Sundance Review: Angry Monk - Reflections on Tibet
Filed under: Documentary, Foreign Language, Sundance, Theatrical Reviews, Festival Reports, Politics, Cinematical Indie

By titling his documentary about the life of Tibetan Buddhist monk Gendun Choephel Angry Monk, director Luc Schaedler sets out to deliberately set a tone for the contradiction inherent in his film. One does not, after all, normally think of a monk, especially a Buddhist monk, as "angry". There is another layer of contradiction in this film as well, though. Schaedler is critical of what he calls "conservative" Tibetan culture - those members of the Tibetan community who struggled to maintain the traditions of Tibet and who resisted the influence of outside influences on their society. In his film, however, Schaedler paints a narrow and one-sided view of both Choephel and Tibetan culture.
Choephel, born in 1903, was believed to be a reincarnation of a Buddhist lama. In his narrative, Schaedler provides this information almost dismissively, but the belief in reincarnations of lamas is an integral part of Tibetan Buddhism and Tibetan culture. The Dalai Lama living today, for example, is the Fourteenth incarnation of the Dalai Lama, and was identified as such at the age of two through a series of tests to determine his authenticity. As a Westerner, Schaedler doesn't have to hold the same beliefs as Tibetan Buddhists, of course, but as a filmmaker documenting and criticizing a culture he has studied, he says in the director's notes, since 1988, one might expect him to not be quite so blase about a belief that is an integral part of that culture. Choephel was sent, as many Tibetan boys were and still are, to a monastery at the age of four, to begin his training as a monk. Choephel was a bright student who questioned everything, and as he grew older he came to question more and more whether Tibetan culture was stagnating because of the refusal of the Tibetan government, largely controlled at that time by the monasteries, to learn about and integrate knowledge from other cultures.
In 1934, after studying as a monk for most of his life, Choephel left the monastery to travel to India. He recorded his travels and his impressions of new lands both in writing and in drawings, researched both ancient Buddhist texts and modern history extensively, and began to write about Tibet, its political history, and the need for change and integration of the ideas of other cultures. The film is constructed to mirror the path of Choephel's travels, with archival footage blended with modern footage that, quite often, mirrors the historical images. We are guided along the path of Choephel's life and travels by a voiceover narrative (annoyingly written in the first person, which made it difficult at times to figure out whether the narrative was talking about the past or the present), interspersed with interviews from Tibetans who actually knew (or at least had met) Choepel. The interviews are the best part of the film - they paint a portrait of a very bright and complex man who struggled against the bounds of tradition, and who was much more open than many of his time to learning new things.
Choephel's wife, who lived with him only a couple years after his release from prison, notes that he probably would have lived longer had he not drank so profusely, and says that at the end, he had deteriorated into a monster. Schaedler maintains on the one hand that Choephel remained a Buddhist his entire life, while on the other presenting us with interviews that totally contradict this: his excessive drinking and frequenting of brothels during his travels - his traveling companion claims in an interview that Choephel bragged about "screwing five or six women a night" - and especially his deterioration following his three year imprisonment by the Tibetan government. After his release, Choephel was despondent and would not go to the temple. In one interview it is recounted how, when Buddhist scholars came to question him, Choephel blew smoke in the face of a Buddha statue and bragged of dousing a Buddha statue in beer. This kind of behavior may be angry, all right, but it's very far from the ideals of a Buddhist, much less a Tibetan Buddhist monk.
Schaedler clearly has an agenda with this film to push his own ideal of a free Tibet. What he overlooks, however, is that the monks and the nuns and the monasteries are also an integral part of Tibetan culture. Before Buddhism came to Tibet, Tibet was historically a feared and war-mongering country that frequently raided other countries. The history of Tibet itself is very much about the pull of violence on one side and peace on the other. Schaedler could have done more justice to an overall perspective on Tibetan culture in the film by not deliberately excluding the point of view of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama or from Tibetan Buddhist monks and scholars with a different perspective than the scholars he chose to interview, who all, oddly enough, mirror Schaedler's own views on the necessity of preventing Tibetan culture from "stagnating". In his zest to make a different kind of documentary about Tibet, Schaedler goes too far in showing only the point of view that bolsters his own opinion, which ultimately weakens the film. As a result, Angry Monk becomes less a film about Gendun Choephel, the monk, the man, and the scholar, and more a film that uses Choephel's life as a metaphor to drive Schaedler's view on the politics of Tibet.










Reader Comments (Page 1 of 1)
2-10-2006 @ 10:40AM
luc schaedler said...
My main problem with kim voynar's article on my film ANGRY MONK is that she creates a (wrong) impression of knowing the subject she is writing about.
