Kundun

Though I see a lot of films (usually 100+ in theaters per year), I can't say that I'm much of a student of films. I go to be entertained and/or moved. And Kundun moved me in a way I don't think has ever happened before.

I saw the film in the multiplex in Phipps Plaza, probably Atlanta's most upscale shopping mall. At the end of the film, when I walked out the theater exit into the mall, I was emotionally stunned. Scorsese had hypnotized me into the world of Bhuddist simplicity and wonder. Seeing the activity and commercialism (which I normally love) of the mall was a shock.

Peter Weir once said: "The true test of it is when you come out of a picture and you can't remember whether it was day or night when you came in." I think that barely remembering what country I was in shows that for me, this film passes that "true test".

Kundun was beautifully done, adding true portrayals of the practices of the Tibetan Buddhists - their chants, artwork, dances and costumes. Also, Philip Glass did a wonderful job with the soundtrack- combining the sound of damarus, ghantas, conch-shells and mantras with his own unique sound. Unlike Seven Years in Tibet, Kundun concentrates on the plight of Tibet through the life of the Dalai Lama. This perspective allows for the audience to realize the ideals and morals that define the people of Tibet, through the eyes and life experiences of their own chosen leader. Focusing on a character other than the Dalai Lama allows for too many distractions within the plot of the movie, especially when the script for Kundun was taken from a biography of His Holiness. This film employs most of the senses in order to allow the audience a fuller understanding of the Dalai Lama, his people, and their struggle against the Chinese. Kundun may be lengthy, but it is well worth the time.

I was very pleased to discover that this film wasnt the Scorcese dud some of the user comments and critics had suggested it to be. While I am no expert on Buddhism, I know enough about it to see how brilliantly Martin Scorcese and Melissa Mathison weaved the core philosophy into this tale of the Dalai Lama's formative years. They did it without succumbing to ostentation, sentimentality, or populist good vs evil film dramatics. And yet it showed us how human the child was--laughing as the monks meditated while a rat drank the ritual offerings; being frightened in the dark monastery; taking on the very great responsibility of leading a truly wise, noble and compassionate religion while being confronted by the threats of the modern world. I appreciated how they didnt portray the Chinese as simple villians--by including the scene where he dreams the army personnel are explaining to him why they embrace Mao's communism. And they also presented enough of the Buddhist ritual and way of life to show us how alien it is to western religions(the scene where they cut up the body for the vultures comes to mind), though they dont gloss it over by excluding comments about the Lama's isolation and loss of childhood or the corruption surrounding his first Regent. It was also quite moving to observe the devotion of his monks and people.

Scorcese really demonstrates here that he is a true film artist and master storyteller. I wholeheartedly concur with the commentator that compared this film to the Last Emperor--despite similar story frames and lengths, this motion picture doesnt drag at all. If this had been say, Steven Spielberg's project you would have expected to see some manipulative melodramatics and insincerity. And how can one not be impressed by the performances he got out of mostly non actors! That alone was amazing. The film maintained its pace from the early years to the Lama as an adult. From what little of the man I have seen on tv, his humor, and wisdom was conveyed remarkably well by Mathison's script and the actors chosen for the role.

Finally, his comment to the Indian guard near the end after being asked if he was the Lord Buddha--encapsulates the wisdom and the humility of its spiritual leader perfectly.

I think I am well versed in Buddhism to say that, contrary to the majority opinion, this is a superficial smattering of a wonderful practice. I don't know whose fault it is, certainly Scorsese's though he is an outsider so that is sort of to be expected. I suspect the Dalai Lama's circle were fine with a superficially romantic portrayal, so long as it generates awareness for their just cause.

Why do I say this?

The main narrative device that gives this any sort of shape (otherwise it is one long picture-pretty rambling), is the DL meditating in exile, possibly at that balcony at the Indian border, possibly at a much later time. This would be in line with the recurring motifs of prescient visions and the spyglass (looking from a distance) which is first introduced right after the screening of a silent film (the association is with memory, illusions and time gone - all things to purify the mind from in meditation).

This would somewhat excuse the fragmentary nature of the narrative and quaint focus of it on young boy versus evil empire of millions, since it was all experienced from his end. Somewhat. It is still absolutely tepid as a historic film if we switch to the 'objective' pov. Now, this last segment of the crossing to India is accompanied by the one powerful visual meditation in the film, it is not mentioned but what you see is the Kalachakra initiation with the Great Sand Mandala being constructed and brushed away, a powerful and sacred occasion.

Get it? This is it, this one moment. The DL is heartbroken and his courage waning, and lost in meditation, he finds peace in reminding himself of the transience of all things, which is what the ritual represents and a core Buddhist precept, the cosmos being washed away back into river-sand. The entire rest of the film is a pageant; oracles hiss, rituals go on, dances, ornate ceremonies, hushed whispers of banality.

Scorsese mistakes here the theater of appearances (the religion) for the essence. He films the ritual as the thing-in-itself, as spectacle, instead of as the space that allows you to cultivate a compassionate mind. The postcard instead of the real spiritual landscape.

How rich this would be if, for instance, we had contrasts between flows of remembered ordinary life and abstractions in three- and twodimensional space in the dances and mandala, and all of that (all the costumes, the ceremonies, the symbols and human suffering) understood as different sides of one image -empty- brushed away as the mind heals itself. I am in awe of the possibilities!

No dice. Scorsese films operatic platitudes.

Skip this if you want to know Buddhism. Go straight for Why Did Bodhidharma Left for the East? or even Herzog's Buddhist doc, which he also filmed around the Kalachakra. Blowup, if you want deep, incidentally Buddhist essaying on the roots of suffering.

"Kundun" is Martin Scorsese's most underrated film. It's something quite fantastic to watch such an amazing film about the early years of the Dalai Lama and the plight of Tibetan Buddhists knowing that it comes from a man who has long wrestled with his own religious ghosts (witness the still hotly debated conundrum that is his "Last Temptation of Christ"). With probably only "The Age of Innocence" to compare to in Scorsese's now hallowed canon, "Kundun" is a breathtaking work of art--visually sumptuous (with beautiful work from cinematographer Roger Deakins), hauntingly transcendental, and deeply symbolic.

As an outsider looking in, Scorsese manages to create an intimate level of detail that someone who lives and breathes Buddhism might have overlooked. Many rituals and practices are presented exactly as they are with no attempts to explain their purpose or translate their meaning to Western culture. This allows them to keep their rich symbolism, which translates perfectly to Scorsese's visual palette. From the rich colors of meditative sand art to the bright red blood spilled during China's unlawful occupation of Tibet, everything takes on a deeper meaning that leaves much to the imagination and higher mind.

Wisely, Scorsese follows the same template of Richard Attenborough's equally resonating Oscar winning epic "Ghandi" by adapting a straight forward approach to his presentation of the Dalai Lama's most tumultuous years. Except for a few dreamlike vision sequences, he stays mostly out of the man's head, and instead shows his power through his actions and dedication to his people and the practice of non-violence. "Kundun" is as near perfect a biopic as one can make.