ND/NF ’26: Next Life

In Tibet, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) constantly destroys lives, but it also jeopardizes reincarnations. For Tibetans exiles like Rigzin’s parents, a return to their homeland before their anticipated deaths holds great karmic implications for their next life. However, the occupying CCP rarely issues travel visas for Tibetan exiles. So far, Rigzin’s Pala and Amala have not been exceptions. He keeps applying, but time is running out in Tenzin Phuntsog’s Next Life, which screens during this year’s New Directors/New Films.

Tsewang and his wife have been happy living in America, but they still feel like they belong in Tibet. In contrast, Rigzin clearly identifies with America on a cultural level, even though he speaks Tibetan with his parents and practices Tibetan Buddhism. Tsewang’s heart is failing, so he has given up on Western medicine, in favor of traditional Tibetan healing. However, the results remain the same.

Next Life very much explores the dynamics of modern immigrant families, but their dilemma is distinctly Tibetan. Given Tsewang’s extensive family roots in Tibet and his advanced age, the CCP’s continued rejection of his visa application is simply a product of cruelty and spite. Perhaps the most telling sequence captures Rigzin trying to navigate the Chinese consulate’s automated phone system, until he finally reaches a consular officer, who sounds like a dystopian AI chatbot, but was perfectly voiced by Yanbin Zhao.

The Path of the Dalai Lama, His Holiness in Graphic Novel Form

Like Superman and Batman, His Holiness, the 14^th Dalai Lama is now the star of his own graphic novel, but his superpowers are mindfulness, nonviolence, and integrity. In a way, you could argue he also exhibits precognition. As the 13^th Dalai Lama, he foretold impending threats to Tibet and its Tibetan Buddhist faith, both from foreign and domestic sources. Yet, due to his nonviolent convictions, the 14^th Dalai Lama still tried to negotiate a peaceful arrangement with the CCP occupiers, to preserve the nation’s culture and traditions. It did not work, but it led to an ironically triumphant exile chronicled Tom Taylor’s graphic novel, The Path of the Dalai Lama, illustrated by Matyas Namai, which releases this Tuesday.

In addition to unexpcted enthusiiasm for advanced science, His Holiness is also surprisingly receptive to comics and graphic novels, because he gave Taylor and Namai his blessing for this project, based on their comic adaption of Orwell’s 1984. Their collaboration follows the historic events that might be familiar to many, especially if you have seen Martin Scorsese’s Kundun, despite Disney’s efforts to hide it. Yet, they cover some telling and undeniably significant incidents, like the 13^th Dalai Lama’s aforementioned prophecy and the year and a half he spent as a hostage to Muslim Chinese warlord Ma Bufang, before the young newly identified reincarnate was finally allowed to continue to Lhasa.

Clearly, Taylor’s graphic novel will not appear on the CCP’s reading lists. In addition to documenting the horrors of the late 1950s invasion and colonization, he also devotes considerable space to the late 1980s mass protests and the mid-1990s self-immolations, which have been almost entirely forgotten by the Western media in recent years. Taylor does a decent job channeling HH’s personality, but his real strength comes in the way he crystalizes decades of personal and national history into 100-some pages of incredibly striking comic panels.

Wisdom of Happiness, Starring the 14th Dalai Lama

He promoted "mindfulness" before it was cool. He still advocates nonviolence even though it is currently out of favor, with violence and terrorism regularly celebrated on the streets of New York and London (especially the anti-Semitic variety). In some ways, the Tibetan Buddhism espoused by His Holiness, the 14^th Dalai Lama has already had tremendous influence on the Western world, since his exile in 1959. Yet, in other ways, we need his teachings now more than ever. Fortunately, the Dalai Lama obliges, delivering essentially a summation of his teachings that he offers for both longtime followers and casual newcomers in Barbara Miller & Philip Delaquis’s documentary, Wisdom of Happiness, executive produced by Richard Gere, which is now playing in New York.

Although His Holiness provides a brief recap of his flight from Tibet, stressing how his willingness to come to an understanding with the CCP was undermined by Mao’s betrayal, he essentially seeks to lay a practical philosophical groundwork for personal happiness. He starts with the premise that everyone desires happiness and peace, which, arguably might only be half true in these times, while admitting that this will be an increasingly difficult goal in the 21^st Century (which is hard to deny).

Much of what the Dalai Lama recommends will dovetail nicely with the mindfulness movement/industry, such as his practice of conscious meditation. Yet, ironically, many woke extremists have turned against him, due to manufactured outrages. Nevertheless, for real “progressives,” His Holiness’s teaching should hold great appeal. Throughout the film, he champions scientific inquiry, suggesting that it is religious dogma that should give way when the two conflict. (Indeed, Dawn Gifford Engle documented his scientific curiosity at length in The Dalai Lama: Scientist).

Frankly, he serves up progressive catnip when His Holiness argues for greater female representation among national leaders, because he has observed women have an inherently more peaceful nature. Yet, the Dalai Lama is perhaps at his most progressive when he discusses the need for wiser environmental stewardship.

Tribeca ’25: Kundun

Former Disney CEO Michael Eisner abjectly apologized for this film, calling it “s stupid mistake.” On bended knee, he groveled to the Chinese Communist Party (CCP): “The bad news is the film was made; the good news is nobody watched it.” Disney saw to that. The film in question was directed by Martin Scorsese, who dedicated it to his recently deceased mother, Catherine. It was also nominated for four Academy Awards, including Philip Glass’s justly celebrated score. However, you can’t stream Scorsese’s cinematic biography of the 14^th (and according to him, last) Dalai Lama. Again, Disney made the conscious decision to keep it out of circulation. Hence any screening of Scorsese’s Kundun is a big deal, so its special screening to celebrate Scorsese’s birthday at the 2025 Tribeca Film Festival is a huge event.

