopard and acting out of Buddhist faith, Nyima is against killing the animal. Nyima's father is also against the killing, viewing the snow leopard as a spirit animal, and that it used to be a cultural tradition to set the creature free.

As the family and the TV crew wait for the authorities to arrive, they argue over what to do with the snow leopard...

Writer-director Pema Tseden dives into the uncanny, suggesting that there's an unspoken relationship between man and animals. Is there a mutual balance between the species, or perhaps even a long-forgotten friendship? There's even a suggestion of humanity within the snow leopard itself.

Tseden communicates these rich fanciful ideas with earnestness, patiently easing the audience into the Tibetan perspective, examining the problem through tradition, modernity, law, religion and money. Slowly, the film pulls you into its spiritual head space.

As Jinpa explains in the story, the snow leopard usually eats 1 to 2 sheep, which he willingly tolerates as an acceptable loss. Why did the snow leopard kill 9 sheep this particular time? Was this an act of rage or a final battle cry from being the last of its species? Did the snow leopard cross the line because humans crossed the line first?

I was reminded of the divisive dinosaur scene from Terrence Malick's Tree of Life. It's a scene that I understood intellectually but didn't feel in the gut viscerally. Perhaps Malick simply made his point too quickly.

Tseden inherently understands the screen time required in making such a profound statement and not coming off pretentious. Tseden's greatest talent, in my opinion, is letting the audience sit there, observe and soak it all in with no fear of boring them.

Pema Tseden will be sorely missed. There's a universality to how he presents Tibetan culture in his films with such poetry and beauty.