Submitted by Bhutan: The Monk and the Gun

America ought to pursue closer ties with Bhutan, considering their long history of border disputes with Communist China and their cultural and religious affinity with occupied Tibet. Traditionally, the nation has been isolationist. They do not have official diplomatic relations with many countries, including the U.S. and both Chinas (but we do have “friendly” consular relations). That said, this American arriving on mysterious business is probably not the best person to bring our countries closer, especially as he pursues the titular robed Buddhist in director-screenwriter Pawo Choyning Dorji’s The Monk and the Gun, one of 15 films shortlisted for the Best International Film Oscar, which opens today in New York.

Much to his bafflement, Tashi’s abbot requests he obtain two guns by the next full moon. That would be in four days. This will be a tall order in the isolated and overwhelmingly Buddhist nation, even though they are in the process of modernizing.

Indeed, 2006 was a confusing time for many traditional Bhutan citizens. The King has voluntarily abdicated, setting the stage for the nation’s first democratic elections. Since campaigning is new to everyone, the King scheduled a “Mock Election,” to familiarize voters with the process. It is Tshering Yangden’s job to register voters in Tshomo’s village. Unfortunately, Tshomo already knows plenty about the upcoming election. Her husband has dramatically broken with the rest of her family to support a candidate advocating greater industrialization. Nevertheless, the village assigned her to serve as Yangden’s assistant.

Meanwhile, Ron Coleman (possibly a sly reference to Ronald Colman, the star of Lost Horizon?) arrives on a strange mission. He has traced an extremely rare Civil War-era rifle to Bhutan. He is willing to pay top dollar for it, but if a monk like Tashi requests it, the devout hardscrabble owner could never refuse him.

Monk and the Gun captures a fascinating and possibly unprecedented period in history, in which an absolute monarch voluntarily relinquished power and established a democratic system of government that almost none of his countrymen demanded. Dorji evokes the mood of uncertainty quite vividly. Viewers also get a sense of Bhutan’s isolation and its striking, but lonely natural vistas.

CIFF ’22: Crows are White

If Ahsen Nadeem had set out to make a film about the Dalai Lama, His Holiness would have made him feel like the most import person in the world during his interview. Instead, he set out to document Kamahori, a monk from an unusually severe and spartan Japanese monastery on Mount Hiei, who cannot talk to him because of his vow of silence—and probably wouldn’t have given him the time of day, if he could. However, there is one frustrated, heavy metal-listening monk who will talk to him. Regardless, Nadeem certainly needs a good talking-to throughout his documentary, Crows are White, which screens during the 2022 Camden International Film Festival.

Nadeem is personally conflicted, because he loves a non-Muslim woman, whom he will soon marry, but he is afraid to tell his strict Islamic parents (who happen to live in Ireland). As he pursues the silent Kamahori, viewers soon suspect he is really trying to divert himself from his real and pressing problems. To some extent, he finds an understanding friend in Ryushin, a low-level monk stuck with all the monastery’s most mundane duties. For Ryushin, monastic life is a family tradition. He is frustrated in his desire to do good works, but cannot leave while his parents are still alive.

After Nadeem marries his fiancée and three years pass, it becomes obvious he is really the subject of his film. Initially, Nadeem does not inspire confidence as either a subject or a filmmaker. Honestly, I hereby absolve anyone who checks out after his cellphone starts ringing during one of the monk’s most physically demanding ceremonies. Seriously, that kind of unprofessionalism is just disrespectful. However, those who stick it out, might start to warm to Nadeem, if they accept him as a serial screw-up.

Looking for a Lady with Fangs and a Moustache

Nepal is one of the few places left where the physical and spiritual worlds still intersect—but just barely. Tenzin is a secular Tibetan musician, aspiring coffeehouse owner, and general would-be wheeler-dealer, but karma could have it in for him. According to a Buddhist monk, he only has a week to live, unless he can find a mythical Dakini to intercede on his behalf. However, it is hard for a sceptic like Tenzin to find something that is everywhere and nowhere in screenwriter-director Khyentse Norbu’s Looking for a Lady with Fangs and a Moustache, which releases virtually this Friday, following a special live-stream premiere hosted by the Rubin Museum of Art tomorrow night.

Tenzin can play the traditional Tibetan songs, but his heart is not in it. He prefers to socialize with Kathmandu’s Western expats, who he hopes will patronize the coffeehouse he plans to open. Thanks to a long run of bad luck, the process has been unexpectedly rocky and his ultimate goal remains in doubt. His more devout friend Jachung refers him to the Monk Oracle, who perceives it is not mere ill fortune plaguing Tenzin. He has lost his lha (moral center, if you will) and his days are numbered: probably to seven. Only a dakini can help him now.

Dakinis are known as mortal manifestations of the Buddhist feminine ideal, who have supernatural powers. Supposedly, they also have fangs, and moustache, and maybe even a third eye, but they are also considered strikingly beautiful. Once he recognizes one, he must convince her to extend her protection over him, but the whole process makes Tenzin feel foolish.

Looking was lensed by the master cinematographer Mark Lee Ping-Bing, so you know it looks amazing, but it isn’t just lovely images. Norbu’s story has just enough supernatural elements to make it enormously intriguing, but it remains appealingly rooted in the everyday life of Kathmandu. Frankly, it looks like this should be the next big expat destination. You get a sense of its spirit of community, but there also seem to be opportunities to be had there. Plus, the temples and surrounding landscapes are enormously cinematic.

DOC NYC ’18: A Little Wisdom

It is sort of like the Buddhist Garden of Eden, except it really exists. At least you can visit the Sacred Garden of Lumbini in Nepal, where Lord Buddha was born. Rather logically, the pilgrimage site is home to a number of monasteries, including this one dedicated to training young potential novice monks. Yuqi Kang follows five-year-old Hopakuli as he goes about his cloistered life in A Little Wisdom (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 DOC NYC.