Born Lhamo Thondup, the Dalai Lama was a rather willful child, but also an intelligent one. Reting, the Regent of Tibet quickly realizes the bright little boy should be tested to determine whether he is the reincarnated spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhists, which indeed turns out to be the case.

As the recognized Dalai Lama studies at Potala Palace, he shows a keen curiosity regarding the outside world. That will be just as well, because the outside world soon barges into Tibet. Unfortunately, after the devastation of WWII, England and Europe are too exhausted to intervene when China invades and annexes Tibet. Likewise, the newly independent India is too disorganized and America is too far. Consequently, the Dalai Lama and his ministers agree to negotiate with Mao.

However, many of the senior Lamas realize they are really only stalling for time, even though the Dalai Lama still hopes for a more equitable and autonomous arrangement. Sadly, as the CCP starts razing monasteries, the Dalai Lama recognizes the CCP as the oppressors they always intended to be. Nevertheless, he resists seeking sanctuary in India, because he refuses to abandon his people when they need him the most.

It is easy to see why Kundun (the Tibetans’ term of reverence and affection for the Dalai Lama, meaning “the Presence”) angered the CCP. First of all, it is an excellent film, unlike the junky rom-coms and stilted propaganda movies the Chinese film industry now cranks out. It also forthrightly depicts the brutality and destruction of the CCP occupation. Yet, it is small but telling moments, like when the Dalai Lama bemoans the blaring bombastic Chinese propaganda music, lamenting: “they even took our silence,” that are especially devastating.

Indeed, Scorsese and screenwriter Melissa Mathison follow the historical record, depicting the Dalai Lama as neither a rebel nor a hot-head. He was a remains a man of non-violence, who was forced into a painful exile, as a means of preserving the Tibetan national soul.

Despite the tragedy it captures, Kundun is a gorgeous film, magnificently lensed by acclaimed cinematographer Roger Deakins. He and Scorsese use the colors and imagery of the Tibetan sand mandala to arresting effect. Glass’s score is hypnotic, but it also expresses a sense of awe. Just in terms of technical artistry, Kundun is unusually accomplished.

SXSW ’25: Mola

Kunsang Wangmo turned 100 in 2015. If Tibetan Buddhist nun had not left Tibet shortly after the CCP’s occupation, she probably would not have survived to 50. However, reaching her centennial made her keenly aware of her mortality. She wished to return home for her death and reincarnation, but the Beijing regime strictly controls access to the captive Tibetan nation. Her granddaughter and Swiss son-in-law document her preparation for her final journeys. One will only be a matter of time, but they hope she can also make the arduous trek back to Lhasa before that happens in Yangzom & Martin Brauen’s Mola: A Tibetan Tale of Love and Loss, which screens during the 2025 SXSW Film Festival.

Most of her family and the Tibetan community in Switzerland simply know her as “Mola,” or grandmother. She has lived in the land of neutrality with her daughter, artist Sonam Dola Brauen and her son-in-law Martin for forty-five years. First, she and Sonam Dola fled through India, where her daughter eventually met Brauen, who was doing field work in Mussoorie.

Clearly, the mother-daughter relationship has its share of stresses and strains. That happens to most people, even if those who need not adjust to life in exile. However, her son-in-law always seems to maintain good terms with “Mola,” while granddaughter, director-thesp Yangzom, never directly appears on-camera.

Regardless, Mola appears quite spry and alert for her age and she largely maintains a healthy spirit. According to her own testimony, her faith helps sustain her. Still, it is hard to get around the significance of her approaching milestone. Switzerland’s neutrality ought to make her visa application easier, but her history obviously raises many red flags (so to speak).

Never Forget Tibet, The Dalai Lama’s Untold Story

The world's most celebrated advocate of non-violence is also technically the most wanted fugitive. The Chinese Communist Party still calls him a criminal, but the world knows Tenzin Gyatso, the 14^th Dalai Lama as a Nobel Peace Prize recipient. However, hardly anyone would have known him at all were it not for Har Mander Singh, an officer with the Indian Frontier Administrative Service. His Holiness reunites with the man who safely escorted him to his new home-in-exile in Jean-Paul Mertinez’s documentary, Never Forget Tibet, The Dalai Lama’s Untold Story, which has a special nationwide Fathom Events screening this Thursday.

Technically, the Dalai Lama’s 1959 escape was his second try. Frankly, he tried to reach some kind of accommodation with the CCP, but they were determined to dominate the Tibetan nation. When the PLA started shelling Lhasa, His Holiness was already gone, but his party was not sure where their journey would end.

Fortunately, Singh was posted to Bomdila. Even though Nehru agreed to extend asylum to His Holiness, communication was still pretty spotty. Singh stuck his neck out a little protecting the Dalai Lama’s party once he crossed the border, but his initiative was vindicated—and appreciated by His Holiness, whom the Singhs personally hosted like family.

Mertinez’s documentary largely follows An Officer and His Holiness, a nonfiction account written by Singh’s niece Rani, a British journalist. Her uncle passed away in 2020, but Mertinez filmed his visit to Dharamshala, for an emotional final meeting with His Holiness.

