Paths of the Soul

Director: Yang Zhang

Though the world's faiths are separated by deities, one common trait they may all share are forms of asceticism, albeit to varying degrees. In Chinese director Yang Zhang's ethereally beautiful Paths of the Soul, we experience the grueling, self-imposed hardships of Tibetan Buddhists as they make their way from their village to Lhasa; the country's spiritual and governmental capitol. At times the film seems to straddle narrative and documentary storytelling forms but it would naive to assume all non-fiction films are objective and free of directorial manipulation. But for Zhang's film, this hardly matters because the story's power is conspicuous; fact or fiction.

Early in the film, we see the Tibetan villagers going about lives in their mostly technologically-free community. Though modern conveniences are few, the villagers survive as they probably have for centuries. And unlike what we might see in the western world, a strong communal spirit exists in the village. Neighbors call on neighbors for help, while also extending social invitations, like visits for tea. But we also see the devout spirituality of the villagers and familial prayer gatherings. We hear talk of pilgrimages and shortly thereafter, we see the logistical preparations for one to Lhasa. Supplies and religious accoutrements are gathered and crafted for the pilgrimage; woodblocks for the hands are cut and apron-like garments are fashioned from animal skins. Their functions become abundantly clear during the pilgrimage. Finally, we hear talk about "seeing the Lama."

Though the pilgrims are given no ceremonial send-off, other villagers inquire about their trip as the group makes their departure.

Save for an older Tibetan manning the vehicle that pulls their support cart, the other pilgrims practice kowtowing, which consists of first prostrating oneself with hands stretched in front of one's head (this is where the hand-blocks and aprons show their protective qualities) before rising, clapping the blocks together twice, taking several steps then repeating the process. What is particularly amazing is the distance they hope to cover, which, in this group's case, is 1200km (roughly 745 miles)! Even more amazing are the conditions in which the continual prostrating and rising is done. The high altitude, mountainous surroundings are often cold, rainy and snowy, while in narrow passages through the mountains, rocky landslides threaten their safety. Personal regard for comfort is minimal while the pilgrims remain undaunted by the distance they traverse. It is astonishing that nary a complaint is heard from anyone, not even from a young girl.

As part of the group's daily ritual, the kowtowing ceases at days-end for overnight rest in their camp they themselves make.

Zhang's film allows us to not only marvel at the group's devotion and superhuman stoicism in the face of deprivation but to gaze in wonder at the spectacular beauty of the mountain vistas the pilgrims (and we) see along the way. This is made possible by visual, panoramic still shots, which capture the treeless expanse and the breathtaking, snowy heights. Watching the pilgrims from extreme distances, the group appears as tiny specks amid the towering immensities. From such a magnificent perspective, we can understand why a faith that stresses self-abnegation and ego effacement would flower in a place like Tibet.

Along the way, significant moments interrupt the monotony. An expectant mother goes into labor, which necessitates a visit to the hospital. The infant becomes a pilgrim of sorts, riding along in the support cart. A perilous pass through avalanche-ridden hillsides wounds one Tibetan, making it necessary for the procession to temporarily halt its slow, forward progression. In another scene, the tractor hauling their gear is accidentally run off the highway, making it necessary for the group to pull the cart themselves. This they also perform without complaint and without sacrificing kowtowing movements. Pulling the cart ahead, the villagers stop, turn back and kowtow the distance wasted by the cart.

The group finally arrives in Lhasa, hoping to find an audience with a Lama, which they eventually secure. But their prolonged stay makes it necessary for them to find work, which they manage to accomplish performing odd jobs.
A scene where one young, male pilgrim seeks out a hairdresser for a haircut leads to flirtation. We see the courting impulse cannot be stayed by a spiritual quest.

It is in Lhasa that we learn the group leader's motives for undertaking the pilgrimage. An accident that claimed the lives of two people made it necessary to compensate the victim's families but the pilgrimage serves as means to atone for his actions.

In Lhasa, it becomes reasonable to think the journey might be at an end but the group continues on, hoping to reach the foot of a sacred mountain. En route, the group experiences a tragic loss; which forms a natural cycle of birth and death within the pilgrimage.

Zhang's film is quite powerful and staggeringly beautiful. Though the pilgrim's quest fulfills an abstract, spiritual need, the film captures its more earthy aspects. The soul may be intangible but its frail vessel, the human body, must bear the physical rigors the pilgrimage demands. A scene where the group must decide whether to prostrate through what appears to be cold, mountain runoff is met with equanimity and humor. The film can thus be said to be a confluence of the physical and spiritual.

By the film's conclusion, one may feel transported, through physical and metaphysical space; allowing one a rudimentary grasp of the Tibetan's sacrifice. The path to wisdom, enlightenment and purification is an arduous one, which the pilgrim's journey makes very clear. Zhang's expert camera work and unbelievable cinematography, as well as his wonderful storytelling, make Paths of the Soul a profound, cinematic experience.