The young children in this unidentified monastery are under no obligation to take their vows once they come of age. They are free to leave whenever they want, but where would they go? Most have been left in the monks’ care by desperately poor families, both to ease their financial burdens and so the young boys can enjoy better food and living conditions. In fact, most of the novices readily concede their lives are much easier in the monastery than they were back home.

Unfortunately, life is still tough for Hopakuli. Even though the boys are wearing robes, they still do all the rotten things you would expect from ordinary kids. In this case, they bully Hopakuli because he is the youngest. Frankly, his older brother Chorten is one of the worst offenders. In many ways, Vija is more of a brotherly figure to Hopakuli, but the fifteen-year-old is approaching a crossroads, when he will have to decide if he will stay or return to secular life.

Many viewers expecting something serene and meditative in the tradition of Walk with Me will be utterly shocked to find it is more of a cross between Kundun and Lee Hirsch’s Bully [Project], which, ever so awkwardly in retrospect, was distributed by the Weinstein Company. Poor Hopakuli is just a kid, who really is not that bratty for his age, so he really deserves a break.

Nevertheless, Kang and her co-cinematographers, Amitabh Joshi and Paola Ochoa, vividly capture the hushed vibe and tranquil surrounding environment of Lumbini. Clearly, she developed a high degree of trust with the young novices, because they obliviously forget she was filming when they really start to let Hopakuli have it. Yet, there are hopefully moments too. To her credit, Kang has also been quite fair to the monks, especially in her publicity interviews. Seriously, if you think you can do a better job sustaining a monastery full of kids in a remote corner of Nepal than you’re welcome to try.

A Little Wisdom will definitely transport viewers to Lumbini, but it is not the transcendentally immersive experience many patrons will be hoping for. Yet, they will find a bit of that wisdom therein, if they look for it. Recommended for viewers intrigued by monasticism and exotic locales, especially on a full-sized theater screen, A Little Wisdom has its New York premiere today (11/10), as part of DOC NYC, ahead of its arrival on iTunes scheduled for 11/20.

DWF ’18: Gatha (short)

The despoilment of the nation of Tibet is not merely an environmental tragedy. It also holds religious implications, due to the sacred status of the nation’s many natural wonders. Mount Kangrinboqê is a perfect example. The Himalayan peak is a frequent pilgrimage destination for believers of the Buddhist, Bon, Hindu, and Jain faiths. Two brothers will embark on the arduous trek in director-choreographer-screenwriter Tang Chenglong’s visually arresting and symbolically resonant short film, Gatha (trailer here), which screens today as part of the Spotlight: China! sidebar at this year’s Dances With Films.

As the two brothers slowly prostrate themselves towards Kangrinboqê, we can see the grubby modern world started to intrude on Tibet’s pristine mountains and valleys. However, from a pilgrim’s perspective, the landscape is still wild and unforgiving. They will traverse deserts, forests, and mountain ranges on their pilgrimage. Along the way, they also express the ecstatic joy of their faith through dance. Yet, there will also be sorrow, because that is very much a part of the cycle of life.

Geng Zibo and Chen Shifei dance with the striking strength and physicality, but their grace is just as evident. They are well-served by Tang’s dynamic choreography, which incorporates elements of martial arts and hip hop, but also expresses delight and wonder. Somehow, it evokes ancient mysticism, while still looking really cool and sleekly modern. Geng and Chen perform in natural settings that would dwarf most performers, but they still command the stage. Nevertheless, the staggering power of the Tibetan locales cannot and will not be denied.

Gatha is essentially an allegory, but it is deeply moving. It is also a sensory feast and a superb technical package, with special credit clearly due to “executive director” A Luo, who is also credited with the aerial photography and some of the camera work. This is one of the most ambitious and rewarding dance films in years, but it also serves as a timely reminder of what is at risk in occupied Tibet. Very highly recommended, Gatha screens this afternoon, as part of the Spotlight: Kids from China short film program, during the 2018 Dances With Films.

Kazuo Miyagawa at Japan Society: The Devil’s Temple

If it were so easy to “sever the bondage of earthly desires,” than everyone would be doing it, right? Thanks to the Buddha’s teachings, a high priest from Kyoto managed to do exactly that—at least for a while. However, a disgraced noble turned outlaw was easy pickings for a demonic temptress. If she can also corrupt the priest, it would represent the metaphysical victory of evil over good. Although essentially a four-character chamber play, the stakes are unusually high throughout Kenji Misumi’s The Devil’s Temple, which screens during the Japan Society’s retrospective, Kazuo Miyagawa: Japan’s Greatest Cinematographer.

After the loss of his fortune and the dissolution of his clan, Mumyo no Taro became rather wayward. His long-suffering wife Kaede has tracked him down to the ruined temple, where he has been living in sin with his shameless mistress, Aizen. Kaede expected he would obediently return to her out of shame, but instead, the illicit lovers brazenly carry on in the main chamber, while she camps out in an anteroom.

Kaede hopes salvation arrives when a traveling high priest stops to rest at the temple. He hopes to talk Mumyo back onto the straight and narrow. However, he also gently calls out Kaede for the perverse pride she takes in her martyrdom. Unfortunately, Aizen is more dangerous than he initially assumes, but he will start to get the picture when he realizes she is his destructive former lover. Of course, she is determined to drag him back down into the carnal depths, whereas he hopes to lead Kaede and Mumyo toward righteousness through his example of resistance.

Even though there are no genre elements per se in Temple, the suggestively demonic nature of Aizen is profoundly unsettling. Frankly, Hawthorne could have easily related to both its vibe and marquee conflict, yet the character and flavor of the film are distinctly Buddhist. It is also a dramatic example of how evocative sets and general mise-en-scene can help foster a mood of foreboding. Plus, Miyagawa’s lensing is surprisingly dynamic for a more-or-less one-set four-hander. When the action strays the temple, he gives it a disorienting, nightmarish look.