There is also some new historical material in Never Forget Tibet, including detail on the flight from Lhasa and the secret correspondence between the Dalai Lama, Nehru, and Harold Macmillan. It is an amazing historical episode, but Mertinez tells it in a restrained manner. Frankly, sometimes the energy level could have been raised a tad, without compromising the historical integrity.

Regardless, Never Forget Tibet helps humanize an icon, His Holiness, while providing context on his relationship with his Indian hosts. It is more complicated than we might have assumed, because of India’s up-and-down diplomatic relations with Mainland China.

Margaret Mead ’18: Tibetan Nomads in Exile (short)

The notion of “nomads in exile” sounds almost contradictory. They lead migratory, impermanent lives by choice—or at least they did before the Chinese occupation of Tibet. Many now live in India, still very much tending their herds just as their ancestors did before them. However, it is a struggle to preserve their Tibetan language and customs. Tsering Wangmo introduces viewers one nomadic Tibetan family and their reluctant encounters with globalization in the short documentary Tibetans Nomads in Exile Resistance (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Margaret Mead Film Festival.

It is hard enough to maintain a traditional nomadic lifestyle in the post-modern world (just look at the Mongolian nomads in the narrative-docu-hybrid Zud), but adding on the oppression of an outside invader is just not fair. Nevertheless, the Jigdol Wangmo follows tries to do their best (but they yearn for the lush grazing that was once found in Tibet). The eldest brother is already an adult, who is respected by his seniors for his skill with horses and knack for fixing mechanical devices. However, it is the middle daughter Karma, who has a potential future in the modern world.

Like many nomadic children, she attends one of the Tibetan schools founded and funded by the government in exile. The majority of her peers are day students, but there are still a number of boarders from nomadic families. They educate their students so they can engage with the world, but schools also keep the Tibetan language alive.

Wangmo’s film is a straight forward work of reportage, but it still captures some pretty stunning images of Ladakh and the surrounding Himalayas. It also clearly establishes the exiled Tibetan government’s greater claim to legitimacy than the Chinese puppet regime, whether or not that was the filmmaker’s intention. The evidence is there to see of the efforts of the exiled Lamas and officials to provide for their people. In contrast, even native Beijingers should not any kind of constructive help from the ruling Communist Party.

It is a shame that families like the Karma’s are separated from their homeland. This is undeniably a human tragedy, but also represents an ecological catastrophe. Whereas the nomadic herders were wise custodians of Tibet’s once pristine lands, the Mainland occupiers have been rapacious in their exploitation and despoilment (a fact alluded to, but not explored in depth late in the film). Recommended for anyone interested in Tibetan culture and the diasporic experience, Tibetan Nomads in Exile screens this morning (10/21), with Rituals ofResistance, as part of this year’s Margaret Mead Film Festival, at the American Museum of Natural History.

Margaret Mead ’18: Rituals of Resistance

Just about everyone associates the Free Tibet movement with non-violence—specifically the 14^th Dalai Lama’s “Middle Way.” However, that was not always the case and might not always be true in the future. Three generations of Tibetan exiles represent three different response to China’s oppressive occupation in Tenzin Phuntsog & Joy Dietrich’s 63-minute short documentary feature, Rituals of Resistance (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Margaret Mead Film Festival.

They might have differing opinions regarding tactics, but the three exiled profiled all agree the Chinese invasion was a massive human tragedy. Tendar is a former Buddhist monk, who remains as devout as ever, but in the early 1960s, he renounced his vows to enlist in the Tibetan rebel army. He can even be seen leading a raid on a Chinese convoy in a rare British documentary. For Phuntsog’s mother Dolma, the personal is political. She risked certain imprisonment and possibly worse to sneak back into Tibet for a reunion with the brother and sister she had not seen since they were young children.

Lakpa, born in the early 1980s will be the most troubling for many viewers, because he represents the increasingly prevalent self-immolation movement. Arguably, it is related to the nonviolent Middle Way, because it scrupulously avoids harm to others, but it obviously represents a very extreme and final form of protest. He did indeed attempt to self-immolate during Hu Jintao’s official state visit to India, but the authorities intervened.

Resistance clearly demonstrates Tibetans are far from monolithic in their thinking. However, there are broad points of consensus, notably including the complete illegitimacy of the Chinese occupation and a reverence for the Dalai Lama (but not necessarily lock-step agreement with the course he has charted for the government in exile). Frankly, that is far more common ground than we share as Americans these days.

Phuntsog is Tibetan-American, but through his three primary subjects, he and Dietrich piece together a mural portrait of the Tibetan national character. It also happens to be a rather sad and wistful film, because it definitely gives viewers a sense of the pessimism and weariness afflicting so many Tibetans, especially exiles (in this respect, they are quite like Americans, who have been mired in pessimism and negativity since the Clinton years).

This is a deeply humanistic film, but it is also uncompromisingly truthful, which often makes it profoundly distressing. First and foremost, the filmmakers are determined to provide an opportunity for their subjects to tell their stories, but in the process, they convey of vivid sense of what life is like for Tibetan exiles and activists. It is a well assembled film, but sensitive viewers should be warned the filmmakers have incorporated some highly distressing news footage of the recent immolations.

Get your sutras ready, because the experiences chronicled in Resistance will make you pray for Tibet. Beyond timely, Rituals of Resistance shows us what real “resistance” and real dissent look like. Very highly recommended, it screens this Sunday (10/21), with Tibetan Nomads in Exile, as part of this year’s Margaret Mead Film Festival, at the American Museum of Natural History.

