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Seven Years in Tibet is a postcard of a movie By Gary Susman
Seven Years in Tibet plays less like a movie than a grand, meticulously drafted blueprint for the movie it wants to be, the movie that its true story deserves. Director Jean-Jacques Annaud has demonstrated, in such films as The Bear and The Lover, a greater facility for beautiful images and striking natural tableaux than for well-rounded characters. Accordingly, he fills Tibet with breathtaking sights -- stunning mountain vistas (the Andes, land of llamas, stands in for the land of lamas), ornate fabrics and sculptures, Brad Pitt's glorious flaxen hair -- and with thousands of extras but few substantive characters.
In the Himalayas, Harrer and Aufschnaiter endure many harrowing ordeals -- a lengthy internment in a British POW camp, a daring escape to Tibet (which was officially closed to foreigners), and a perilous journey to the capital, Lhasa. There, they find themselves surprisingly welcomed by an aristocracy eager for Western expertise. Harrer even becomes the tutor to the Dalai Lama (Jamyang Wangchuk), then a young boy. The relationship between the eagerly curious boy and the worldly outsider is the heart of the film. For all that Harrer teaches him about the outside world, the Dalai Lama teaches Harrer more -- that he cannot be a substitute for the son Harrer has never seen, that enlightenment comes through renunciation of the ego, and that Harrer can't save him when newly Communist China brutally annexes Tibet. This is that occasional Pitt movie in which he must act using resources other than his hair, as it's cut short for most of the film. He's certainly convincing in transforming Harrer from insufferably selfish into -- well, less selfish and somewhat chastened. More subtle work comes from Thewlis, essentially playing Harrer's conscience, and Wangchuk, as the ebullient yet preternaturally wise young lama.
Still, Becky (The Prince of Tides) Johnston's script reduces Harrer's
odyssey into two cliché'd Hollywood themes, father-and-son reconciliation
and an exotic culture tour through the eyes of a Westerner. Tibet nonetheless
eludes Harrer's (and the film's) feeble attempts to grasp it, and it haunts the
imagination in ways that Annaud's lovely visuals only hint at.
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