‘Snow Leopard’: Venice Review

Dir/scr. Pema Tseden. China. 2023. 109mins

“The snow leopard is a first-class protected animal.” This statement is frequently delivered during Snow Leopard, but it has a different undercurrent depending on who is speaking. The pioneering Tibetan auteur Pema Tseden, who died from heart failure on May 8 at the age of 53, devoted his career to illustrating the complexities of modern life in his native land, and his final completed feature is no exception.

A testament to Tseden’s gift for telling stories that are deeply rooted in Tibetan culture yet retain a universal cinematic vision

To some of its characters, the titular animal holds near-mythic significance in that it represents the order of things; to others, its status is of the legal variety so they are less concerned about one being harmed than by being held responsible. Snow Leopard centres on a heated dispute: a herder wants to kill the leopard that has turned his sheep pen into a bloodbath, much to the chagrin of family members. It’s a scenario that enables Tseden to further chronicle the clash between traditional values and contemporary developments in a modernising Tibet. 

Essentially the founder of Tibetan cinema, Tseden has been a festival fixture since his allegorical portraits of plateau existence under the political spectre of Beijing established him as a world class filmmaker. Snow Leopard is premiering out of competition at Venice, after which it will receive its North American premiere in the Official Selection at the Toronto International Film Festival. Keen interest from similarly prestigious events should ensure that it travels widely in the months ahead.

Beyond the festival circuit, Snow Leopard could serve as belated introduction to a director who was starting to make in-roads with audiences. Tseden’s films were apparently struggling to gain traction in China: Jinpa grossed just $1.46 million from its domestic theatrical release in 2018, while Balloon (2019) fell short of the $1 million mark. Netizens called for more showtimes of the latter, however, demonstrating yet again that China’s exhibitors tend to underestimate the demand for art-house titles. As such, Snow Leopard could find a receptive audience at home if handled carefully and allocated sufficient screening slots. Internationally, the film should attract interest from specialty distributors who will seek to parlay critical plaudits from limited theatrical runs into long-term ancillary value.

Tseden’s works have been characterised as ‘road movies’, and Snow Leopard starts in transit: a regional television crew is driving through a Tibetan-speaking region of Qinghai province in northwest China to report on a herder who has captured the snow leopard which has killed nine of his sheep. Lead reporter Dradul (Genden Phuntsok) has been contacted by the herder’s brother, Nyima (Tseten Tashi), a former classmate who is now a monk.

Upon arrival, the crew find a disagreement brewing. Enraged herder Jinpa (Jinpa), wants to put the snow leopard down to achieve retribution; his father (Losang Choepel) would prefer for the animal to be set free since it represents the spirit of the mountains. Jinpa comes around to the idea of compensation for the loss to his herd (estimated at $100 per sheep), but that necessitates the involvement of the authorities. Since they cannot come immediately, the crew settles in and its members briefly immerse themselves in high-altitude rural life.

Snow Leopard sees Tseden gravitating back to a realist sensibility after a sojourn into abstract noir with Tharlo (2015) and Jinpa in which the director aimed to demystify Tibet, but frequently stressed its very unknowability through static wide shots of majestic landscapes. Snow Leopard features some incredible vistas, but largely consists of up-close, handheld scenes in which the film’s aesthetic takes its cue from the narrative device of the television crew.

Although the film mostly plays out in long takes, it is altogether less distanced and even spontaneous due to cinematographer Matthias Delvaux capturing events in the manner of a news camera operator. This constitutes a rare outsider perspective within Tseden’s oeuvre, with more exposition than usual. Yet it is an approach that never impinges on his naturalistic yet shrewdly devised storytelling, or the calmness with which he explores the issues faced by ethnic minorities.

As ever, casting is spot-on with the ensemble emanating the necessary authenticity. Jinpa summons a volcanic indignance which makes his herder a million miles away from his eponymous, laid-back truck driver in Jinpa, while Tashi provides a gentle contrast as the brother who has embraced technology and wishes to share Tibet’s unique species with the world through photography. This is Tseden’s most talkative film and there is an underlying wryness to much of the apparently matter-of-fact dialogue. Interactions between the family and officials (the village committee, the police) show the systematic manner in which community problems are resolved, while the television crew enthusiastically ingratiate themselves but cannot quite grasp the intricacies of the culture they are recording.

We are still treated to a spellbinding dose of surrealism, though. Tseden’s screenplay incorporates Jamyang Tsering’s short story Snow Leopard Or The Last Poem for a transfixing, almost painterly black-and-white centrepiece that details Nyima’s prior encounter with the captive animal. Equal parts flashback, dream sequence and film-within-a-film, it segues from spiritual flux to mortal panic to a poignant exchange between man and predator.

Dukar Tserang’s percussion-oriented score enhances the hypnotic atmosphere, while the smooth integration of special effects elements is all the more impressive considering the presumably modest budget. As with the film as a whole, it’s a testament to Tseden’s gift for telling stories that are deeply rooted in Tibetan culture yet retain an entirely universal cinematic vision.