TIFF ’18: The Sweet Requiem

They are the refugees that aren’t featured in music videos or fund-raising concerts. Although China has occupied Tibet for nearly fifty years, there is still steady stream of Tibetan refugees, braving the elements and Chinese border patrols to seek asylum in India. Those border guards will fire at will, as they did in September 2006, when they gunned down a seventeen-year-old nun. That incident was the seed that eventually germinated in the second narrative feature from the filmmaker tandem responsible for Dancing at Lhasa. Survivor’s guilt remains a potent force in Dolkar’s life, but even when they reach Northern India, Tibetan refugees like her are not safe from Chinese moles and spies in Ritu Sarin & Tenzing Sonam’s The Sweet Requiem, which screens during the 2018 Toronto International Film Festival.

With the Chinese encroaching on their traditional nomadic grasslands, Dolkar’s father decided he had to take her to India if she was to have any sort of future. She survived the trip, but he did not. Technically, he was shot by the Chinese, but she blames Gompo, the guide who abandoned their traveling party. Twenty years later (give or take), she is a poor but independent woman living in India. She is popular with the Tibetan expat community, but she has not seen her mother and sister since she left. It is a relatively simple life, but it is upended by the arrival of a supposed Tibetan activist, who happens to be a dead ringer for Gompo.

Dolkar starts following Dolkar out of anger and suspicion. As a result, she will witness the visit he receives from two thuggish agents of the Mainland government. However, there will be more to the story of the man who is probably Gompo than she realizes.

Sweet Requiem is one of the rare films that works equally well as a thriller, a tragedy, and an advocacy film. An enormous amount of credit goes to Tenzin Dolker, who is absolutely extraordinary as Dolkar. She lights up the screen, but she is also arrestingly vulnerable and messily complicated, in an acutely human kind of way.

Veteran Tibetan actor Jampa Kalsang Tamang is really just as haunting as Gompo in flashbacks and the guilt-wracked shell of a man Dolker intends to confront. It is not a flashy performance, but it connects on a gut level. Shavo Dorjee also helps keep the film grounded in reality as his namesake, a Tibetan refugee activist, who carries a torch for Dolkar.

Sweet Requiem is a story of human tragedy and suffering that incorporates some weighty Buddhist themes, but it also provides a wake-up call regarding China’s harassment of dissidents abroad. Clearly, the two spies (played chillingly by actors credited as Lhakpa Tsering) believe they can operate with impunity in India, because it is obviously true. Sarin & Sonam (the son of Tibetan refugees) also use the heartbreaking cases of Tibetan self-immolations to underscore the atmosphere of desperation, but they remain scrupulously sensitive (and never exploitative) in the way they address the phenomenon. Ultimately, the cumulative impact is deeply moving. Very highly recommended, The Sweet Requiem screens again tomorrow (9/11) and Saturday (9/15), as part of this year’s TIFF.

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.

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 Last Dalai Lama? If Tibet were Free, We Wouldn’t be Asking

The Javits Center is so out of the way, most people do not realize Manhattan extends that far west. It is an evil looking building, but it was the only venue in the City large enough to accommodate the 14^th Dalai Lama’s 80^th birthday and long-life celebration. In contrast, General Secretary Xi could hold his at a table in Starbuck’s, if you excluded all the favor-seekers. Such longevity and so many friends seem to be signs of good karma, yet the Dalai Lama has lived most of his life in exile. Given the worsening human rights situation in his Tibetan homeland, he might be the final Dalai Lama to reincarnate. His Holiness takes stock of his life and legacy in Mickey Lemle’s The Last Dalai Lama (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Now a vigorous eighty-two-years young, His Holiness has been on the world stage since he was a teenager. When only nineteen, he led a delegation to meet with Tibet’s Chinese occupiers. Initially, he thought he had persuaded Mao and Zhou to allow his people greater freedom of conscience, but alas that was not the case. Eventually, he was forced into exile, but in doing so, he became one of the world’s great statesmen and spiritual leaders. Ironically, he would spread Tibetan Buddhism farther than it had ever reached before. Yet, his commitment to emotional health and awareness always transcends faiths and religions.

In fact, the first half of the film is largely devoted to various educational endeavors that promote healthy mindfulness rather than Buddhist doctrine. That is all very nice, but the film’s title clearly begs a much bigger question. It is indeed true the 14^th Dalai Lama has said he does not expect to reincarnate again—and if he does, it will absolutely not be in Tibet. Again, blame China, who insist the Communist Party must play an active role in “selecting” the reincarnate Dalai Lama, much as they did with the contested Panchen Lama, whom virtually all Tibetans consider an illegitimate puppet because he is. The Panchen Lama officially recognized by the 14^th Dalai Lama has been held incommunicado since 1995. He was six years old at the time.

Lemle does not spend a great deal of time recapping China’s systematic violation of human rights in the captive nation or their rapacious despoilment of the once pristine environment. However, he directly addresses the surge in Tibetan self-immolation to protest the occupation, which deeply pains His Holiness. It also starkly contrasts the militarism of the invading Communists with the humanistic, nonviolent principles of Tibetan Buddhism.

In military terms, this seems to be a mismatch that grossly favors the occupiers. Yet, as Victress Hitchcock’s documentary When the Iron Bird Flies argues (and Lemle’s film largely seconds) Tibet Buddhism has lost all the battles yet it has already won the war. Which has more international adherents, Tibetan Buddhism or whatever the CP currently calls its “Chinese Dream” Crony Capitalistic-Socialist ideology? Who is more respected globally, His Holiness or Xi-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed? There is no contest.

