Happiness - A Film Review from the 2014 Sundance Film Festival

Bhutanese with English subtitles, 2013, 80 minutes, color, France/Finland, World Documentary

About the Film

In 1999, King Jigme Wangchuck approved the use of television and Internet throughout the largely undeveloped nation of Bhutan, assuring the masses that rapid development was synonymous with the “gross national happiness” of his country, a term he himself coined. Director Thomas Balmès’s film Happiness begins at the end of this process as Laya, the last remaining village tucked away within the Himalayan kingdom, becomes enmeshed in roads, electricity, and cable television. Through the eyes of an eight-year-old monk impatient with prayer and eager to acquire a TV set, we witness the seeds of this seismic shift sprouting during a three-day journey from the outskirts of Laya to the thriving capital of Thimphu. It is here the young boy discovers cars, toilets, colorful club lights, and countless other elements of modern life for the first time.

"Balmès illuminates the seduction of technology—as well as its rapid encroachment—on an ancient way of life with an observant eye, reminding us how complicated and bittersweet the effects of progress can be." - H.V. 

About the Director

Thomas Balmès is an independent documentary director and producer. He brings us to people, places, and sharply contrasting situations that reveal our society from different and completely new angles—the Bosnian war from the viewpoint of Masai warriors, the mad-cow crisis seen from the Indian perspective, a Papuan tribe being converted to Christianity, glimpses of childhood from all around the planet. His films ask questions about what connects us all as human beings.

Source

Bryan's Review of Happiness

The aesthetics of Balmés's film and his ability to capture emotion were masterful.  It was difficult for me to believe that the film was a World Documentary, and not Drama.  Like most of his films, Balmés paid special attention to the subjects' eyes.  Since none of his subjects had ever seen a camera before, Balmés was able to capture their true, human emotions; they had no conception of what the consequences were of having a camera in their faces.  The subjects exhibited no nervousness, or self-consciousness; just guileless, raw reactions as they interacted naturally one with another.  After viewing the film, I asked Balmés if he used a black sheet, or protective barrier of some kind, when shooting.  He said that is wasn't necessary.  After only a day of being around them, the subjects had completely forgotten that he was there.

Happiness is about as close as the medium of film can get to documenting unaffected human emotion.  Of course, there are always a few necessary distractions. Human presence is a distractions. Without being close, however, the director would have only be able to capture broad gestures of emotion.  (Unless cameras and mics were inconspicuously set up are the entire village, like in the Truman Show.)  The director gets to cut and paste shots together to tell his own version of reality.  Also, Balmés must have had cued the subjects in some scenes (like when Peyangki's mother converses with Peyangki about not having money to send him to school).  This is an intervention inevitable in any foreign film.  The director must have a translator on-site to tell him, in between takes, if the shot was good or not. All in all, incredibly well done.  I would have like to have asked Balmés what his philosophy is on building rapport with his subjects and if that biases what we see on film.  (e.g. Does he prefer the elusive Dian Fossy approach, or is it better to become "one of them," Tarzan style?)

Criticism (Spoilers)

Happiness is a breath-taking art film.  Perhaps it was too beautiful.  I couldn't help but feel like Balmés sacrificed a potentially great message for the sake of his art.  (Unless, the message was intended to be delivered soft-handedly.)  The potentially powerful message hits the audience will full force from the opening scene when the Bhutanese King declares that he is lifting the digital flood gates of the world and allowing electricity and all that accompanies it into Bhutan.  He teaches his people that all tools may be be used both for good and evil, and that they must exert great effort to not allow it to negatively affect their nation's gross domestic happiness. In the American cinematic tradition, the viewer recognizes is speech as a great foreshadowing of how technology is going to decimate Bhutan's GNH. (However, this is a French film.) Instead, we get an hour and a half of rising action.  We witness the digital-technology-free village of Laya excitedly anticipate the arrival of electricity, as through the eyes of Peyangki. (This is where I felt the storytelling could have been stronger.) In spending so much time building up to the climax, we learn from Balmés that people are willing to sacrifice anything to be plugged in—These Layan villagers traded in their cattle (livelihoods), they gave up their own time (pursuits of individual happiness), and they even gave up potential time spent with their children (family relationships) for time in front of the tube.  In the concluding (and what I imagine must have been Balmés favorite) scene, we finally reach the film's climax.  The viewer gets the special privilege of looking on into the faces of mesmerized villagers glued a WWF program on their respective televisions for the first time.  It's as if Balmés is saying, "here's what happened the minute these Layan villagers got electricity.  Now you, viewers, assign judgement to it."  The message was left unresolved.  I think the audience hoped for a definite conclusion that drove home the king's message a little more deliberately.  But that is not what artists do, I suppose.

The Message

Humans feel a natural desire to consume media.  There's no escaping it on earth any longer, even for Buddhist monks.  Like any technology or tool, media can be great, when used appropriately, and in moderation.  Be selective about the media you chose and how must time you give to it. The government is not going to regulate your media consumption—that responsibility falls to each one of us.