Spirituality of the least materialistic sort has little hope of flourishing in these parts, considering the eggs laid at the box office two years ago by “Kundun” and “Seven Years in Tibet,” and, before that, “Little Buddha.”
Indeed, Shirley MacLaine has a better chance of coming back as the Dalai Lama than do most stockpiled scripts set in the contested Himalayan state.
Having just seen Bhutanese filmmaker Khyentse Norbu’s small treasure, “The Cup,” however, it’s possible to walk away with the feeling that, perhaps, Hollywood might have made a mistake by being overly cautious and reverential on the subject of Tibet. China may make for the perfect villain in the battle over the future of the country — or province, depending on where you stand politically — but having a big bully to blame for the mess doesn’t always make for engaging cinema.
Norbu’s film does make several important points about contemporary Tibet, but the most compelling may also be the most obvious: Monks are people too.
” `The Cup’ doesn’t really have any spiritual or political message, but, having said that, I think I wanted to demystify the Tibetan experience for people in the West,” said Norbu, over salads and tea in the restaurant of the Le Meridien Hotel. “I also wanted to convince Tibetans that modern technology — cameras, phones, fax machines — aren’t threats to their culture, and they can take advantage of it.”
The personable 37-year-old lama — who, as a boy, was recognized to be the third incarnation of 19th Century religious reformer and saint Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo — drew on his own experiences as a spiritual leader for his and Bhutan’s first feature film.
“It was a bit autobiographical, in that I’ve played a disciplinary role myself at the monastery, and discovered young monks sneaking out of the monastery at night,” Norbu pointed out, in accented, but very good English. “In fact, they weren’t doing anything wrong, just sneaking out to watch football on the telly.”
Imagine that, young monks preoccupied with soccer in the exact same way that transistor-toting American schoolboys once were, before the networks turned the World Series into a prime-time marketing tool. Small world.
Simply put, “The Cup” is a humorous and humanistic story about how a group of Tibetan lamas diagnosed and cured an epidemic of World Cup fever among their students. The same film — minus the religious trappings — probably could have been made in France or Argentina, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun to watch, or as revealing.
“When I was working on the story, one of the conscious decisions I made was to demystify the Tibetan monks and lamas,” said Norbu, who wore a simple, brown monk’s habit, but otherwise was indistinguishable from other diners in the restaurant. “Many people in the West think they’re like gods . . . that they don’t move or breathe almost. I wanted to show the world that they are human beings and do the same things other people do, and like the same things other people like.
“It’s important that people realize that, because, otherwise, the truth could lead to big disappointments.”
Like, the aforementioned movies, perhaps.
“People back home liked `Kundun’ a lot, because they felt it was very authentic, but `Seven Years in Tibet’ probably was too much about Brad Pitt and not enough about Tibet,” observed Norbu, who caught the movie bug while working as a consultant to Bernardo Bertolucci on “Little Buddha.”
Yes, there are political messages to be found in “The Cup,” but they are mostly incidental to the basic storyline. The monks, of course, are only free to practice their religion in exile, and we know that several of the key characters recently made the dangerous trek from Tibet to India.
They risked their necks on the trip so they could experience a traditional Buddhist education. Nonetheless, some of the students will choose to go on to other professions, rather than stay in the monastery.
“India isn’t a rich country, but it’s been very generous,” stressed Norbu, who only became a soccer fan during the course of making the picture. “I had other ideas, but this was the most feasible financially . . . the monastery was there, the monks were there, and I didn’t have to pay them much. We didn’t use any professional actors, and, in fact, some of the monks had never seen a camera before.
“One of the boys who is shown escaping Tibet in the film actually had only been in India 10 days when we started shooting. I knew he would be perfect.”
Another young monk whom Norbu had his eye on for a key role was Jamyang Lodro, the 13-year-old son of the incarnate lama who, in the film, portrays the monastery’s stern, but reasonable head disciplinarian. Lodro plays the mischievous student who convinces two new refugees to join him on his nightly visits to a local restaurant, where other Tibetan exiles gather to watch the World Cup matches via satellite.
Lodro, a natural scene-stealer if there ever was one, was born and raised in a refugee settlement and studies Buddhism in the Chokling Monastery. In exchange for his efforts in the film, he only demanded a trip to Disneyland — although if he were to move to Hollywood, Lodro probably could have nailed a three-picture production deal, just like Alicia Silverstone.
Among the other stars of the movie are the Chokling Monastery’s real-life abbot — who can’t quite figure out why nations would fight over a cup and ball — and an eccentric yogi, who, as depicted, has never cut his hair.
“I’m actually more proud of writing the script than directing the movie,” Norbu said. “I owe a lot to my actors and my crew. I can see a lot of fault in my direction, but I think the script — which took me two years to write — actually was OK.”
How did it play back in Bhutan and India?
“Some of the older generation may have had second thoughts about me making the film, but they wouldn’t tell me that up front,” recalled Nordu, whose film-school training was limited to a two-week stint at the New York Film Academy. “I can understand their concerns because, in that part of the world, the films from India’s Bollywood are mostly about sex and violence. If only they could see Bergman’s `The Seventh Seal’ or Andre Tarkovsky’s the `Sacrifice,’ they’d understand cinema can be a powerful language.”
And, as for the possibility that any of the stars of “The Cup” will leave the monastery and show up on Richard Gere’s doorstep any time soon?
“Filmmaking may be glamorous in New York and Los Angeles, and young people might do anything to be in a movie . . . but not there,” he said. “If it happens, fine . . . if not, that’s OK, too. In fact, it was a little frustrating to me, because there wasn’t a lot of enthusiasm at times.
“For spiritual reasons, maybe that’s a good thing . . . why should they be ambitious, and captivated by that lifestyle?”
Because he lives in Bhutan, which was the subject of his first 24-minute film, “Ette Metto,” Norbu insists he isn’t directly involved with the Tibet-China debate. He is, however, throne-holder of the Dzongzar Monastery in eastern Tibet, as well as spiritual director of meditation centers in East Bhutan and Sikkim, and at Buddhist colleges in India and Bhutan.
Anyone who fears a donation made to Tibetan charitable causes might have wound up in the budget of “The Cup” can rest easy.
“The producer of `Little Buddha’ became a friend of mine, so much so that when I finished the final draft of my script, I was able to take it to him in London for advice,” Norbu explained. “He held on to it for a week. Then he called me to say he knew someone in New York who wanted to finance it.
“I was very lucky.”
Luck, like religion, will only get you so far, whether you’re in Tibet or Hollywood. Still, it would be great for “The Cup” to win an Academy Award, if for no other reason than to see if Norbu thanks Buddha in his acceptance speech.