Showing tremendous range, Michiyo Aratama is scorchingly seductive and flamboyantly evil as Aizen, the femme fatale to beat all femme fatales. This is light years away from her heart-rending performances in The Human Condition and Kwaidan, but it might leave an even deeper impression. The legendary Hideko Takamine (looking rather ghostly herself here) is also extraordinarily nuanced and rather ambiguous as the wronged Kaede. Shintaro Katsu (Ichi-san) is a bit of a blowhard stock character as Mumyo, but Kei Sato makes the humble priest quite a distinctively cerebral hero.

This is a terrific work of Buddhist cinema that treats big-picture spiritual concepts with scrupulous seriousness. There are not a lot of films structured around temptations of the flesh, so that makes Temple quite memorable, especially since it is Aratama providing the temptation. Very highly recommended, The Devil’s Temple screens this Saturday (4/21) at Japan Society, as part of Kazuo Miyagawa: Japan’s Greatest Cinematographer.

Margaret Mead ’17: Chomo (short)

Since the Dalai Lama and the leadership of Tibetan Buddhism were forced into exile, they have spread their wisdom and faith much wider around the world than would have otherwise been possible. It has also been a two-way exchange. In recent years, educational opportunities have expanded tremendously for Tibetan Buddhist nuns, at least for those living outside Tibet. The first class of nuns are poised to take the Geshema degrees following the requisite seventeen years of study. This is an especially significant milestone for a young nun contemplating her future in Maayan Arad’s short documentary Chomo (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 Margaret Mead Film Festival.

Lobsang Chomo (“nun” in her local dialect) made the arduous journey to Dharamshala expressly so she would have educational opportunities that are not available in her native Tibet, where the Communist government insists it has the right to set policies for the religious faith. When we meet her, she has been studying in earnest for several years and has been recognized as one of her nunnery’s top doctrinal debaters. She is on track to sit for her Geshema exam (in a mere fourteen or fifteen years), but she will take time out to visit her family, now residing in a distant Northern India village, to reflect on her life choices so far.

The forty-two-minute Chomo is packed wall-to-wall with stunning visuals, but it is the charismatic Chomo who truly lights up the film. Even with her clean-shaven head, she is a stunning presence, but her wisdom and sense of humor are what really make her beautiful. Arad just quietly observes the daily goings-on at the nunnery and follows Chomo as she journeys through the wildly cinematic mountain passes on her way home. Yet, this film never feels hushed and airless like some In Great Silence-style documentaries. Instead, viewers always have the sense that a whole lot of life is happening.

We always knew Tibetan Buddhism offered more wisdom than its CP oppressors, but here is proof it is also more progressive. There might not be full parity yet, but some significant glass ceilings have been broken, quietly and philosophically. On a less optimistic note, the film also reminds us in passing of the arrest and conviction (on mystery charges) of Lobsang Jamyang, a Tibetan monk who wrote tracts advocating freedom of expression under the name Lomik. Nevertheless, Chomo is a positive, refreshingly life-affirming film. Very highly recommended, Chomo screens this Saturday (10/21) with Pixelating Holiness, as part of this year’s Margaret Mead Film Festival at the American Museum of Natural History.

The Departure: Monk, Rocker, and Angel of Mercy

Ittetsu Nemoto is the of the Zen Buddhist equivalent of Clarence the Angel from It’s a Wonderful Life, but he has a much heavier case load. In the therapeutic ritual he developed, “The Departure,” clients are invited to envision their own deaths. Nemoto has an admirably high survival rate, but it is unclear how long much longer he can endure the pace and pressure of his counseling practice. Viewers will observe Nemoto taking years off his own life as he saves others in Lana Wilson’s The Departure (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Nemoto is also much like the punker turned Buddhist priest protagonist of Naoki Katô’s Abraxas, except he is the real deal. When we first meet Nemoto, he is seeking the solace of the void in the heavy electronica music of a late-night dance club. That is where he goes when he needs to turn off his head, but the clubbing environment on top of the stress and strain of his suicide prevention work is taking a toll.

We watch Nemoto cajole and console his clients, both in person and over the phone. Frankly, he never seems particularly eloquent or deep, but it is his earnest commitment that seems to resonate with clients. Yet, the spiritual energy he consumes as part of his intervention work often leaves him tired and distant with his wife and their young son. Although the situation is not yet completely dire, Nemoto’s persistent health issues are forcing his to consider his own potential death, while he labors to convince others to say yes to life.

Like many docs that eschew narration and talking head interviews, the pace of The Departure feels a little slow at times. However, Wilson captures some remarkable images. Throughout it all, Nemoto remains a deeply compelling character. He is a priest, not a saint, but his dedication and empathy appear to be limited only by his own physical and emotional endurance.

Departure does not end with a climatic crisis, which is probably a good thing for Nemoto and his clients, but Wilson still skillfully uses one of Nemoto’s signature ceremonies to build to an emotional climax. As documentary profiles go, it is downright immersive at times. An inspiring snapshot of Zen Buddhism in action, The Departure is highly recommended for mindfulness audiences when it opens this Friday (10/13) in New York, at the Metrograph.

One Mind: Life in Harmony at Zenru Chan Monastery

The isolation of Zenru Chan Monastery on Yunju Mountain in Jiangsi province is good for the soul. It looks like the monk’s quiet way of life has been untouched for centuries, even though the building was indeed damaged by Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution. They outlasted the madness, just as they will outlast the current regime, not through active defiance, but by seeking enlightenment from within and through nature. Viewers will quietly observe the Zen Buddhist monks and experience the rhythms of their monastic life in Edward A. Burger’s observational documentary One Mind (trailer here), which has three special public screenings at the Rubin Museum of Art in New York.

If you really want to appreciate the monastery’s Zen tea, you don’t just sip it. You also help harvest the harvest the leaves. This is one of many ways the Zenru Chan monks stay connected with the earth. The monastery appears self-sufficient to a large extent, which means there are no idle hands. Of course, the whole point of living there is to lose oneself in work and meditation.