Of course, it does not hurt Lemle’s film that the 14^th Dalai Lama is such a warm, charismatic, and often witty figure (for instance, he archly comments, if the Party now believes in reincarnation so strongly, they should go find the reincarnated Mao.). Lemle, who previously documented His Holiness in Compassion in Exile, once again secured first-class access and continued to share a real rapport with his subject. He also deserves credit for his nonpartisanship, including an insightful segment with former President George W. Bush, the first sitting president to appear publicly with His Holiness. Highly recommended, The Last Dalai Lama? opens this Friday (7/28) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Pema Tseden’s Tharlo

For centuries, the sight of a shepherd with a pony tail has been common place in Tibet. However, things have changed in the nation, just as the occupying power intended. Filmmaker Pema Tseden often pointed out such truths—getting arrested and badly battered for his efforts—or so international observers suspect. Again, details are sketchy, just as the Communist authorities want them. The circumstances surrounding Tseden’s incarceration and hospitalization makes the piteous fate of his latest cinematic protagonist all the more poignant. In addition to the cultural oppression, the CP occupation also has a corrosive moral influence in Tseden’s Tharlo (trailer here), which opens a week-long run this Wednesday at MoMA.

Tharlo has come to the nearest provincial administrative center to receive his I.D. card, but has no context for the errand. Frankly, he is not even used to being addressed by name. Never before has he had to prove his identity. Of course, the local police chief finds Tharlo’s bemusement amusing. He is also condescendingly impressed by the Tibetan shepherd’s ability to recite a long Chairman Mao speech, even though mostly of the ideological meaning is lost on him.

Of course, an I.D. card needs a photo, so Tharlo will have to visit the local photographer catering to such business. She in turn sends him across the street to get his hair washed by the hairdresser, Yangtso. She makes quite an impression on the traditional herder with her short hair and modern attitudes. She also happens to be young and attractive. The flirtatious time they share together leads Tharlo to question his pastoral life, but his growing doubts will distract him at inopportune times.

Adapting his own novella, Tseden creates a parable of modernist temptation and subsequent downfall that eclipses Dreiser in its tragic significance. Although the local authorities are not Tharlo’s direct antagonists, Tseden makes it clear they created the climate that made his victimization possible.  The film is also visually stunning thanks to the vastly cinematic vistas of Tharlo’s Tibetan plains and Lu Songye’s stark black-and-white photography.

Despite the rugged locales, Tharlo is a relentlessly intimate film filled with uncomfortable silences and telling moments. As the title character, Tibetan comedian Shide Nyima looks like his picture should be in the dictionary next to the term “world-weary.” His haggardness is plain to see, but his innocence is just as palpable. He and Tibetan actress-vocalist Yangshik Tso develop some highly ambiguous but undeniably potent romantic chemistry together. Rather than just playing the femme fatale, she gives the worldly Yangtso subtle flesh and blood dimension.

Initially, Tharlo’s ability to rattle off Mao’s secular sermon seems rather surreal, but the third act reprise is so bitterly ironic it might leave an aftertaste of bile behind. Yet, Tseden is primarily a stroryteller, who only lets political implications seep in through osmosis. Nevertheless, there is clearly more truth in his films (such as Old Dog) than the Party is comfortable with. Highly recommended for viewers with adult attention spans, Tharlo opens this Wednesday (9/28) at MoMA.

Doc Fortnight ’16: Paths of the Soul

These Tibetan pilgrims have utterly nothing in common with Chaucer’s. They will tell no bawdy stories and engage in absolutely no untoward behavior. Their devotion is real, as is the danger they face while making the 1,200 mile journey to Lhasa, straight down Tibet’s National Highway 318 in Zhang Yang’s docu-hybrid Paths of the Soul (trailer here), which screens as part of the 2016 Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Nyima’s uncle Yang has always been a father figure to him, so he readily agrees to accompany the patriarch when he resolves to finally make his pilgrimage. Eventually, eleven members of the extended family are chosen for the trek. Each will have their particular reasons for joining, but all share a deep but unfussy belief in the tenets of Tibetan Buddhism.

The pilgrimage is especially meaningful for Uncle Yang, who always regrets his younger brother died before he could make the journey he always talked about. In accordance with their selfless faith, Nyima’s teenaged sons will be praying for the two laborers who died while constructing their house. The presence of the pregnant Tsring initially seems completely baffling, but the karmic benefits for her baby are apparently well worth the effort if she delivers during the pilgrimage. Likewise, the ritual journey hardly looks appropriate for the ten or eleven-ish Gyatso, but what she learns will last a lifetime.

Spanish Catholics might think the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela is a tough road to travel, but they have nothing on Tibetan Buddhists. Yang and his family are not merely walking over two thousand kilometers, with their tractor trailing behind. They must stop after every three or four steps to kowtow. That entails complete prostration on the busy mountain highway. To facilitate these regular acts of obeisance, they wear the pilgrims’ clothes: full body aprons and hand-planks.

This is an absolutely grueling film, but also a powerfully moving one. Yang and clan will endure inclement weather, rock slides, and one auto accident. Yet, there is also hope and hospitality to be found along the way. Throughout it all, their faith and their family cohesion are too strong to even be tested. Watching them plug ahead is truly awe-inspiring. To what extent the non-professional actors are playing themselves or namesake characters hardly matters (either way, they are incredible), because the conditions they endure are more than real enough. By the time they reach Lhasa, you hope to see the Dalai Lama himself triumphantly swoop down on a giant golden eagle to personally bless each one of them.

