I saw Himalaya last night at a theatre specializing in arts-fartsy films and Himalaya surely qualifies. The movie begins as the body of the next-to-be chieftain is brought in on yak's back, followed by the beautiful widown grieving, the clever young son now lost and looking for a father figure, and the patriarch well past retirement of the chieftancy acccusing his son's best friend of the death. Hm, hm, hm. Big problem. The villagers need go down the mountain to trade their salt carried on yaks' backs for the food they'll need to get through the winter, but who's to lead the caravan? The rising new star (dead man's best friend) or the old man and his proven ways? So a reluctant protagonist is set against the old antagonist and two caravans make their way down the mountain on yaks' backs. I'll let y'all figure out the story.
Yes, the villagers are "real" in their grit and grime and wild beauty and because the film is shot on location we're obliged to compliment the scenery with cliched adjectives("magnificent", "fabulous", even "scenic"
you know any others?) but... The film was a goddamned bore that views from yaks' backs can't relieve. Two hours of French cinematography if you like that kind of thing.
Yes, the dialogue is Tibetan but relieved by subtitles.