Mostly, the monks go about their business without offering any commentary, but one recent arrival having the stumble shorn from his head, explains the practice of head-shaving as a means for monks to renounce and deny their individuality. While we understand the principle, fortunately for us, many of the monks display plenty of personality, often in a cherubically enlightened kind of way, which makes them quite pleasant cinematic company.

One Mind is likely to be compared to In Great Silence and Gurukulam, the documentary following life in a Vedanta Hindu ashram (that also had an early screening at the Rubin). In each film, slow cinema and vérité filmmaking become forms of spiritual pilgrimage. One Mind is also billed as a “Buddhist documentary” rather than a “documentary about Buddhism.” There is definitely something to that, but it applies even more forcefully to the ecstatic ending of Seoungho Cho’s short documentary, Scrumped.

Viewers have reason to assume there is a large transient population at Zenru Chan, who just stay for a short time to restore their connection to nature and temporarily shut out the extraneous distractions of hyper-modernity. Yet, there seems to be a good feeling of fellowship shared by them all. That is part of what makes One Mind an aesthetically rewarding, immersive sensory experience. It is a film to take in with the eyes and ears, thanks to Burger’s own striking cinematography and the evocative natural and ambient noises modulated by sound editor Douglas Quin. Highly recommended for viewers interested in mindfulness and faith-in-practice, One Mind screens this Friday (9/22), the next Friday (9/29), and the following Wednesday (10/4), at the Rubin Museum of Art.

Temple: Its Bad Karma

According to legend, one Halloween night in the 1880s, the minister of Egg Hill Church in pastoral Pennsylvania poisoned his entire congregation with communion wine and then hung himself from the bell tower. This shrine nestled in a remote Japanese forest is sort of the Buddhist equivalent. It also has its share of dead children and a Buddhist priest who was possibly guilty, but very definitely lynched for the crimes.  Ever since, it just radiates bad grudges, but three American tourists will seek it out anyway, to move the story along in Michael Barrett’s Temple (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Christopher is still recovering from a nervous breakdown precipitated by his brother’s death, but he agreed to accompany Kate, the childhood platonic friend he has long carried a torch for, and her smug boyfriend James on their Japanese vacation. He ought to know better than to put himself in that position, but he has it bad for her. She should also know better than to inflict that kind of torture on him, but Christopher speaks Japanese, so he will be handy to have around.

Kate is researching Buddhist and Shinto shrines for her comparative religion thesis, so when they come across an evocative sketch of our titular temple in a second-hand book, she insists they find it. She will not be dissuaded when the proprietor freaks out at the sight of the journal, refusing to sell it to her. Christopher displays an appalling lack of intuition when he later returns to the store, only finding a mysterious little boy, who is ever so willing to sell him the volume—but to be fair, he is very drunk.

Even though random strangers try to warn Christopher off, the trio follows the clues laid out in the journal to a rustic mountain village. Much to Christopher’s surprise, but still not stirring any of his suspicions, they come across the same little boy. Of course, he will be happy to guide them to the temple in the morning, but the absolutely, positively must be back before sundown. No problem, right? Or maybe so, judging from the in media res opening that takes place in a high security mental hospital.

In demand horror scribe Simon Barrett (no relation to Michael) is credited with the screenplay, but he has essentially disavowed the film. It sounds like he just completed some piecemeal work-for-hire treatments way back when that bear only the vaguest resemblance to the final shooting script, but the truth is Temple is not so very far removed from his screenplay for the thoroughly conventional Blair Witch reboot. Michael Barrett and cinematographer Cory Geryak also shrewdly capitalize on the Japanese settings and imagery.

Naoto Takenaka is so awesomely grizzled and world-weary as Prof. Ryo, the headshrinker interrogating Christopher in the wrap-around segments, we wish the film were really about his investigation. By the same token, it is cool to see recognizable Japanese character actor Kanji Furutachi (After the Storm, Harmonium, Au Revoir L’été) as the Shinjuku bar patron who tries to convince Christopher to forget all about the temple. In contrast, the three Yanks are all competent on a professional level, but there is so little to distinguish them, you probably would not recognize them the next morning if you sat next to them on the subway.

Temple has a wonderfully picturesque sense of place and some nice atmospherics, but the characters’ relationship dynamics are just the same old stuff. Frankly, it could have used some Simon Barrett doctoring and polish, but much like the notorious cut of Dying of the Light re-edited without Paul Schrader’s involvement, Temple is far more watchable than its reputation suggests. Recommended as a future stream for those who dig Japanese-flavored horror without the standard issue j-horror tropes, Temple opens today (9/1) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

AOF ’17: Bosatsu—Year of the Dragon (short)

It is always nice when animated films can teach us a lesson in comparative religion. Take for instance, Fugen Bosatsu, a Bodhisattva (an enlightened one, who defers Nirvana to help point us crass mortals in the right direction) and one of the eight Buddhist zodiac guardians. He will play a significant role in Siddharth Ahluwalia’s animated short film Bosatsu—Year of the Dragon, which screens during this year’s Action on Film Festival.

The Chinese zodiac is represented by twelve animals, but there are only eight guardians, so some will have to double up. Fugen Bosatsu has responsibility for Snake and Dragon. As it happens, Jake was born in the Year of the Dragon, so his connection to the Dragon Guardian makes some kind of sense. Under Fugen Bosatsu’s guidance, he is pursuing a quest through what looks like a Southeast Asian pyramid.

Bosatsu essentially plays like a proof-of-concept superhero origins story, but with considerably more spiritual significance. There is no question Ahluwalia’s concept could be expanded to support a feature or series treatment. With a visual style clearly inspired by anime, it should be quite accessible to genre fans, even if they are completely ignorant of Buddhism.

