O Ladrão de Cavalos

A fascinating window into the world of Tibetan tribal life. Beautifully shot with stunning locations. The narrative is a little weak, but makes up for it visually. One draw back is a few scenes of animal cruelty. These images are what stayed with me most and unfortunately let down the movie.

This is a movie about human beings living in the stark and pitiless land of Tibet. Tibetans have a clear if not too numerous a presence in North India and I always felt deeply curious about these strangers from a land not too distant yet strange and mysterious. My first memories of these people are of tattered nomads moving in groups. Today they are educated, vocal and have prospered economically on Indian soil.The present film is like a response to an inborn craving to visit this land.

It is set in 1923, thus steering clear of political controversies in China, of which Tibet is now a part. Tibet is the highest plateau in the world, with an average altitude of 16,000 feet. Going by this film, it also seems the most wind blown place. The mists are always floating swiftly away and the pennants planted near temples fluttering noisily like an array of weathercocks. I cannot remember any movie with such splendor of cinematography, not even David Lean at his best. It is a world of transcendent beauty. There is nothing of the picture postcard tailor's dummy prettiness. The azure mountains, snow deserts and water bodies live and breathe as though with the presence of stern deities. The musical score , comprising natural sounds, muffled incantations and a continuous drone punctuated with funereal beats of percussion unspoken script or reverent commentary on this extra terrestrial world.

Norbu is a poor member of a nomadic tribe. He has a wife and small boy to support. Though devout he is forced into stealing horses for survival. He is expelled from his group under sentence of amputation if he should return. The film follows his journey through different regions in the course of which he loses his son to disease and sires another one. Religion and ceremonies dominate the life of these simple minded and plainspoken folk. Probably they need this belief as a necessity in their lives with death and starvation constantly dangling over them. Norbu is a god fearing person and it is only to save his offspring from the jaws of starvation that he is driven to stealing. He contributes a good part of his "earnings" to the temple.

Both the mood and the score is reminiscent of Tarkovsky's Stalker. These snow blown mountains and deserts are also inhabited by a mysterious presence hinting at realities other than the familiar. The word mesmeric applied to this film is not a cliché but an accurate description of it's power.

At the end of the day, people are the same--in Tibet, Calcutta or in the US.

Set in 1923 against the breathtaking Tibetan landscape, The Horse Thief describes the retribution visited upon a clan member who is stealing horses. With minimal plot or dialogue, it is essentially a meditation on the Tibetan's struggle for survival in a harsh and uncompromising environment. The film dramatizes both the everyday occurrences and the religious rituals that are part of the fabric of Tibetan life.

The simple tale involves Norbu (Rigzin Tseshang), a member of a clan, who is accused of stealing horses and temple goods to support his wife Dolma (Jiji Dan) and their adored young son Tashi (Jamco Jayang). To keep the clan cleansed of evil, Norbu and his family are ostracized and banished to assume the life of wanderers. Norbu and his family leave the clan but do not renounce their faith. Appealing for divine intervention to keep them alive, the family engages in Buddhist rituals such as turning the prayer wheels, masked ceremonial dances, and prostration to Buddha.

Ultimately, their nomadic existence takes a grim personal toll. At the point of starvation, Norbu has to eat the newly fallen snow to give him strength, and is forced to resume stealing to save his family from the cold winter. The conclusion is stunning in its elemental power.

Though I was deeply moved by Tian's despairing vision and awed by the film's gorgeous cinematography, I found The Horse Thief to be quite demanding to watch. The film moves very slowly with long, static shots during which the camera remains fixed for several minutes. Also, being unfamiliar with Tibetan culture, I sought more explanation of the significance of some rituals, for example, the grazing of sacred sheep and the dances using ceremonial masks. I feel, however, that The Horse Thief transcends specific cultural limitations and achieves a universal quality in its depiction of the importance of faith and the strength of family.

I would have liked to have seen The Horse Thief in the theater, and hear it spoken in the original Tibetan language (it was dubbed into Mandarin). Nonetheless, I am grateful for having received this authentic insight into Tibetan culture, something that is uncommon in these days of Chinese occupation. Watching this film was almost a furtive experience, like stealing a glimpse into a beautiful and haunting secret world and rediscovering what it means to be human.

I found out about this film via Mark Cousin's well regarded "The Story of Film: an Odyssey", when he outlined some of the strongest features of the 80s.

The Horse Thief is a strikingly shot immersion into the unique, isolated and overwhelmingly spiritual culture of traditional Tibet, a country of snow laden plains and remote agrarian village life.

The nominal plot focuses on Norbu, a thief who is excommunicated from his tribe, to live in the harsh Tibetan hinterlands with this wife and child. Even his elders disdain him, and appear to show no sympathy for his crimes.

The tribe worships a local mountain deity for providence, but during an outbreak of disease many animals and family members suffer, some terminally. Norbu's family is allowed back into tribal society although his penalty is death, and there appears to be no alternative in the mid winter Tibetan snowfields.

The film's plot is almost overshadowed by the cinematography and focus on Tibetan civilization; their religious rites, celebrations, trading and working life all feature throughout. Parts of the "story" are presented as a dreamy montage of dancers, elemental images and Tibetan masks, with Buddhist themes of death and rebirth enacted by the cast, which is one of the exceptionally interesting things about the movie.

Its not really an epic film, and the actual scripted dialogue is pretty sparse, but worth seeing especially if you have a projector or similar large-screen display.

After hearing Martin Scorsese declare Horse Thief as the #1 film of the 90s (actually released in 1987) when co-hosting the annual "Best of" show with Roger Ebert, I set out to see this film. Luckily, there was a copy available in the library. Unfortunately, the library would not allow me to take it home. So, I was stuck watching this film on a 10 inch screen television in a cramped cubicle with uncomfortable headphones crushing my ears. Obviously, this was not the way that Tian intended his film to be viewed.

Tian Zhuangzhuang's third feature, Horse Thief, is essentially dialogue-free and is rather slim on plot. The film is reminiscent of the silent-era when directors were capable of manipulating the camera to communicate their desired idea. Basically, the film centers on the banishment of Norbu (forcefully personified by Rigzin Tseshang in an astonishing debut), a local horse thief, and his wife and son. Norbu gives up stealing horses for his wife and sets out to find a more respectable profession. When times get rough, Norbu is confronted with the reality that he must steal again to save his family from the harsh, unforgiving winter.

Tian's film has a striking realistic quality to it that plays like a documentary. In one scene, we are given the chance to watch a ritualistic ceremony designed to please the mountain god. While this scene evokes awe, some scenes may be seen as quite offensive. For example, Norbu comes up behind an unsuspecting lamb and slits its throat. The viewer is forced to watch the animal writhe and thrash agonizingly struggling for its last breaths. This scene, although I cannot deny its accuracy and technical beauty, is distressing to watch. The reality of this scene is not achieved through use of mechanical animals and fake blood; it is achieved by the actual killing of a lamb for the production of this film. Aside from this painfully unpleasant section, Tian's cinematic mastery is thoroughly evident.

Because of the deficient viewing conditions, I was only able to catch a glimpse of Tian's overwhelmingly glorious cinematography: Norbu dolefully places his son's dead body in the middle of a snow-covered meadow for the gods to take. In deep focus, the camera slowly reveals Norbu's utter aloneness and emptiness. In this one shot, Tian has created cinematic perfection.