Unmistaken Child is one of the strangest romance films I’ve
ever seen. It tells, in documentary form, the story of Tenzin Zopa, a
disciple of Geshe Lama Konchog. Geshe was a leading figure in Tibetan
Buddhism, and when he passed away at the age of 84, Tenzin, described
as his “heart disciple,” was overwhelmed with grief.

Tenzin was clearly and completely in love with Geshe (though, by
Buddhist practice, their relationship would have been nonsexual), and
it’s odd and moving to hear him recount their relationship.

He starts by noting, somewhat eerily, that he’s never had to make
decisions for himself: He would simply do whatever Geshe told him to,
from the time he woke up to the moment he went to sleep. Now, without
his master, he’s presented with the task of finding the reincarnated
soul of the great lama.

He then travels across Nepal, recounting the days when he was in the
presence of his beloved teacher. He talks of sitting in his master’s
lap and reciting prayers, of adorning Geshe with flowers while he
prayed, and of his parents’ attempts to sway him away from his devotion
by promising him a wife. “I’m totally not interested in that,” he told
them, and, at the age of 7, he rejected the world of heterosexual
unions and material acquisitions and went to live a life of poverty in
the all-male world of the Buddhist monasteries.

Which is, by American standards, strange, and therefore interesting.
The film’s subject is what makes it work; Tenzin is really compelling.
He’s so human, and his love for Geshe and his grief come across as far
more real than anything in a fictional romance or even the strangely
staged emotions one sees on reality TV. When Tenzin cries at the sight
of his master’s old sanctuary, the effect is devastating.

Unfortunately, I can’t say that this is a great film. While Tenzin
Zopa is the perfect subject for a documentary, first-time filmmaker
Nati Baratz makes some rookie mistakes. The worst is the intrusion of
manipulative cello and violin music. Baratz even plays this over
Tibetan chanting, which seems oddly counterproductive. The emotions in
this film should, and can, speak for themselves, and if music was
required, it would have been more fitting to go with something local to
the subject matter. The mountains of Nepal provide an easy target for
Baratz’s camera, so the film at least looks great, and the task of
following Tenzin Zopa on what turns out to be a five-year journey is
impressive, but the film is mostly a chronological portrayal of the
quest, with little critical distance.

Things become most interesting when Tenzin “finds” the reincarnated
Geshe in the form of a young boy. (His precise age isn’t given, but he
looks to be no older than 3.) Anyone with a background in experimental
design will see the flaws in the tests used to “prove” that the boy is
Geshe, but what makes this compelling is the strange situation the
child is put in. He’s taken from his parents and told he’s a great
master; he meets the Dalai Lama; hundreds of people line up to be
blessed by him; he gets some shiny toys.

It’s bizarre to see someone so young dressed in celebratory robes
and treated as an object of adoration. Even odder is seeing him act
like the small child he is. I’ve never before seen a religious leader
crying out for his mommy and daddy, or demanding to be taken to his
grandmother’s house, or yelling, “Don’t cut my hair! Don’t cut my
hair!” In short, he is easily the cutest enlightened master in the
world.

At least at this point, the film acquires, with little effort on the
part of the director, some critical stance toward its subject. When
Tenzin Zopa makes his final request to the boy’s parents for possession
of their son, the affective quality overcomes the accepting stance
toward the Buddhist practice. At first, the mother and father are
laughing, but then the young lama’s mother looks as though she’s been
shot through the heart at the thought of giving up her child.

Unlike Tenzin Zopa, the young reincarnate doesn’t get to make a
choice to become a monk. Taken up by forces he clearly cannot
understand, he oscillates between laughing and enjoying his new status
and the terror of being taken from everything he’s known. Here, at
least, questions are raised about the practices, and, smartly, no
simple answers are given.

That’s because Baratz does his best to let his subject speak through
the film without imposing any narration or editorial content. While the
film could have been better-constructed, and would have benefited from
some editing, it’s still an interesting document of a form of life so
distinct from the ideologically capitalist and unquestioningly
heterosexual norm we usually see in American cinema.

This article appears in Jul 23-29, 2009.