Maddeningly, Osamu Tezuka’s second film in his anime adaptation of Kozo Morishita’s manga life of Buddha has yet to screen in North America—at least not to any extent that we might notice, so Bosatsu is a nice bite-sized consolation while we continue to wait. It is fun, stylish, and well-versed in Buddhist teachings. Highly recommended, Bosatsu—Year of the Dragon screens this Friday (8/18), as part of the 2017 Action on Film Festival.

SIFF ’17: Becoming Who I Was

It is bad enough that the Chinese Communist Party interferes with the free practice of religion in Tibet. Maddingly, they are also complicating the reincarnation of a revered Rinpoche. The nine-year-old boy born Padma Angdu was determined to be the reincarnation of a revered teacher. The problem is, he lives in the northern Indian city of Ladakh, but his previous monastery was in Kham, Tibet. Of course, China tightly controls access to the occupied nation. The young Rinpoche would live a freer life in India, but he has karmic business in Tibet. That dilemma will preoccupy the boy and his godfather in Moon Chang-yong & Jeon Jin’s documentary, Becoming Who I Was (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2017 Seattle International Film Festival.

In many ways, Angdu (as he was once known and sort of still is to some) is a normal boy, who would like to be bigger and better at sports than he is. However, he understands he has a special place in the universe. In fact, Angdu claims he still has memories of his life in Kham. Unfortunately, when his former monastery fails to collect their venerated abbot (whether they even know of his existence remains unclear), the Ladakh monastery expels Angdu into the care of his new religious guardian, the devout Urgyan Rickzan, who also happens to be the only trained doctor in the region. (That seems highly unfair, considering they were the ones who proclaimed him a Rinpoche in the first place.)

Ultimately, Rickzan will take Angdu on a physical and spiritual pilgrimage, hoping to cross the border into Kham. However, weather and geopolitics are stacked against him. Frankly, even though Angdu will surely have greater educational opportunities than his peers, it is highly debatable whether his Rinpoche status will make him happier in the long-run.

Regardless, the relationship between Angdu and Rickzan is deeply moving. Even when circumstances are at their worst, they can still make each other laugh, which is indeed the Tibetan Buddhist way. The terrain might also be treacherous to trudge through, but is it ever cinematic. Moon and Jeon, acting as their own cinematographers and cameramen, frame some stunning visuals. Yet, the screen loves Angdu and Rickzan even more. They are both enormously charismatic and deeply sympathetic figures.

In many ways, Becoming provides a counterpoint to Nati Baratz’s widely screened documentary, Unmistaken Child. However, it is absolutely certain Angdu’s life would be immeasurably better if the PRC were not still holding Tibet as a captive nation (as would be true for nearly everyone in the sovereign country). Recommended as vivid portrait of the grueling demands of faith for contemporary Tibetan Buddhists, Becoming Who I Was screens this Wednesday (5/24), Thursday (5/25) and the following Thursday (6/1), during this year’s SIFF.

Miki (short): Will the Thrill’s Next 100 Days

A prominent radio psychologist once told us every comedian she ever knew wrestled with depression. That is certainly true of “Will the Thrill.” However, he has perfectly good reasons for being down. His mother has just died, but one of her final requests might help him to finally face issues from his past in Miki (trailer here), Weiko Lin’s short film adaptation of his award-winning play, which starts a week of special screenings this Friday in Los Angeles.

Will never really knew what to make of his mother’s conversation to Buddhism, so he is rather put off when her spiritual advisor-sifu tells the comedian he must marry within the next one hundred days to allow her soul to rest peacefully, according to Buddhist teachings. To add insult to awkwardness, he also informs Will his mother wanted his childhood sweetheart to have her prayer beads.

Much to Will’s surprise, his mother had kept in touch with Miki. When he was thirteen, he was convinced she was the one—and frankly he probably still believes it. Unfortunately, she moved away and eventually married. After several self-destructive stops on his college tour, Will finally reconnects with Miki. It is a difficult reunion for both, but Will just might begin to understand some of the darkness Miki went through during the intervening years.

In all honesty, Miki might be the most emotionally devastating short you will see in the next one hundred Sundays. As the titular Miki, Karli Hall tears the audience’s collective heart out. It is just a quietly overwhelming performance, better than the vast majority of work you will see in features. Likewise, Eric Martig’s portrayal of Will the Thrill is unusually brave, bringing to mind Jeff Bridges’ aggressive self-loathing in The Fisher King.

Miki is very much about what ails both damaged people, but it is also intriguing for the way it portrays the American Buddhist convert experience. Good old Will can’t help remarking on the pasty whiteness of his mother’s sifu (played by Daniel Van Kirk, who makes a strong impression during his brief screen time). Yet, the film clearly implies her Buddhist faith was a source of strength for his mother and also for the Jewish Miki.

Lin helms with a deep sensitivity and a sure hand. Presumably, he had to greatly condense his stage-play, but he still covers a great deal of emotional ground in twenty-five minutes. Regardless of length, Miki is a mature and accomplished work. Very highly recommended, it opens this Friday (5/12) in LA, at the Laemmle Playhouse 7.

Hot Docs ’17: A Cambodian Spring

It is an awkward fact Cambodian Prime Minister (for life) Hun Sen’s ruling Cambodian People’s Party was also the party of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. It just changed its name (formerly the Kampuchean People’s Revolutionary Party) and supposedly renounced Communism (and genocide). However, you will question how reformed the party truly is when a group of neighborhood activists fight to protect their homes from deliberate flooding and appropriation in Chris Kelly’s A Cambodian Spring (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Hot Docs in Toronto.

Shot over the course of six years, Kelly marks the passage of time by documenting the devastation of Boeung Kak Lake. What was once an oasis within the city of Phnom Penh becomes a dusty wasteland as a World Bank-funded development project steadily fills it with sand. In the process, the houses of the surrounding neighborhoods are flooded out. Those homes that still stand have a date with the wrecking ball swing by the Shukaku Company, which naturally enjoys close ties to the Hun Sen administration/regime.