I would like to make three points:
1. I deliberately decided on the title 'angry monk' exactly for the inherent contradiction, since monks are (in our view) not supposed to be 'angry'. in a very similar way, as all tibetans are not supposed to be 'angry', 'violent' or 'too impatient' - they just have to be the good people (we want them to be). well, sorry to say, but life (in exile and under chinese rule) is a bit more complicated than that.
2. I'm accused of 'using' gendun choephel's life to talk, much less about him, than my own personal views of tibet (and its history). again, kim has a point here, but a wrong one. I clearly stated in the beginning of my film that, for me, gendun choephel is a key to understand the contraditions of tibet (past and present). I never promised a biography, but rather a travel ('road-movie'), in the footsteps of this rebellious monk. one idea of adding the subtitle 'reflections on tibet', was exactly to declare that the film is neither a biography of gendun choephel, nor a history lesson, but my reflections on tibet. (has she seen the film, I'm wondering?)
3. kim finds another contradiction in my stating that gendun choephel remained a buddhist all his live and the anecdotes of him blowing smoke in the face of buddha, drinking and screwing women. if she was up to the subject she writes about, she should know that there is an old (and still strong) tradtition of 'crazy saints' in tibet. with his provocative style, gendun choephel was purposely drawing from this tradition. it was tibet's greatest saint milarepa, who walked around nakedly, trying to make a point that in real buddhahood, clothes (and social conventions) are mere concepts of the mind...
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2-10-2006 @ 1:23PM
Jay Allen said...
Re: the director's comments about "crazy saints". Kim (who's my wife) and I are aware of this tradition, which extends at least back to the great Tantric saint Virupa, who was asked to leave Nelanda University when his "immoral" behavior came to the attention of students and teachers. Legend has it that strange women were visiting him every night, which everyone thought were his concubines; in eosteric reality, they were Goddesses who were teaching Virupa the Tantric tradition. (Virupa's teachings still exist today in the lineages of Tibetan Buddhism.) In more recent times, the great Chogyan Trungpa Rinpoche embodied this tradition.
To be a "crazy saint", however, one must be very, very spiritually advanced. If I recall correctly, Virupa was at the sixth bumi (stage of Bodhisattva-hood) when he used his siddhis to cause the sun to stop rotating - so that he could spend several days drinking at the king's expense! However, it's fair to question whether someone who's asking like a "crazy saint" is really a saint, or whether they simply "lost it". Many people consider Trungpa Rinpoche went over the edge; others insist he was acting out of the enlightened bodhi heart, and that we can't judge his actions until we can dwell on that same spiritual level.
Long story short, there can be open debate about whether someone is acting out of sainthood or out of immorality. Kim thought Choephel's actions tended toward the latter. I look forward to seeing the film myself, and coming to my own conclusion. (I didn't have the good fortune to go to Sundance - someone had to stay here and watch the kids. ;-)
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2-19-2006 @ 1:07PM
Felix Holmgren said...
I'll just add to this discussion that a lot of Tibetans today regard Gendun Chopel as not only the most important Tibean scholar of the last century, but as a saint. Not everyone of course, but a lot of people. Several highly educated monks that I've talked with, while acknowledging that it's impossible to judge another's behaviour, strongly believe that Gendun Chopel was a highly advanced yogi. Others believe that he was a demon in disguise.
Whether he was a saint or not, I don't think we need to doubt that he remained a Buddhist all his life (although not, of course, a monk). On his death bed, GC had a disciple read for him two famous texts expressing the Buddhist view of reality. Angry Monk isn't, in my eyes, concerned primarily with spiritual issues, so I don't think this whole discussion has too much to do with assessing the film. But I do think the most fascinating aspect of GC was his ability to distance himself from the social and political structures of Tibet and absorb modern ideas, while remaining very much a Buddhist. In fact, he sought to serve his religion by identifying the cultural ballast which had come to wheigh it down.
I'm not implying that there is anything modern about going to brothels, but the fact is that GC contributed a lot to Tibetan culture in his lifetime. Tibetans in general weren't very interested in what he had to say until they themselves were forced into exile, and so, involuntarily, came to follow in his footsteps. For the younger generation of Tibetan exiles, GC has become one of the primary examples to turn to ("oddly enough" in Voynar's view) in trying to create a Tibetanness that can exist in the modern world, and isn't merely trying to satisfy the romantic projections of westerners.
In any case, this discussion shows just what an interesting and important figure GC was and still (increasingly) is. I recommend Donald Lopez's recent book "The Madman's Middle Way" to everyone who wants to find out more about GC and his times.
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