In all honesty, Paths of the Soul is one of the least showiest, but most profound films about religious faith in action you might ever see. The fact it was produced and approved for distribution in China is a not so minor miracle. Perhaps the state censors were hoping the arduousness of their journey would dissuade others from making similar Lhasa pilgrimages. However, the dignity and purity of the pilgrims’ faith is unmistakable and tremendously stirring. Very highly recommended, Paths of the Soul screens again today (2/27), as part of this year’s Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

BYkids: My Country is Tibet

He was seventeen years old at the time of filming and had never set foot in his country, but Tibet’s teenaged king in exile would still be a much more enlightened ruler than the occupying Chinese military and their puppets. Namgyal Wangchuk Trichen Lhagyari is a student, who lives like many Tibetan refuges in India, but in addition to being a king, he is also a filmmaker. Namgyal Wangchuk, the 18^th Trichen Lhagyari documents his life and the living conditions of other Tibetan exiles in My Country is Tibet (trailer here), produced by his mentor Dirk Simon, which premieres this Sunday on New York’s Thirteen, as part of the BYkids showcase of youthful filmmakers.

Student, filmmaker, and nice kid—that would be a pretty good place for most teens to start at, but Namgyal Wangchuk is not like typical high school students. He was officially crowned as the King of Tibet, by His Holiness, the Dalai Lama. His father, the 17^th Trichen Lhagyari, spent over twenty years in a Communist prison cell. After his release, the reigning Dharma King heeded the Dalai Lama’s advice and sought asylum for his family in India.

For the record, Tibet’s Dharma King does not seem to be the sort of centralized potentate one might imagine. After all, the 17^th Trichen Lhagyari was also elected to several terms in the exiled government’s parliament. Regardless, 18 clearly feels a responsibility for his people, even while he washes his own clothes in his family’s modest home.

With the help of Simon, Trichen Lhagyari 18 also explains the efforts of the expatriate Tibetan community to preserve their language and culture. Frankly, the extent of the Communist Party’s cultural ethnic cleansing is horrific, but grassroots organizations like the Rajpur Tibetan Refugee Factory persevere nobly.

Modest but charismatic, Namgyal Wangchuk Trichen Lhagyari is an absolutely super public spokesman for the Tibetan people. As a mentor, Simon shared a special affinity for his protégé and the people of Dharamshala, having defected from East Germany to the FRG as a young man. Although just twenty-seven minutes, My Country gives viewers a nutshell recap of CCP aggression and an immersive sense of life for the Tibetan community in exile. The truth is, the King represents his people quite well. Highly recommended for teens of all backgrounds, My Country is Tibet airs this Sunday (1/31) on participating PBS stations nationwide.

Tibetan Warrior: Loten Namling Campaigns Against China’s Occupation

An optimist might argue Tibetan Buddhism has already defeated Maoist Communism, because it continues to rapidly gain converts around the world, while nobody believes in the CCP, not even the Politburo. His Holiness, the Dalai Lama is globally revered, whereas those who know of Premier Li Kequiang are generally not favorably disposed towards him. However, pessimists will counter nonviolence is doomed to fail against a government that ruthless massacred its own people at Tiananmen Square. Traditional Tibetan musician and activist Loten Namling is definitely a glass-is-half-empty sort of person, but he continues to do his part to advance the cause of Tibetan freedom through nonviolent means. However, the increasingly oppressive situation in occupied Tibet and the alarming reports of self-immolation protest-suicides escalates the urgency of his efforts in Dodo Hunziker’s documentary Tibetan Warrior (trailer here), which releases today on DVD and VOD.

Namling is Tibetan, but he has never set foot in his country. He was raised in Dharamsala, but Switzerland has been his home for many years. Namling has achieved some prominence popularizing Tibetan music, even performing for His Holiness. Not surprisingly, music will play a role in his latest campaign, but that will be the easy part. First he will make a pilgrimage from Bern to Geneva, on foot, dragging a coffin to raise awareness of Tibet’s plight. Once he has completed his journey, he will play in a consciousness-raising concert, co-organized by Franz Treichler of the New Gods.

When Namling set off on his trek, thirty-some Tibetans had self-immolated. In a relatively short period of time, the number rises above one hundred thirty. Maddeningly, the only media outlet reporting on the phenomenon is the Chinese propaganda media, which blames the “Dalai Clique.” Ironically though, His Holiness advocates a non-confrontational policy of coexistence known as the Middle Way Approach. Namling is losing confidence in the Middle Way and his is deeply disappointed in the Swiss government’s proposed free trade agreement with Beijing. Nevertheless, he is only too aware of the Chinese government’s overwhelming military and economic power.

This is a grim conundrum viewers will grapple with, along with the frustrated Namling. He might be an activist, but Namling is not an idiot. In fact, he is refreshingly down to earth. He never claims to have all the answers, but he is certainly eloquent explaining the problems. His concern for the long-term survival of Tibetan culture and the health of the country’s once pristine environment are entirely justifiable.

One can immediately see why Hunziker focused in on Namling as his subject. He is a charismatic, interesting looking figure who really fills the screen. He is not a poseur chanting slogans. His life has been shaped by the occupation, fragmenting his family. It is a sobering and timely film that gives audiences a fuller perspective on the Tibetan exile experience. Respectfully recommended for everyone concerned about human rights in Tibetan and the predatory destruction of ethnic cultures, Tibetan Warrior is now available on DVD and VOD, from Garden Thieves Pictures.

