 It
was the summer of 2002, and Dr François Prévost
was six years into the making of his independent documentary
on the plight of the Tibetan people. He had been working
eight months of every year as a family doctor in the northern
Quebec territory of Nunavik, and spending the rest of
his time and money doing research and gathering footage
in Tibet. But for all his effort, he still had no clear
idea of what his film would be about.
Then, that fateful summer, Dr Prévost
travelled to the Indian headquarters of the Tibetan
government-in-exile in Dharamsala to tape a formal interview
with the Dalai Lama. As their talk came to an end, the
young doctor had a bold notion. He informed His Holiness
that he was on his way back to Tibet, and offered to
record a message from the Tibetan leader directly to
his people. "He paused for a few moments, looking up
at the ceiling," Dr Prevost recalls. "And then he began
speaking in Tibetan, without pausing, for five minutes.
I couldn't tell what he was saying, but I had the sense
that it was something profound."
There in Dharamsala, the 36-year-old
physician from Montmagny, Quebec suddenly saw the light.
The digital recording of the Dalai Lama's words would
provide him with just the device he needed to achieve
his cinematic goal: an intimate view of the attitudes
of ordinary Tibetans about their fate under Chinese
rule. All he had to do was get the video to the people.
All images of the Dalai Lama are strictly forbidden
in Tibet — to attempt to screen a video of him
there would be a dangerous act of subversion. But when
it came to filmmaking, the doc-cum-documentarian was
not averse to risk.
RACING
TOWARD FILMMAKING
Dr Prévost's preoccupation with the moving image
began in 1994, when he was selected to participate in
a Radio Canada program called La Course Destination
Monde. The program featured eight contestants who
raced around the world with video cameras, producing
five-minute clips in each place they hit (think The
Amazing Race meets The Passionate Eye). Dr
Prévost's intrepid reporting and skilled videography
won him first place in the 1994-95 season. More importantly,
his brief stop in Tibet sparked his fascination with
the mystical region and its enigmatic, subjugated people.
The following year, he convinced
the producers of the popular French-language newsmagazine
Le Point to send him back to Tibet to shoot a
30-minute report. Due to increasing restrictions by
Chinese officials, it had been six years since the CBC
had managed to get a journalist into the country. But
because he was a physician, not a journalist, Dr Prévost
was able to slip in on a tourist visa and get the footage
that he needed. The CBC was thrilled, but the doctor
was unsatisfied with the results. "I felt the report
was not really deep," he says. "We couldn't get close
enough to the Tibetans themselves to tell the story
through their eyes and in their words." While editing
the report, he found the answer to his predicament in
the form of a young translator named Kalsang Dolma.
MUSE-IN-WAITING
A Tibetan born in a refugee camp in Hunsur, India in
1972, Ms Dolma emigrated to Montreal as a teenager.
In addition to her gregarious charm and captivating
smile, she's fluent in two of the three Tibetan dialects.
Dr Prévost recognized her at once as an invaluable
'passport' to Tibet — the press materials from
the NFB call her the 'muse' of the film they eventually
made, Ce qu'il reste de nous (What Remains of Us).
In 2000, Dr Prévost accompanied Ms Dolma on her
very first visit to her true homeland. It was an emotionally
charged experience for both of them, but it was not
until they had the Dalai Lama's special recording in
their hands that their real adventure began.
In 2002, armed with a mini DVD
player concealed in a bright yellow Tibetan blanket,
Ms Dolma, Dr Prévost and co-director Hugo Latulippe
embarked on their secret mission: to get Tibetans not
only to watch the illicit recording, but also to permit
the crew to capture their reactions on video. In a country
where the crime of speaking out against the Chinese
regime bears a penalty of 15 years in prison, and a
state of paranoid silence is sustained by stories of
neighbours and family members informing upon one another,
this was an arduous task.
DANGEROUS
MISSION
To shake off the inevitable Chinese officials who tailed
them in the city, the three travelled by jeep and on
foot into remote parts of the country. Upon arriving
in a new place, they would hang around for at least
a week, gaining the confidence of the local people before
Ms Dolma would pop the big question. By this painstaking
strategy, they managed to convince 300 people to watch
the video, and a surprising number of them to be recorded
doing so.
The need for extreme caution didn't
let up when shooting ended. Aware that the film might
fall into the hands of Chinese authorities, the team
edited with a view to protecting their subjects. They
mixed exterior and interior shots haphazardly, so that
no face could be associated with a location. They also
made the difficult decision to cut out any anti-Chinese
remarks made by their Tibetan interviewees, including
only the more benign commentaries and professions of
faith in the Dalai Lama.
TRULY
INDEPENDENT
What Remains of Us is a testament to Dr Prévost's
perseverance — he financed nearly the entire project
out of his own pocket, gaining funding from the National
Film Board of Canada only in the final months of editing.
"He really wanted to remain independent," recalls Mr
Latulippe, a veteran filmmaker who met Dr Prévost
as a fellow racer in La Course Destination Monde.
"He didn't understand the workings of the industry,
but he had incredible faith in this project and was
determined to see it through."
Dr Prévost insists that
the financial sacrifice was a non-issue. "I have a very
simple lifestyle," he explains. "I'm just a single guy
with a backpack, a guitar and a camera. So I spent a
lot of money making this happen." He adds, "If someone
has a family, they might choose to buy a house, to make
their family comfortable. My great concern was with
the situation inside Tibet, and so I was ready to make
that choice."
Since its release last summer,
the success of What Remains of Us has more than
justified the doctor's sacrifices. It was an official
selection at the Cannes film festival, won awards at
the Atlantic, Vancouver and Hollywood film festivals
and is currently up for a 2005 Academy Award nomination.
But the accolade that stands out in Dr Prévost's
mind is one you're not likely to see in the Hollywood
Reporter. After a screening in Vancouver, a Chinese
couple rushed up to him and Ms Dolma and fell into their
arms, sobbing. The couple had been among the protesters
in Tiananmen Square in 1989, and said the film had stirred
emotions in them that they had repressed for 15 years.
"That moment was my greatest reward," the doctor says.
|
