Unmistaken Child, Nati Baratz

For a gentle two hours, we watch as Tenzin Zopa, a Tibetan monk, searches in the valleys of Nepal and Tibet for the reincarnation of his master, Geshe Lama Konchog. In an apt symmetry, Tenzin returns to the valleys where Lama Konchog often retreated, to the same village of his birth, from where the master had once taken the young Tenzin. So the master becomes the child, the child the master.

There is no omniscient narrator, only Tenzin at the beginning recounting his feelings of depair at the death of Geshe La. Thereafter, the viewer is an eavesdropper on the very intimate project of locating and identifying his beloved master. The film's most joyful scenes feature Tenzin playing with the child, clearing demonstrating his deep devotion to the master.

Not surprisingly the most visually "authentic" moments are in the mountain villages, accessible only by foot. Except for the occasional Nike shirt or modern gadget, these peoples live in ways that probably have not changed much in the past century. Equally "authentic" are the scenes in the Buddhist temples. Inside the monks' quarters, however, it's like a shrine to Walmart consumerism, not in the quantity of goods--though there's more than I'd expect--but in the quality of the goods: the same shoddily made stuff found at discount retailers in the west.

Though the cinematographer had great vistas, mysterious interiors, and fascinating faces as his subject, the quality of the film was little better than a home video.

Recommend.