This story of the life cycle of a Buddhist monk and an apprentice living in near isolation on a floating pagoda in the middle of a lake is beautifully filmed. The images and music create a distinct mood - the scenes of the apprentice doing T'ai Chi (?) on the snow and ice are poetic. But I had some real problems with the story.
First, some technical concerns. Many scenes seemed contrived or not believable. For example, when the old monk ties the stone on the sleeping child, can it be believed that the kid would not wake? Or that he would not notice his new burden sometime during the night? The interior of the pagoda was exceedingly sparse, but no end of things kept coming out of it: ropes, stones, ice chisels, clothes, paints, and so forth. The doorway in the middle of the empty room irritated me every time someone felt obligated to walk through it when walking around it would have been much easier. How did these people earn their living? In thinking about the scene where the apprentice is hanging from the ceiling in a sling on the end of a rope with a candle burning under the support, I wondered just what the mechanics were of arranging that. The old monk seemed pretty weak, too weak to tie the apprentice up and hoist him several feet into the air. And what was supporting the rope from the ceiling? Was there a pulley up there? How was the rope affixed to its ceiling support? Where did that aluminum can come from that the police were shooting at? It was the only item ever to mar the pristine beauty of the lake, and at just the appropriate time. And the old monk was able to flick a stone and hit it on the first try? And he just happened to have a small pebble in his hand right then? Painting all those carved characters with a cat's tail would require a mighty patient cat. And where did all those colored paints come from? The hole that the apprentice chipped into the ice was nowhere big enough for the woman to fall through. And so on.
Now that I have run through some of the petty concerns of a literalist, I can move on to what really bothered me about this story. The overall message appears to be that isolating yourself from society is the path to some higher state. Even if that were true, it seems like a selfish goal. Much more challenging and useful is to attain balance in the midst of the chaos that is living in the world. The old monk utters the words, "Lust awakes the desire to possess. And that awakens the intent to murder," as if to express some deep insight. However, it is the rare person who has not experienced lust, but only a tiny percentage of those ever have an intent to kill. These words from the wise man seem patently false. But, in the context of this film the words have a more potentially worrisome significance. Perhaps the import of the words carried such weight for the apprentice that the intimation planted in the mind effected the deed. The lessons meted out by the master seemed exceedingly harsh. If tying a stone to a snake were to kill the snake and the snake were to die, then the kid would have to carry that burden with him for life? What a traumatic thing to say to an innocent kid. If as a kid I had had a super moralist following my every move, as this kid did, I would have gone nuts. I found the sadomasochistic beating to be disturbing and repellent. And what is the deal with the worshiping of icons? I though the sacred was in the mind and not in physical objects? If everybody were to absorb the teachings of the master, then our race would soon die out since sex seems to be avoided at all cost. I have found that an intense day of tedious activity indeed produces exhaustion, as did the apprentice, but it never seemed to be a path to the catharsis and peace that the apprentice experienced after his ordeal. And the master could beckon an empty boat to him or impede the rowing of two vigorous men by force of mind? Give me a break.
There is too much Eastern philosophy and mysticism here for this Western viewer.
First, some technical concerns. Many scenes seemed contrived or not believable. For example, when the old monk ties the stone on the sleeping child, can it be believed that the kid would not wake? Or that he would not notice his new burden sometime during the night? The interior of the pagoda was exceedingly sparse, but no end of things kept coming out of it: ropes, stones, ice chisels, clothes, paints, and so forth. The doorway in the middle of the empty room irritated me every time someone felt obligated to walk through it when walking around it would have been much easier. How did these people earn their living? In thinking about the scene where the apprentice is hanging from the ceiling in a sling on the end of a rope with a candle burning under the support, I wondered just what the mechanics were of arranging that. The old monk seemed pretty weak, too weak to tie the apprentice up and hoist him several feet into the air. And what was supporting the rope from the ceiling? Was there a pulley up there? How was the rope affixed to its ceiling support? Where did that aluminum can come from that the police were shooting at? It was the only item ever to mar the pristine beauty of the lake, and at just the appropriate time. And the old monk was able to flick a stone and hit it on the first try? And he just happened to have a small pebble in his hand right then? Painting all those carved characters with a cat's tail would require a mighty patient cat. And where did all those colored paints come from? The hole that the apprentice chipped into the ice was nowhere big enough for the woman to fall through. And so on.
Now that I have run through some of the petty concerns of a literalist, I can move on to what really bothered me about this story. The overall message appears to be that isolating yourself from society is the path to some higher state. Even if that were true, it seems like a selfish goal. Much more challenging and useful is to attain balance in the midst of the chaos that is living in the world. The old monk utters the words, "Lust awakes the desire to possess. And that awakens the intent to murder," as if to express some deep insight. However, it is the rare person who has not experienced lust, but only a tiny percentage of those ever have an intent to kill. These words from the wise man seem patently false. But, in the context of this film the words have a more potentially worrisome significance. Perhaps the import of the words carried such weight for the apprentice that the intimation planted in the mind effected the deed. The lessons meted out by the master seemed exceedingly harsh. If tying a stone to a snake were to kill the snake and the snake were to die, then the kid would have to carry that burden with him for life? What a traumatic thing to say to an innocent kid. If as a kid I had had a super moralist following my every move, as this kid did, I would have gone nuts. I found the sadomasochistic beating to be disturbing and repellent. And what is the deal with the worshiping of icons? I though the sacred was in the mind and not in physical objects? If everybody were to absorb the teachings of the master, then our race would soon die out since sex seems to be avoided at all cost. I have found that an intense day of tedious activity indeed produces exhaustion, as did the apprentice, but it never seemed to be a path to the catharsis and peace that the apprentice experienced after his ordeal. And the master could beckon an empty boat to him or impede the rowing of two vigorous men by force of mind? Give me a break.
There is too much Eastern philosophy and mysticism here for this Western viewer.