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I paddled as hard as I could; helplessly, ceaselessly.  It wasn't so easy with that arrow stuck in my shoulder, but it's not every day that fate hands you a getaway canoe.  

Review: "Little Buddha" (1993) dir. Bernardo Bertolucci

I've never before attempted to write a movie review, but for some reason, I can't stop thinking about "Little Buddha".  

I watched it last week with a group of guys, and I was the only one who stayed awake for the whole thing.  Afterwards, the friend who rented the movie commented "I just remember this movie being more grand."  Certainly, the idea lends itself the ability to be grand or epic: the story of how Buddha (formerly known as Siddhartha) became BUDDHA.  But like any story originating out of religious folklore, this one also has its share of plot holes, unexplained motives and "Why didn't he just do this..?" moments.

Perhaps this is why Bertolucci (who conceived the story), decided to add another half to the movie in the form of a tale of a group of modern-day Buddhist monks who travel to Seattle in search of his dead Buddhist teacher, Lama Dorje, who they believe may have been reincarnated in the form of Jesse (Alex Weisendanger), the American nine-year-old son of Lisa (Bridget Fonda) and Dean (Chris Isaak). (Lama Norbu, the George Costanza-like leader of this outfit, says more than once about the late Lama Dorje: "He had a great sense of humor.")

This part of the story is also full of holes and a stunning lack of conflict.  Lisa seems none too shocked or concerned when she is first approached by the Buddhists.  When the monks invite the family to return with them to Bhutan, she treats it as a wonderful opportunity.  She lets them into her home as if these people were scouting for future Harvard applicants.  I mean, if you found out your son was the reincarnation of a great Buddhist teacher, you'd make him list that on his college applications, too.  

Dean on the other hand (sort of), starts out only slightly skeptical and weirded out.  It's not until a character we never meet, named Evan, dies.  Dean, not the audience, is deeply affected by the (sudden?) death of (his good friend?) Evan, and upon returning from Evan's funeral, he has a change of heart and decides that it would be great for Jesse to go to Bhutan after all.  This leads to what was supposed to be an emotional scene between Dean and Lisa.  All of a sudden, Lisa's slightly reconsidered.  She can't go to Bhutan, because she's still taking some classes.  So Dean and Jesse are going to have fun in Bhutan without me?  Oh, no!  This may sound like I'm talking about plot, but here's the reason I bring it up: Throughout the rest of the movie, there appeared to be no reason why Lisa couldn't have went to Bhutan.  She didn't have to stay in Seattle to turn a special key at the right moment, or light a ceremonial Buddhist candle, or make sure the plants got watered (they have a very subservient housekeeper who can do that).  Maybe Bridget Fonda didn't want to make the trip to film in Bhutan.  Maybe she was busy.  Those are the only reasons I can think of.

The last thing that upset me a lot was that when Jesse and Dean finally get to Bhutan, it is revealed, discreetly, that there are two other children who may or may not be the reincarnation of Lama Dorje.  So then, it becomes a three-way battle for who's going to get the perks of being the reincarnated Lama between Jesse, and two locals, Raju and Gita.  We're led to believe that only one child can be Lama Dorje, but then after a big ceremony, we find out that everybody wins!  Yay!  All three are different parts of Lama Dorje!  I believe it was Dean who asked Lama Norbu, "Has this ever happened before?"  To which Lama Norbu replied, "Well, it's happened before, but it is rare."  If only Lama Norbu had let everyone know about that sooner, then I wouldn't have felt cheated by the cop out ending.

Other things I didn't like:

-All scenes shot in Seattle were shot with a blue-tinted gel.  After living here for a couple of months, I can tell you, the gel is unnecessary.

-Isn't Keanu Reeves a bit too skinny to play Buddha?  Doesn't he also suck too much?

-Jesse asks too many questions.  I know he's just a dumb kid, but almost everything he says is a question.  I'm pretty sure Dean and Lisa know as little about Buddhism as Jesse does.  Where's their desire to learn?

