The Monk and the Gun: A mesmerising celebration of innocence and culture
‘The Monk and the Gun’ is a Bhutanese film exploring the tensions between tradition and democracy through the eyes of a monk, amid the country’s shift towards parliamentary governance
Pawo Choyning Dorji, the director of the film 'The Monk and the Gun' (2023), came to the attention of the silver-screen world after his debut feature Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom (2019), which competed in the Best International Feature Film category at the 94th Academy Awards.
His second film, The Monk and the Gun, was also submitted as the Bhutanese entry in the same category at the 96th Academy Awards.
This political satire, set mostly in the town of Ura in 2006, follows the radical transition of Bhutan, when the country prepares itself to become the world's youngest democracy, following the King's official announcement of abdication and eagerness to transfer the throne to the elected parliamentary representatives.
However, the process meets complexity when rural people feel stranded between traditional customs and modernity. 'The Monk and the Gun' aims to untie the knots for the perplexed rural people – who think of election as a pig disease and a way to make people rude to each other.
The film opens with a luscious shot of a wheat meadow; the grain of wheat blows in Zephyr. The camera tilts up with a slight pan, and we see a young monk (Tashi) entering the frame. Then, we listen to the radio announcement about the upcoming nationwide mock election and news of the coming of an election official to Ura, with the young monk and an aged lama at their stupa.
After the announcement, the lama asks his acolyte to bring him two guns before the full moon to set things right. The compelling storytelling and the suspense of what a monk would do with guns leave the audience surprised, until everything connects together.
After the monks' conversation, the story traverses directly from Ura to Thimpu, with the 'Dire Straits' song 'Money for Nothing' in the background, and we see a young man counting dollars. This stunning juxtaposition creates the perfect foundation for the movie.
Director Dorji, a storyteller extraordinaire, gradually reveals other characters – an American (Ronald Coleman – who is seeking an antique rifle from the US Civil War), Benji (mediator and guide to the American) and his wife, Tshering Yangden (election official), Tshomo (a local woman whose family is splitting up due to the election), Choephel (Tshomo's husband), Yuphel (Tshomo's daughter), Tshomo's mother (who is not satisfied with her son-in-law supporting industrial development), and Phurba (assistant to Tshering).
As Tashi starts his journey to fulfill his vocation – the responsibility endowed upon him by the lama as an opportunity to collect merits, the story, complemented by the awe-striking cinematography of Jigme Tenzing, takes the audiences to a metaphoric fable with perceptive criticism.
With the help of Benji, the American travels to rural Ura and convinces the rural farmer to sell his vintage gun for a hefty amount so that he can pay all his debts. Tashi also gets to know about the gun and manages to take it from the farmer when Coleman and Benji go to the bank to withdraw the money.
Later, Benji and Coleman convince Tashi to give him two guns (as required by the monk) for the rusty rifle. The full moon approaches and the mock election is held with the participation of three fictional parties, representing three colours – Blue for freedom and equality, red for industrial development, and yellow for preservation.
Later, when Tashi gives the gun to the lama, the director answers the audience's desperate question of why a monk would need guns, with a brilliant, humane response.
In the film, Dorji demonstrated what potential he holds as a filmmaker, devoted to his people, roots, and culture, and how his country, despite being young to modern ways and technology, has so much to give to the rest of the world.
The aesthetically pleasant camera movements, sincere deliveries from not-so-professional actors, grand mountain landscapes, subtle but apt film score, the innocence of people, witty denouncements, and masterful direction altogether delivered more than just a political satire, but a film that you won't find on your watchlist even if you wanted to.
In the ending scene, we see the rainbow in the sky. Tashi leaves the frame, walking through a floral meadow, a likely resemblance to the ending shot of Akira Kurosawa's Dreams (Crows part) – a consonance between the opening and ending sequence – to an unknown journey filled with nothing but hope.
The same character (Tashi) takes us through this voyage. In the closing credits, we see a stationary shot of the rising sun, symbolising a new dawn for Bhutan.
In an interview, Dorji stated the distinctive identity of Bhutan – the essence of storytelling in his culture is of such high significance that they don't even have a word for 'storytelling.' To them, it is untying knots. It's an act that has the purpose of freeing, liberating, and untying.
In this film, Dorji remains true to the very spirit of his country and culture. He untied the knots on the perspective of 'being innocent is not being ignorant'; rather, innocence is something that should be celebrated.
He presented his logical argument about the influence of Americanism and gun culture through the portrayal of the character of Ron Coleman, and at the same time, the filmmaker embraced the changes that are inevitable.