Cinema on the Edge: Animated Shorts

Over the years, the CCP has been overtly hostile to many expressions of regional and national cultural tradition, but nowhere more so than in occupied Tibet. Therefore, programming shorts that bring Tibetan folktales to life through animation inspired by Thangka painting would not endear a film festival to the Party authorities. Not surprisingly, the Beijing Independent Film Festival did so anyway. Fittingly, two of Bai Bin’s Tibetan films anchor a program of animated shorts, which screens as part of the Cinema on the Edge retrospective to the fearlessly indie fest.

There is no question Bai Bin’s The Hunter and the Skeleton is the head-and-shoulders high point of the animated block. In this ancient tale, a hunter rashly heads off in search of game, despite the shaman’s warning. It turns out, this is an inauspicious time for such pursuits, because a demonic skeleton has been hunting hunters. Yet, for some reason, the fiend likes this hunter. First he gives the man a seven day extension before eating him. Then he offers the man a deal—he will be spared if he leads the skeleton to his village. Stalling for time, the man will have to defeat his new “friend” with only the help of his talisman and his trusty hunting dog.

There are real stakes in Skeleton, as well as a rather macabre sensibility, which is why it is even grabbier than Bai Bin’s environmentally-themed An Apple Tree. In both films, the vibrant Thangka colors and stylized figures are unlike anything you have seen in animation before. These are unusually striking films that tap into centuries-old mojo. Any self-respecting animation fan needs to check them out.

In contrast, several of the other animated selections are much less accessible to mainstream animation fans. Zhong Su’s Perfect Conjugal Bliss and Ding Shiwei’s Double Act play a double game, contrasting and conflating images of the authoritarian state with post-industrial decay and class stratification, respectively. Visually, they are often surreal, which helps confuse the censors and maintain plausible deniability.

This is even more the case with Zhang Yipin’s How, a sort of distaff, dystopian Little Nemo, and Qiu Anxiong’s abstract, avant-garde environmental apocalyptic fable, The New Book of Mountains and Seas Part 2. While Zhou Xiaohu’s Mirror Room holds considerably fewer political implications, the sexualized gender-bending imagery is even more likely to provoke the Puritanical authorities’ wrath.

After Bai Bin’s film, the next most aesthetically and emotionally engaging selection is easily Chen Li-hua’s Family Reunion. Following the trials and tribulations of A-mei, an aboriginal migrant worker, it too celebrates regional cultural traditions, while dramatizing the challenges faced by itinerant laborers.

While somewhat uneven, the collected independent animated shorts are often challenging both in terms of visual style and thematic substance. However, the preponderance of ambiguous narrative forms eventually blurs the constituent films together. Still, the program is well worth seeing for the wonderfully rich and distinctive work of Bai Bin and Chen Li-hua. Recommended for connoisseurs of animation and experimental film, Cinema on the Edge’s animated film program screens this Thursday (9/10) at the Museum of Chinese in America (MoCA).

Hannah: Buddhism’s Untold Journey, at the Rubin

How did an impossibly serene Dane wind up in the middle of a struggle for the soul of Tibetan Buddhism? Along with her husband Ole, Hannah Nydahl earned a place at the table as arguably the religion’s busiest Twentieth Century evangelists. She was scrupulously spiritual rather than ideological, but Nydahl’s travels took her to some of the most politically contentious corners of the globe. Marta György-Kessler & Adam Penny chronicle her life in Hannah: Buddhism’s Untold Journey (trailer here), which has three more special screenings this Friday and Saturday at the Rubin Museum of Art.

The Nydahls were basically hippies when they somehow beamed themselves to Kathmandu, but thanks to the innocence of youth, the revered Bhutanese lama Lopon Tsechu Rinpoche first took them under his wing, before entrusting their studies to His Holiness the 16^th Gyalwa Karmapa, one of the most venerated lines of reincarnated lamas in Tibetan Buddhism. Before his death, the Karmapa sent them back to the west to share their teachings. After a bit of scuffling, the Nydahls soon found they had a talent for outreach, becoming tireless road warriors.

Some of the film’s most intriguing sequences contrast the guileless Nydahls with the extreme socio-political climates they blithely walked into. Bizarrely, the Communist government granted the Nydahls permission to visit pre-Marital Law Poland, in the vain hope Tibetan Buddhism would undermine the Catholic Church. Needless to say, it was a tense trip, but the bonds of some lasting friendships were formed then.

However, Untold is truly newsworthy for its insider account of the disputed elevation of the 17^th Karmapa. It is a case Westerners might be hazily aware of. Communist China (Tibet’s atheist occupiers, who had previously denied the legitimacy of reincarnation) officially recognized one Karmapa, while leaders in exile recognized another. György-Kessler & Penny provide full context to the controversy, explaining the implications of each development, while largely relying on footage of the Nydahls recorded in-the-moment.

To their credit, the Nydahls did not rush to judgement. However, when the time came, they acted decisively to protect His Holiness, Trinley Thaye Dorje, the rival of China’s compliant candidate. Just when you thought the Communist government could not sink any lower, György-Kessler & Penny document thuggish behavior that manages to lower the bar even further.

For those who are fascinated by Tibetan Buddhism and Chinese geo-politics, the Karmapa crisis is clearly the film’s centerpiece. However, for the more right-brained and sentimentally inclined, the grand romance shared by the Nydahls always takes center stage. As a former friend and student of Hannah Nydahl, György-Kessler clearly has a deep appreciation for them as individuals. The portrait that emerges is sensitively rendered, but still quite intimate.