However, displaced families have little choice but to hang on in the water-logged homes, because the pittance compensation offered by the government will essentially leave them homeless. From within their ranks, working class mothers Tep Vanny and Toul Srey Pov emerge as activist leaders in the struggle for fair compensation and clear titled property rights. They will find one brave, mediagenic ally in Buddhist monk Venerable Luon Sovath, but since the Cambodian government appoints the Supreme Patriarch of the nation’s monastic system, much like China has claimed it has the right to do in Tibet, Venerable Sovath is at constant risk of being defrocked for standing with the beleaguered Boeung Kak residents.

Spring has no narration, because it doesn’t need any. Viewers can see with absolute crystal clarity what is happening and understand the full crushing implications of each development. This is truly an epic of widespread corruption and personal betrayal. It runs just over two hours, which is usually a tad long by doc standards, but it will leave you utterly staggered.

Sovath is indeed a profile in courage and both Vanny and Pov show plenty of guts during the first and second acts. In fact, both will see the inside of Cambodia’s prisons on trumped up charges. However, their falling, for acutely human reasons, is arguably the greatest tragedy Kelly documents.

Perhaps what is most galling about the Boeung Kak neighborhood’s plight is that as a World Bank voting member, we helped fund their woes. Even though bank officials were fully informed of the Boeung Kak horror show unfolding in their name, they continue to steer development funds to the Hun Sen regime. Frankly, Spring will put audiences in a mood to gather up pitchforks and march on 1818 H Street or 1 Dag Hammarskjold Plaza.

Throughout Spring, Kelly captures scenes so telling, they will turn your stomach to ice-water. In fact, this documentary is important beyond the malicious corruption it exposes. After watching Spring, viewers will better understand how and why oppressive regimes can so thoroughly grind down democratic reformist movements. It is also worth noting that the crux of the Boeung Kak residents’ woes are their lack of enforceable property rights, which are the cornerstone of the capitalist system. Eye-opening, emotionally draining, and altogether revelatory, A Cambodian Spring is easily one of the best documentaries of the year. Very highly recommended, it screens again this afternoon (5/4) and Sunday evening (5/7), as part of this year’s Hot Docs.

Tribeca ’17: The Departure

Ittetsu Nemoto is the of the Zen Buddhist equivalent of Clarence the Angel from It’s a Wonderful Life, but he has a much heavier case load. In the therapeutic ritual he developed, “The Departure,” clients are invited to envision their own deaths. Nemoto has an admirably high survival rate, but it is unclear how long much longer he can endure the pace and pressure of his counseling practice. Viewers will observe Nemoto taking years off his own life as he saves others in Lana Wilson’s The Departure, which premiered at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Nemoto is also much like the punker turned Buddhist priest protagonist of Naoki Katô’s Abraxas, except he is the real deal. When we first meet Nemoto, he is seeking the solace of the void in the heavy electronica music of a late-night dance club. That is where he goes when he needs to turn off his head, but the clubbing environment on top of the stress and strain of his suicide prevention work is taking a toll.

We watch Nemoto cajole and console his clients, both in person and over the phone. Frankly, he never seems particularly eloquent or deep, but it is his earnest commitment that seems to resonate with clients. Yet, the spiritual energy he consumes as part of his intervention work often leaves him tired and distant with his wife and their young son. Although the situation is not yet completely dire, Nemoto’s persistent health issues are forcing his to consider his own potential death, while he labors to convince others to say yes to life.

Like many docs that eschew narration and talking head interviews, the pace of The Departure feels a little slow at times. However, Wilson captures some remarkable images. Throughout it all, Nemoto remains a deeply compelling character. He is a priest, not a saint, but his dedication and empathy appear to be limited only by his own physical and emotional endurance.

Departure does not end with a climatic crisis, which is probably a good thing for Nemoto and his clients, but Wilson still skillfully uses one of Nemoto’s signature ceremonies to build to an emotional climax. As documentary profiles go, it is downright immersive at times. An inspiring snapshot of Zen Buddhism in action, The Departure is highly recommended for mindfulness audiences. After premiering at the 2017 Tribeca Film Festival, it next screens at Hot Docs this Wednesday (5/3), Thursday (5/4), and Friday (5/5).

SXSW ’17: Walk with Me

Thich Nhat Hanh has published forty books in English translation. That constitutes a nice backlist, but there is still another sixty-some untranslated titles for his publisher to dip into. Clearly, Nhat Hanh is prolific, but his body of work is truly impressive considering his work ethic is tempered by his practice of mindfulness—a conscious embrace of the present moment. Although health concerns have finally slowed down the ninety-year-old teacher, Max Pugh & Marc J. Francis documented the Thien (Zen) Buddhist monk at the peak of his powers, as he interacts with the students and fellow monastics of his Plum Village spiritual community in Walk with Me (trailer here), which screens during this year’s SXSW.

Nhat Hanh first rose to prominence advocating a peaceful resolution to the Vietnam War, but when the war did indeed end, he was exiled from his country until 2005, which probably tells you everything you need to know about the so-called Peace Movement’s assumptions. Yet, one could argue his influence has been far greater than if he had remained in his homeland, as has been the case for the great teachers of Tibetan Buddhism.

Pugh & Francis manage to capture a sense of what attracts both the monastics and the visitors to Plum Village (near Dordogne, which also has a large British expat community). Obviously, the tranquil vibe starts with Nhat Hanh himself, but a sense of mindfulness permeates the place. We see it in practice when the entire community stops in mid-stride and mid-sentence whenever bells chime, to re-focus on the moment. It is also impossible to miss the beauty of their services, especially those involving performances by Sister Trai Nghiem and her fellow musical monastics. Many visitors are literally moved to tears by their sounds and probably a lot of audience members will be right there with them.