-Just a thought: why couldn't Jesse be more of an up-to-no-good problem child?  Wouldn't that have made the movie a little more interesting?  Eh?  When we meet Gita, she turns out to be a petulant well-off girl, and she still gets to be 1/3 the Lama.  Where are Jesse's character flaws?  Make him mischievous, make him diabetic, make him something!  Something that isn't boring.

-Who the hell is Evan?  Why should I care about him?  Why should Dean care about him?  Their relationship is never established.

-Gosh, Lisa and Dean's housekeeper is so subservient...

-I would go into more detail about the Siddhartha-to-Buddha part of the movie which was grandiose and cinematic and often interesting enough to watch, but there aren't many reasons why both of these stories are in the same movie.

-Bertolucci, who directed "Last Tango in Paris", missed out on some great opportunities in "Little Buddha" to incorporate butter into a scene or two.  Just saying.

Body & Mind

  "I can feel some very strong colors coming from you.  I see a lot of greens, and yellows, and blues.  There's a bit of orange, which makes me worry that you might have cancer, or maybe someone in your family has cancer?  But you are strong, and whatever is releasing this 'orange-ness' won't envelope your spirit.

  "This is an old, traditional technique, spiritually...it comes from Japan.  The Japanese word translated, literally, means 'spiritual atmosphere'.  So that's what we're dealing with here.  The body wants to heal itself.  When you cut your finger on a piece of paper, what do you do?  Well, you wash your hands, and seal the wound, and in a day or two -- poof!  Your blood began to clot, and your body is taking care of itself.  And that happens all the time, the body is correcting things for you.  You just don't always get the chance to see it because it's happening inside your body.  Or inside your soul.

  "I'm no master at this yet, but I have been studying hard.  I feel confident enough to know what to do with my hands.  You're not the first person I've done this with.  I have gone through a period of fasting and seclusion and meditation, and since then, my mind has been more attuned to the auras of other people, and my eyes have really opened up to the possibilities of what I can do -- or, I should rather say, my mind has opened up.  There's really nothing I value more than my ability to achieve this sort of enlightenment.  It's very...freeing."

  Marvin continued to talk as he gently, but firmly, sifted through Bernadette's long brown hair with his grubby fingers; the same grubby fingers that wouldn't wash his own dirty dreadlocks.  Poor Bernadette was too open-minded to reject Marvin's sexual-advances-disguised-as-spiritual-healing-methods.  I wanted to interrupt.  I thought of requesting Marvin to put his gross fingers through my hair, just to save her.  But I didn't.

  "I'll bet you find that some things are very restrictive, or you're being held back by outside forces.  But if you clear your mind of Earthly worries, while still remaining humble to your environment, the whole...you can really...you'll find yourself unable to be held back.  If you'd like to meet up some time and talk about it in more detail...I know a great deal now, but there's so much more to learn, and I can teach you what I've learned so far."

   The image of Marvin attempting to seduce Bernadette in this manner had left me disgusted.  My only consolation was that I knew Bernadette was too smart to 'meet up' with him at a later time.  She would not be the only one.  

  Eventually Marvin would seduce a stupid girl using this method.  They would fall in love, and deserve each other.

An Excerpt From "Temp-to-Hire".

   The people who'd been working in the office for a few years began getting suspicious of me.  They had every right to, but they didn't know they had the right to, and that's what's been cheesing me off recently.

   I started as a temp, but then it got out of hand.  My boss, Mr. Horn, thought I was "too qualified", and gave me a promotion after two weeks.  I didn't have the heart to tell him I had no idea what I was doing; I didn't know anything about stocks, bonds, interest rates, or audit trails.  He called me into his office on my third Monday on the job.

  "I'll bet you're wondering why I called you into my office," he said.

  I figured I must have done something wrong.  The temp agency made a mistake in sending me here, I thought.  Mr. Horn continued.