Frankly, the Nydahls were disgustingly attractive, charming, and calm, but they used their gifts selflessly on behalf of their faith and for the sake of others. You can get a sense of their stature from the interviews His Holiness, the 17^th Karmapa granted the filmmakers (but not the other guy). There is a lot to learn from Untold, but it is also a touching story. Highly recommended, Hannah: Buddhism’s Untold Journey screens again Friday night (5/8) and twice on Saturday (5/9) at the Rubin Museum of Art, Manhattan’s home for Himalayan art and culture.

SR ’15: Plundering Tibet (short doc)

This film was made possible by Google Earth and made necessary by the Chinese Communist Government. Most people of good conscious understand the occupying Chinese powers have sharply curtailed Tibet’s political and religious freedoms. However, the extent to which state-backed enterprises are currently despoiling the Tibetan environment remains a largely under-reported story. Canadian filmmaker Michael Buckley concisely and cogently exposes this systematic abuse in the short documentary Plundering Tibet (trailer here), a selection of the upcoming 2015 Socially Relevant Film Festival in New York.

Obviously, it is difficult to gain access to Tibet, especially if you have a history of speaking out against the Communist occupation (and if you don’t, perhaps you should ask yourself why not?). Even for those already within the country, many of the pertinent sites are forbiddingly remote. That had provided them a measure of protection, but with advances in technology, Chinese consortiums are now better able to access and extract remote mineral reserves. In many cases, like the recently discovered lithium deposits, the rapidly escalating value of Tibet’s natural resources now more than covers the cost and effort involved in their appropriation.

Needless to say, Tibetans receive no compensation from such plundering. That would be bad enough, in a conventionally venal way. However, Tibetan Buddhism celebrates the divine in the natural world and specifically recognizes many of these sites as sacred holy places. This is not simply exploitation. It also constitutes desecration.

Buckley lucidly but forcefully establishes the full significance of China’s policies of plunder, highlighting several especially egregious cases. Given his reliance on Google Earth, the look and the feel of the film is sometimes comparatively less cinematic than the standard issue-oriented documentary, but what choice did he have? At least he is able to illustrate his indictment with visual evidence. As a result, the film is quite convincing.

What is happening in Tibet is crime. Even those who do not consider themselves environmentalists should be alarmed by the state-sponsored defilement, out of respect for Tibetan cultural and religious traditions. One of the clear highlights of the Socially Relevant Film Festival (and one of the few selections mercifully not trying to gin up false pity and outrage for the “Palestinians”), Plundering Tibet screens this Tuesday (3/17) at the Maysles Cinema.

DOC NYC ’14: Miss Tibet

For ten years and counting, second and even third generation exiles have competed in a beauty pageant to represent a country they have never lived in. That nation is Tibet, still held captive by their Chinese Communist occupiers. Obviously, this is no ordinary beauty contest. While their numbers are small, their consciousness is high. Documentarian Norah Shapiro follows Tibetan-American Tenzin Khecheo as she competes for the tenth annual Miss Tibet crown in Miss Tibet: Beauty in Exile (trailer here), which screens during this year’s DOC NYC.

When most people think of Tibet, their mind’s eye pictures monasteries, temples, and snow-capped mountains—but glamor, no so much. Enterprising “impresario” Lobsang Wangyal set out to change that with the Miss Tibet pageant, envisioning it as a means of empowering young women and providing a focal point for national pride. Despite his obvious slickness, the pageant seems to be taking hold, even though there is often controversy surrounding the swimsuit competition.

Much of Exile explores that tension between tradition and modernizing influences through Khecheo’s eyes. Initially insecure about her rusty Tibetan, she dramatically reconnects with her cultural heritage. One of the cool aspects of the Miss Tibet contest is the extent to which Tibetan music, customs, and history are integrated into the program. However, there are problems with the pageant that will come to light, adding a note of unexpected ambivalence to the third act (but be assured, all of the contestants are clearly a credit to Tibet).

In contrast, there is no equivocating in Exile when it comes to the realities of China’s occupation. Shapiro’s historical context might come from an illustrated children’s book (quite an elegant one, really), but it is still right on the money. In fact, part of the impetus for the pageant in general and Khecheo’s personal participation is to raise international awareness, since conventional protests have produced no results to speak of. Let’s be honest, how much do you think Obama had to say about Tibet during the APEC summit in China?

Khecheo’s personal development arc and the cultural synthesis the pageant represents are all strong stuff that easily sustain the relatively short (a hair under seventy minutes) Exile. Yet, it raises issues of double standards that could have been explored further. At one point, we learn a previous Miss Tibet might have been allowed to compete in an international pageant, but China insisted “Miss Tibet, China” must have been emblazoned on her sash. She refused. You wonder how often that sort of thing happens. For instance, if a fictitious country like “Palestine” is allowed to submit films for best foreign language Oscar consideration, Tibet should have the same right. Yet, if they put Pema Tseden’s latest film into contention, would the Academy accept it or bow to Chinese pressure? How many other such instances might there be?

Regardless, Exile does what it does quite well. It follows a highly engaging and likable POV figure in Khecheo through a surprisingly dramatic journey. Perhaps most valuably, it offers a fuller, more diverse picture of Tibetan identity, while also providing a timely reminder of Tibet’s captive nation status. Highly recommended, Miss Tibet: Beauty in Exile screens this Sunday (11/16) and Monday (11/17) as part of DOC NYC 2014.