The anti-Saint Francis

The highlight of my weekend was watching a ninety-minute movie made by amateurs, all speaking Tibetan.

If you are a Buddhist, especially a Tibetan Buddhist, you might guess what movie I mean; if not, you probably have not heard of Milarepa: Magician, Murderer, Saint .  It was made by a Tibetan monk and his monastic compatriots, with a little help from professional sound and camera people, as a tribute to Tibet’s greatest and most famous saint.

The story of Milarepa is good cinematic material.  Little Thoepaga, as he was originally named, is the firstborn son of a wealthy and prosperous man.  Everything looks good for him until his father dies when Thoepaga is still a boy.  The dying man entrusts his estate to his brother and sister-in-law, bidding them administer it until Thoepaga comes of age.  They betray his trust and soon strip Thoepaga, his mother, and his little sister of all their property, reducing them to field laborers who cannot afford enough to eat, let alone new clothes.

When Thoepaga comes of age, his mother Kargyen holds a party, invites the whole village, and formally requests her brother-in-law to return his brother’s estate to his nephew.  The brother-in-law shamelessly insists that the estate and the wealth was always his, never his brother’s.  No one intervenes to prevent this injustice, and Kargyen finally breaks; she sells the last of her resources to acquire a sum of money with which she can send her son to a teacher who will initiate him into sorcery so that he can take revenge on his aunt and uncle by magical means.

Apparently one does not argue with one’s mother in traditional Tibet.  Thoepaga takes the money, says good-bye to Zesay, the girl who would have been his wife, and runs.

The movie presents this material very simply and straightforwardly.  Such is the power of the story itself that the scenic locations, the untrained performances, and the special effects all work together to create an engaging film.  Young Thoepaga gains the revenge his mother craved, in a scene with rather impressive effects, only to realize that it has accomplished nothing; his mother is still desperately poor, and he must flee from the surviving villagers who wish to take his life.  The film ends with Thoepaga leaving his sorcerous teacher in search of a different kind of instructor, one who will show him how to deal with the karma he has generated and escape the hell he has earned.  Not since the second Star Trek movie opened have I been so pleased to know that there will be a sequel, portraying Thoepaga’s transformation into Milarepa.

St. Francis of Assisi famously stripped himself bare in the public square in renunciation of his claims on his father’s wealth.  Young Milarepa pursued sorcery and killed thirty-five people because he was denied his father’s wealth.  It doesn’t sound like an auspicious beginning, yet Mila is considered by Tibetans to be their greatest adept, the most realized of practitioners.  He lived freely and joyously in the harshest environments, wearing only a white cloth (the meaning of the “-repa”), and spontaneously composing songs of the Dharma.  He taught many students and enlightened many hearers through his songs.  He proclaimed himself at peace with everything–wild animals, demons, blizzards, all the universe.  And Tibetans love to point out that he was the most ordinary person, not someone inclined from childhood to spiritual practice, but a murderer who sought the Dharma from fear of hell and attained incredible freedom.  I find it impossible not to love Mila as much as the Tibetans do.  If you have any taste for indie film, rent Milarepa and have a taste of enlightenment in cinematic form.