79. Kundun

Western films that explore the mysteries of Far Eastern religions are often told from the point of view of a Western journeyer with whom the audience can identify. But Kundun  is not a Westerner’s journey. Rather, it is the Dalai Lama himself who goes on a journey as he struggles to maintain Tibet’s independence from China. Kundun is told through the Dalai Lama’s eyes; his religious faith and beliefs mix freely with “objective” reality. We meet the Dalai Lama in 1937 when he is but two years old and reborn for the fourteenth time, living in a remote northeastern region of Tibet. With him, we learn about the world and watch as his childhood innocence is mercilessly stripped away. Philip Glass’s hypnotic blending of traditional Tibetan chanting and music with repetitive orchestral arrangements combines with the visuals to communicate almost everything we need to know in the mostly non-verbal early scenes.

Even Scorsese’s most beautiful films have a brutal energy, whether overt or implied. Though the director depicts almost none of the violence perpetrated by the Chinese army, he communicates murder and destruction through the Dalai Lama’s visions, in which jets of blood spew into a crystalline koi pond, for example, and the Dalai Lama becomes an insignificant speck in an ocean of red-robed corpses. Though a meditative, introspective film, Scorsese’s distinctive techniques cause Kundun to pulse with life under its calm surface. Never afraid to experiment, Scorsese has made a film that is spiritually beautiful, in addition to being literally so, with its lavish costumes and spectacular vistas. The result is a hallucinogenic affirmation of faith similar to Scorsese’s treatment of the life of Jesus in The Last Temptation of Christ. (Carlo Cavagna)