However, unlike the still spritely Dalai Lama, it is hard to draw a bead on Nhat Hanh’s personality, beyond his superhuman sereneness. Benedict Cumberbatch (who might replace Richard Gere as the go-to narrator for Buddhist-themed documentaries) reads excerpts from Fragrant Palm Leaves with all do sensitivity, but his syrupy voice reinforces our distance from the ostensive subject. Instead, Pugh & Francis apparently opt to show how the teacher is reflected in the disciple. Again, Walk with Me will sneak up and coldcock viewers with the depth of feeling experienced by an American monastic reuniting with the nursing home-bound father she rarely has an opportunity to visit.

Mindfulness really is the key to Walk with Me. It is a somewhat uneven film, but the high points are arrestingly beautiful. So, you had better pay attention, because you would not want to miss those moments when they happen. Highly recommended for spiritual audiences of all faiths, Walk with Me screens again this morning (3/13) and Wednesday (3/15), during SXSW ’17.

Suffering of Ninko: Sex and Buddhism

Ninko wants to know the sacred, not the profane. Unfortunately, he finds himself in the Edo-era monastic Buddhist Carry On movie Gerald Thomas never made. It is hard out there for a monk with inconveniently potent animal magnetism, but he will take an ominous detour through Kwaidan territory in Norihiro Niwatsukino’s terrifically inventive Suffering of Ninko (trailer here), which is available for a limited time only on Festivalscope’s public-facing VOD platform.

Ninko’s spirit is earnest and chaste, but his flesh is too darned tempting for women (and also some men). Whenever he begs for alms, it creates bedlam on the streets. That might sound great to some guys, but it is a nightmare for a novice monk trying to hold up his end of the monastic duties. Eventually, things get so chaotic, the abbot sends him away on a journey to level his sexually charged karma.

To cleanse himself, Ninko tries to avoid people, but he is still visited by erotically charged dreams and visions. Disheartened and somewhat disoriented, the novice starts to doubt his purpose. However, fate will bring him to a cursed village terrorized by Yama-onno, a succubus-like goddess who seduces men, draining them of their life force in the manner of a sexual vampire. A notorious ronin thinks he has her number, but Ninko and his mojo would seem to match up better against her.

Suffering is no mere bawdy comedy, though it certainly never lacks for bare breasts. It is also rather shockingly learned when it comes to Buddhist traditions. Visually, it is rich and distinctive, augmenting the live action with animated segments stylistically derived for woodblock prints and mandala paintings. Naturally, there are hat-tips to classic Japanese ghost movies, but Niwatsukino clearly aims more for caustic irony than horror, per se.

It is hard to believe this is his first full-length feature. The animated sequences are wildly cool and his initially naughty narrative holds some real surprises for unsuspecting viewers. Masato Tsujioka is a good sport enduring all sorts humiliations and slapstick travails as Ninko. Credit also goes to Miho Wakabayashi, who never holds back as Yama-onno. In contradiction of its title, Suffering of Ninko is a total blast, so fans of Kwaidan films or smart (goofy) movie spoofs are strongly encouraged to check it on while it is still available to the public via Festivalscope (especially now that the Dollar and the Euro are so close to parity). Very highly recommended, it plays through the weekend (until 2/20).

Golden Kingdom: Young Novices Home Alone

Coming is age is hard enough without separatist violence. However, one resourceful young novice Buddhist monk will also experience spiritual discoveries and existential peril in American filmmaker Brian Perkins’ Golden Kingdom (trailer here), a Burmese language narrative, shot on location at a working provincial monastery, which is now available on VOD from Kino Lorber.

Ko Yin Witazara is not the biggest of the four novices, but nobody objects when the abbot puts him “in charge” while he visits the nearest city on business. Initially, the four boys enjoy their freedom from supervision, but they largely keep to the same routine, because what else would they do in a rural monastery? Unfortunately, the good vibes are short lived. Soon they start hearing mortar fire from the hills and more alarming noises from the surrounding brush. Things get desperate when the neighboring farmer stops delivering rice. For the sake of his novice brothers, Witazara will venture out in search of food, encountering insurgents and perhaps the spirits that feed off their violence.

Eventually, Kingdom takes a mystical turn, but Perkins never over-sells the supernatural elements. Frankly, the first act could well appeal to admirers of Into Great Silence. Yet, at its heart, his narrative is always about Witazara assuming responsibility. Shine Htet Zaw is a striking natural, giving one of the deepest, least affected performance you could ever hope to see from a youthful thesp. As Witazara, he carries the film squarely on his shoulders. The young lead also forges some easy camaraderie with Ko Yin Saw Ri, Ko Yin Than Maung, and Ko Yin Maung Sein, who as Ko Yin Wezananda, Ko Yin Thiridena, and Ko Yin Awadadema, respectively, always come across as convincing novices, because they are.

Bella Halben’s arresting cinematography is perfectly suited to the stillness of the monastery and the archetypal magical realism. Both the look and the ambient sounds of nature really transport viewers to Burma (that’s what the Burmese still call it, so that’s good enough for us), not unlike Scorsese’s upcoming Silence. Throughout it all, Shine Htet Zaw emerges as modest but commanding young star. Highly recommended for those who appreciate its coming-of-age and Buddhist themes, Golden Kingdom is now available on VOD platforms, including iTunes.

Reign of Assassins: Michelle Yeoh Can Still Bring It

It is the stuff dreams are made.  However, in Ming-era China, it is not a little black bird, but an ancient monk’s corpse—two halves of it to be precise.  While her Dark Stone assassin guild will kill or die for the martial arts-infused body, one former femme fatale-killer opts to go straight and responsible in Su Chao-pin’s Reign of Assassins (trailer here), “co-directed” with the John Woo, which releases today on DVD, from Weinstein and Anchor Bay.