  "I'll bet you're wondering why a busy man like myself has taken time away from the first minutes of my work week to talk to someone like yourself." 

  "Sir, I'm sorry if..." I started, but he interrupted.

  "There's no need to call me 'Sir' anymore, Kevin.    I'm giving you a promotion.  From now on, you call me 'Mr. Horn'."

  He explained to me that since I'd begun working with his firm, profits had tripled, and I was the only X-factor he could discern in the equation as to why that happened.  I would earn far more than my current salary, plus commission.  Hiring me full-time, he said, would also scare the weak links in the office into buckling down and doing a better job themselves, that my upgrade would send a message that new blood is out there waiting to dominate the field.  "Plus," he said "it wouldn't hurt to have someone around the office who wasn't totally hideous."  I smiled and nodded to thank him for the compliment, but I didn't know specifically  what he was talking about.

  I thought that if I stuck with it at least a few more weeks, I would be financially secure for a long time.  But now, it's officially been fourteen months.  I still don't know what I'm doing, but my firm continues to be successful.  Any time I thought about learning about what my job entails, I stopped myself, reasoning that awareness of any kind would become a hinderance to any of my achievements.  I know now that the firm's success had nothing to do with me, that I had been in the right place at the right time, and if any other person landed that temp job, they would be in my position instead of me.  But just because I'm a phony, that doesn't mean Randall and Dave have the right to give me dirty looks around the office.

My Thoughts From Last Night Would Make For A Great Few Paragraphs Of A Novel, I Think

Zach turned the last page. He had finished reading the book he had been working on for a month. He looked longingly at the number on that final page: 617. "Gee, that's a lot," he thought to himself. "I wonder if I could ever muster enough writing to reach that many pages -- particularly in a font as medium-small as the one in this book." Skimming through the book again, it became apparent to him that to make a book last long, a lot of things need to happen to a lot of people, and those things and people need to be described in great detail. He thought...

_

The next morning, there was a knock at the door. Zach still lay in bed an hour after his roommate, Gillian, left for work. He opened his eyes to a bright cloudy morning, typical of a Seattle autumn. His blanket and comforter with the sea green duvet, askew from another night of tossing and kicking, were almost too heavy for him to lift in his state of sleepiness. Upon more knocking, he finally got up, left his room, admired Wendy the Cat who was once again looking cute, and answered the front door.

_

It was none other than Archie Mandrake, the local sports newscaster in his usual pirate outfit, complete with a live parrot perched upon his shoulder. His long nose and wide ears seemed to grow bigger when he gestured to the donation can he held in his hand, the one which he motioned towards with his hook. His hook made Zach wish he had put on a pair of pants.

_

"Good morning, young chap," Mr. Mandrake said delightfully. "I'm making my rounds, collecting for the Voluntary Orphange of Washington State -- children with parents too awful to bear who may or may not have actually died. Would you feel comfortable making a donation today to help these unfortunate children?"

_

Before Zach could answer him, he lost his voice which crept out of his mouth, across his shoulder, down his right leg and onto the floor, where it melted and left a mustard-yellow stain on the carpet. He motioned to Mr. Mandrake that he could not speak, and Mr. Mandrake gave him an empathetic nod.

_

"Poor boy," he said with a noticably more melancholy tone. "I never should have asked anything of you."

_

He turned around and moped down the stairs. Zach closed the door behind him, and went into the kitchen to get some paper towels.

Dear Amanda

Dear Amanda,

  I thought you should know that after all these years, I've decided to start taking clarinet lessons.  

  More importantly, I don't know which Amanda I'm writing to.  I've narrowed it down to three Amandas: Skehan, Danskin, and Wells.  Those are pretty much the only Amandas I've associated with in the past few years -- a comment I'm sure will make all other Amandas I've ever known feel slighted.  Well, too bad.  They had their chance.  Do I always have to be the one who calls to make plans?  If there are any Amandas out there who'd like to be part of my inner circle,  then you should call me.  There.  The ball's in your court.

