Review of 'The Monk and the Gun': Democracy dawns in Bhutan

To the unsuspecting, a title like “The Monk and the Gun” sounds like a promise: Are you preparing for a mythical showdown or a mystical parable? That was certainly what Bhutanese filmmaker Pawo Choyning Dorji had in mind when he brought this second feature to life, teasing us with hints of violence and wisdom before winning us over with a minimalist and serenely unconventional comedy.

Some qualities of “The Monk and the Gun” will seem like natural holdovers from the Oscar-nominated film that put this Buddhist writer-director on the map, the 2019 teacher-out-of-water tale “Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom.” “The new one retains the quiet preciousness of his debut: the deadpan sense of humor, a coldly observant interest in the division between city and country, and the sighs that Dorji wants to provoke in the Himalayan landscape. (Director of photography Jigme Tenzing , who was returning, was I suddenly going to forget how to capture the most stunning views in the world?)

What's different this time is a edgier story focused on elections and unrest, which is sure to resonate with anyone nervous about the weakness of civilization. The setting is 2006, when the king of Bhutan suddenly abdicated power, allowing the first vote of the country's entire citizenry to install a new leader, and sowing the belief that modernization of this picturesque outpost was within reach. around the corner.

As the remote town of Ura prepares for a mock election, Dorji is certainly having good-hearted fun with his nation's transition to democracy, recalling the air of bewilderment of a citizenry learning politics for the first time when it had only just gotten used to it. to television and the Internet. But Americans watching the film today (and remembering the aftermath of 2020) will bring with them different baggage when, in the opening moments, they are shown a religious leader somberly expressing his sadness at how things are changing and calling for guns to “things can be fixed.” again.” I swallow.

That said, this is a Buddhist world, so I can safely report that eyebrows are the only thing that can be raised in Dorji's humanly conceived and gently ridiculous exploration of newfound political consciousness. We meet a restless father (Choeying Jatsho) optimistic about his progressive candidate, even if it causes his daughter pain from her classmates, whose parents favor a more conservative contender. His wife (Deki Lhamo) is conflict-averse, but she has been tasked with helping visiting election officials, led by an exasperated bureaucrat (Pema Zangpo Sherpa), stir up enthusiasm among villagers who prefer to keep their king rather than importing a designed system. to turn them against each other.

Meanwhile, the obedient monk Tashi (Tandin Wangchuk), answering the call of his revered lama (Kelsang Choejey), isn't even the only character in search of a firearm. An American (Harry Einhorn) posing as a tourist has just made a long trip to little Ura in hopes of obtaining an antique Civil War rifle that he has learned is in the possession of a local elder. Helping to facilitate that transaction is a young, cash-strapped Bhutanese citizen (Tandin Sonam), whose actions (given that guns are almost completely banned in the country) draw the attention of the authorities.

Dorji's use of novice or inexperienced actors results in a mixed bag of performances, but not to any disruptive degree: the primary color in his mosaic is a casual, even proud naïveté. Similarly, the resolution of the gun thread could be criticized for its childish warning about social ills.

But I prefer to believe that a turn with spiritual dimensions, loaded with a message of hope, is better than one built on a false approach to the way people are. In an age when extremes in discourse always seem louder, the modest pleasures of “The Monk and the Gun” are appealingly reasonable. Brandishing new forms doesn't have to mean sheathing old ones.