According to legend (and Reign’s cool animated prologue), when the Bodhi monk came to China, he perfected the practice of martial arts.  So profound was his kung fu enlightenment, it became ingrained in his very body. Hence, his divided cadaver was plundered from the tomb for the sake of the power it might bestow.  Wheel King, the shadowy leader of the Dark Stone, is determined to find and unite the monk’s remains.  Yes, he wants that martial arts mojo, but he has other secret motivations as well.  However, Drizzle, one of his top lieutenants, has gone rogue at an in/opportune time.

Changing her features, Drizzle becomes the beautiful but mild mannered Zeng Jing, a street vendor with a huge stash of silver under her floor.  Naturally, she turns the heads of all the men in town, but only the foot courier Jiang Ah-sheng is worth a second look.  It turns out he is worth marrying.  Unfortunately, when bandits strike close to home looking for the Bodhi body, her façade starts to slip.  Suddenly, Zeng’s former colleagues come knocking.

Reign has a massive karmic twist that might be guessable, but still packs an archetypal punch.  It also has Kelly Lin as the before Drizzle, Michelle Yeoh as the after Zeng (talk about twice lucky), and Barbie Hsu as the red-hot psycho Dark Stone recruit, Turquoise Leaf.  Indeed, Reign is blessed with a great action heroine in Yeoh, who is still impressive in the fight scenes, as well as several memorably colorful villains, most definitely including Hsu.  Once again, Wang Xueqi does his thing, making Wheel King one heavy old cat.  Yet, Reign also has some nice quiet moments shared by Yeoh’s Zeng and Jung Woo-sung as the apparently genial Jiang.

While Reign does not exactly reinvent fight choreography, its execution is pretty spectacular, especially sequences featuring Drizzle/Zeng’s “water-shedding-sword” technique. The symmetry of its fight scenes is also cool and clever. Reign might not display very many Woo-isms, but it has a well-crafted period look. Plus, there are some stone-cold Buddhist elements, including Calvin Li memorably playing a monk-to-be appropriately named “Wisdom.” It is a relatively brief appearance, but he looms large. It is also fun and wonderfully reassuring watching Yeoh bring it once again. She still has massive skills and super screen presence.

Reign was on the festival circuit several years ago, so its absence on home video has been mystifying. It will be worth the wait for wuxia and Yeoh fans (presumably there is a lot of crossover between the two).  Recommended for those who appreciate elegant, character-driven martial arts cinema, Reign of Assassins is now available on DVD, from the Weinstein Company and Anchor Bay.

King Hu’s A Touch of Zen

Never pick a fight with a Buddhist abbot on the brink of enlightenment, especially if he is played by Roy Chiao. That would necessarily mean you are the evil one, since his virtue is plain as the rays of righteousness emanating from him. Of course, Abbot Hui Yuan has largely forsaken worldly matters, but the agents of the evil Eunuch Wei are perversely determined to involve the master of masters. Wuxia spectacle reaches the highest levels of art and spirituality in King Hu’s masterpiece, A Touch of Zen (trailer here), which re-releases in its complete, 4K restored glory this Friday at Film Forum.

The story of Zen’s tempestuous, years-in-the-making production and initially hacked-up, Weinsteinized release is an epic in itself. It was not until a nearly complete cut won universal acclaim and the grand technical prize at the 1975 Cannes Film Festival that Hu’s producers realized they had something special on their hands. Years later, Zen’s influence would continue to be felt in films like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and House of Flying Dragons.

Yet, it all starts in an unassuming manner in a sleepy provincial village, where the unmarried scholar-artist Gu Shengzhai’s lack of ambition drives his mother to distraction. One day, a stranger in town agrees to sit for a portrait, apparently as a way to prime Gu for local information and possibly kill some time. When Gu starts to follow the mysterious Ouyang Nian, he soon detects the outsider’s interest in three recent arrivals in town: the new doctor, a maybe not so blind fortune teller, and Yang Hui-ching, the destitute beauty squatting with her mother in the ramshackle Jinglu Fort next door.

Although the marriage proposal suggested by Gu’s mother is rebuffed, he and Yang still become close. In fact, her rejection is mostly to protect the naïve scholar. She is the last of a once great family decimated by Wei’s agents in the Eastern Chamber. She has gone into hiding, with only the loyal Generals Shih and Lu for protection. However, Yang is perfectly capable of taking care of herself under ordinary circumstances. That was one of the benefits of her time living under Abbot Hui’s protection. Of course, Hui is no longer inclined to involve himself in such fleeting terrestrial concerns, but when the vicious Chief Commander Hsu Hsien-chen arrives to re-establish Wei’s authority, all bets are off.

Zen is the granddaddy of all modern Wuxia films and the starting point for any discussion of Buddhist-themed cinema. Structurally, it also has a distinctive flow, allowing characters to crest and fall in relatively importance, while still proceeding in a logical fashion from point A to B and on to C. There are also some massively cinematic martial arts sequences, co-choreographed by Hu regular Han Ying-chieh and Hua Hui-ying.

Along the way, Gu evolves from a rather callow coward into the strategist who masterminds their temporary victories of the Eastern Chamber. Shih Chun is well-suited to Gu’s arc, nicely playing him with relaxed silliness in the early going and cerebral intensity down the stretch. Feng Hsu shows the dazzling action chops and slow-burning presence that made her Hu’s go-to heroine throughout the 1970s. Han is also wonderfully devious as the wicked Commander Hsu. Fans should also keep on the lookout during his scenes for a younger, svelter Master Sammo Hung, appearing as one of the villain’s two sons. However, there is no question Roy Chiao takes command of the film and elevates it into the stratosphere with his performance as Abbot Hui. It takes serious gravitas to reach nirvana on-screen, but he and Hu pull it off right before our eyes.

Zen does not feel like a three-hour film, even though Hu often takes his time to deliberately set the scene and marvel at the surrounding natural vistas. As a result, we really get a sense of the place and the era in which these characters live (and die). Forty-five years after it was more-or-less completed, A Touch of Zen still ranks as one of the most beautiful action films ever made. Very highly recommended, it opens this Friday (4/22) at Film Forum.