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In this review, cinetasticc aka Yash tells us how Shambhala is a good experience film despite of its many flaws!
I love stories that take characters on spiritual journeys or evoke a sense of the supernatural through camera work, symbols, or metaphors, creating a mystery around the world they inhabit. Some of these elements happen by accident, while others are meticulously crafted. Federico Fellini, for instance, both succeeded and failed many times in every film he made after Nights of Cabiria, but he had the drive to keep evolving that mystical realm. Shambhala is a 150-minute-long attempt to achieve that kind of spiritual resonance, but it feels like a misstep by Min Bahadur Bham—a fascinating one, though, that I hope he continues to explore in future films.
The film has had festival success, becoming the first Nepalese film in the Berlinale main competition and the first South Asian film in that category in three decades. It’s also Nepal’s official entry for the Oscars this year. The film follows Pema, a woman married in a polyandrous village, trying to make the best of her situation. Her husband, Tashi, leaves for a trade trip when she becomes pregnant. Rumours about her pregnancy reach Tashi, and out of shame and fear of societal judgment, he decides to vanish from the trade route, never returning home. Determined to tell him the truth, Pema sets out to find him. But at a certain point, the "truth" becomes irrelevant, and the film shifts its focus to themes of self-identity and breaking away from societal norms.
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The title card doesn’t appear until 40 minutes in, right after Pema embarks on her journey. The word "Shambhala" refers to a place of inner harmony—a kind of spiritual kingdom. As Pema begins her search, she symbolically forces herself toward that kingdom. It’s her determination that drives the film, propelling her through a series of sufferings tied to her attachments—her love, societal expectations, ingrained beliefs, and her need to prove herself. These attachments gradually fall away, leading her to Shambhala through a state of nothingness.
Thinley Lhamo, who plays Pema, moves through the world of the film with a quiet intensity, her ability to conceal the character’s emotions making for a mesmerizing presence. Tenzing Dalha, who plays Tashi, only appears in a few scenes but serves as the emotional anchor of the story. My favourite, though, is Sonam Topden, Tashi’s monk brother, a character as fragile as glass when it comes to living a normal life. Ironically, he seems attached to the very idea of detachment.
What kept me engaged throughout the film was its breathtaking cinematography. The Himalayan landscape is captured with a poetic lens, flowing through the changing seasons of the mountains. The snow-covered frames are incredibly stunning, with Aziz Zambakiev’s genuinely masterful cinematography. The film, however, seems to stray from its initial goals, constantly introducing new ones. Shambhala is a great film, but not in the way it may have intended. It reaches for something profound, and while it doesn’t always succeed, it offers a thought-provoking and visually arresting experience.
Shambhala had its Indian premiere at MAMI Mumbai Film Festival this year!
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