  Well, whichever Amanda you are, I'm sure you'll all agree that learning the clarinet will be a positive experience for me, and I know you'll support my venture into higher learning.

  Please write back to me with a hint, like, tell me what color hair you have.

Your Friend or Ex-boyfriend,

Zachary

About The Author

ZACHARY ANDREW BERNSTEIN was born in Lima, Peru and raised in Santiago, Chile by Jewish-American immigrants.  His springboard into the literary world (which subsequently led him to move to the United States) was writing instruction manuals, most famously How To Use Your New SONY RMR-TP1 Remote Control (D Series) (1997), which garnered fame for being "the 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' of instruction manuals".**  Through this work he was later commissioned to write for several newspapers, among them, the New York Times, Washington Post, Los Angeles Times, Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, Amarillo Globe-News, Anchorage Press and the Anoka County Union.  His prolific career would continue into the world of fiction with his debut novel, The Stunning Debut (1998), followed secondly by the equally successful The Stunning Sophomore Attempt (1999) -- seen by some critics as a sequel to his first novel.  By now drowning in his own fame, success and fortune, he completed the epic collection of short stories, Ten Page Wonders (2000), and the poignant comedy The Indignant Flight Attendant (2000), together earning him seventeen Pulitzer prizes in one year.  Bernstein shocked the literary world with his seamless transition into children's books, including Witches in Stitches, Clara's Carrot, Grandpa's Big Find, Randall Ties His Shoes and Fish Don't Drink Coffee, all written and later compiled together in 2001.  He broadened his horizons even further writing incendiary works for the stage.  Premiering at the Steppenwolf Theatre Company in Chicago was the politically-charged Congressman Brute in 2002, followed by the haunting farce Two Ghosts? which made it's debut at the Roundabout Theatre Company in New York City in 2003.  Two Ghosts? would earn Bernstein countless awards in the achievement of writing, including a Tony award and a Drama Desk award, as well as make history as the first and only play ever to win an Oscar.  Since his success in theater, he has returned mainly to fiction with what critics called his "Gym Coach Trilogy": The Muscle Men (2004), Weight Class (2005) and The Hundred Year Dash (2006), all of which garnered Bernstein's typical praise among critics and fans alike.  He returned once more to theater with the box-office smash hit about xenophobia and heartbreak in South America, Los Otros (2007).  2008 brought in two works of non-fiction: Frequent Flyers, a survey of migratory birds, and his long-awaited book on writing, The Bold and the Italic. 

Bernstein lives with his wife Stella and their twenty-six children in Seattle, Washington and Paris, France.

**Bernstein, Z. A. (5/3/97) "Peruvian Manual Writer Brings Life To Dying Art Form", Anchorage Press

Opening Lines to Earth-Shattering Works of Unwritten Fiction

Ethan left his goat to pursue his dream.

Though the rabbi had been pressed, he came home that evening without any new linens.

"Break out the cigars," said the captain.  "We've got ourselves a storm to confront!"

The flower wilted after prolonged periods of shouting and naysaying.

How do you break the news to a newly-wed couple about what was taken from their home while they were on their honeymoon?

Celia's cancer was no match for her AIDS.

My mother made many magenta mittens, making Millie Morton's mopishly marauding meerkat moan momentously.  Maybe.

Once the life of the party, Alice's exuberance faded after the surgery.

"Be you in a candied house ere mine eyes doth deceive me," Ralph bellowed.

The rocks were high, but the tea was steaming and no one could piece together the events of the past few days.

I was embarrassed to learn that Eleanor's cake was too small to fit ninety-seven candles.

The twins were kicking each other again.

Though it's been hard modeling my life after that of a famous Greek aristocrat, I have found solace in the light of a newly opened bottle of champagne.

In retrospect, perhaps we should have foreseen that Dad's first clarinet lesson would also be his last.