In 2008, Chinese control of Tibet was challenged by a series of uprisings and protests, bringing about an often-ignored discussion on what is perceived by many to be an imperialist stranglehold by the Chinese. The call for independence echoed across Asia, especially in India where thousands of Tibetan exiles — the Dalai Lama among them — have lived for many years. In light of the events, the documentary team of Indian Ritu Sarin and Tibetan Tenzing Sonam produced Sun Behind The Clouds, an achingly heartbroken film about Tibet’s renewed push for independence and the possibility of its hopelessness.
The film centers on several simultaneous happenings: The Dalai Lama’s worldwide tour in support of Tibet’s struggle, a march across India to Tibet by exiles and the Tibet/Chinese response to the uprisings, in which 200 Tibetans were reported to be killed by Chinese police. Yet the real focus is found in the apparent imbalance between the nationalist cry for independence and the “Middle Way” stance of the Dalai Lama, Tibet’s political and religious leader.
His proposed “Middle Way” would have Tibet autonomously exist underneath the Chinese flag, a compromise that falls on deaf ears to the majority of younger Tibetans. Worse, the Chinese have offered no support of the proposal, only occasionally holding talks with the Lama’s envoy, none of which have been even mildly successful. Whether intentionally or not, the film mimics this disparity by never truly landing on one side or the other. While the Tibetan people may scream for independence, they face a moral quandary by opposing their leader’s wishes. The passionate devotion of Tibet to the Dalai Lama is seen again and again onscreen, yet the internal struggle is palpable both in raw footage and in the filmmaking style — and the film suffers as a result by being unable to choose sides.
Politics aside, however, Tibet’s beauty is shot with a seasoned eye — the capital city of Lhasa, the endless green mountains dotted with fog and the quiet dignity of ceremonial Buddhism are all visually stunning, providing an oddly disjunctive peace to an otherwise tumultuous documentary. The peoples’ frustration permeates every scene, whether the interviewee is an activist marcher or an American sympathizer.
For all its publicity, Tibet has found little tangible, concrete support from Western powers. Each of the Dalai Lama’s visits to New York, Germany, Paris and London all follow the same script: An enthusiastic welcome, raucous applause and a cordial goodbye — with little or no political steps taken. What makes the occupation so tragic now is what one supporter called China’s “imperialist cultural invasion.” With a new railroad leading from overpopulated China to the gorgeous, spacious fields of Tibet, millions of Chinese migrants have flocked west to take advantage of the empty space and opportunity. Soon, Tibetans will be a minority in their own state — a plight likened to the Native Americans or Aboriginal Australians. The struggle is fast approaching a point of no return, when the Tibetan voice will simply be too small to call for separation.
The film is understandably biased — perhaps there’s another side to the story, and I’m sure China has its own reasons for holding on to Tibet so fiercely. But at least from the perspective of Sun Behind The Clouds, we are passively witnessing the slow decline of a people who may soon fade into obscurity if action is not taken now. The only question remaining is how to do so.