Unmistaken Child
Directed by Nati Baratz. Metro Cinema (Zeidler Hall, The Citadel). Fri-Tues, Dec 11-15.
**1/2

For more than 20 years, Tenzin Zopa has been the most beloved student — or “heart disciple,” as he calls it — of an esteemed Tibetan master named Lama Konchog. When the master passes away at age 84, Zopa is given the unenviable task of finding his unmistaken reincarnation (and charged by no less an office than that of the Dalai Lama himself). Then the Buddhist monk does something unexpected: he turns to the camera and explains, in English, how he feels.

In more ways than one, Nati Baratz’s documentary Unmistaken Child takes a surprisingly hands-on approach to its subject, and manages to turn up some fascinating material. Zopa’s four-year search, in which he ventures to many a tiny village tucked away in the Indian, or Nepalese, or Tibetan countryside, is part of a centuries-old dictum, and yet flashes of 21st-century life keep popping up — not the least of which is Baratz’s digital camera, which slithers intrusively through several of Zopa’s prayer rituals. The monk’s car and puffy North Face jacket are similarly jarring, though at least these are Zopa’s own forays into modernity.

In fact, the film often feels like it could be a massive hit, were it simply translated to a different medium. Imagine how a Booker Prize jury, for example, would salivate upon hearing this story: a devout monk — handsome and charming, but also wracked with worries of inadequacy — must journey to prove his faith by finding the reincarnation of his deceased master (and, don’t forget, his father figure). Before setting out, the monk has a dream where he glimpses a mysterious child’s face, then wakes up. He consults abbots, and gets in-depth astrological checks performed. On paper, it’s perfect. Add some flowery descriptions of Buddhist rituals and paraphernalia, fluff it up to 550 pages, and boom, you’re done.

As a film, however — and more pressingly, as a real event — Unmistaken Child grates heavily against the Western viewer’s conscience. Baratz is smart in getting Zopa to serve as a talking head, the monk explaining his various emotional states with warmth and sincerity, but the director sails right by the larger question of the legitimacy of what’s being filmed.

Let’s state it in plain terms: Zopa is on a mission to take a young child from his natural parents unwillingly. Sure, the monks believe that they are working in the name of the divine, but the parents of the boy Zopa finds don’t seem all that devout. And certainly the child himself is in no way capable of grasping his situation. All of this is filmed with care, and scored with a quietly regal soundtrack, but non-believers everywhere are forgiven for feeling queasy at watching a perfectly content family torn apart.

And it’s not like the boy will have much of a chance to question the world he’s thrown into. Sure, he’ll grow up receiving standing ovations and bows of reverence every time he walks into a room, but as he himself screams, when Zopa closes the gate on his departing parents at the film’s climax, “Don’t let them go. Now I don’t have any friends.”
Is this a happy ending?