1 hr
& 24 min, color, 2015
No, you are not suffering
from an illusion! What you read above is
not a mistake or a typo! The
internationally beloved book I reviewed and celebrated close to three years
ago, in July of 2013, now provides the substance of an animated feature film,
released last year and now available from Netflix. (I invite everyone, old subscribers and
recently added ones, to consult my website – enspiritus.blogspot.com – and page
back to that month and year to review what I said about it as a piece of
writing. If for some reason you cannot
find it, I will be happy to e-mail you a copy.)
I have to confess that I
approached the screening of the film with some trepidation. Gibran’s work is so special and rewarding to
me as sacred literature, one that I keep by my side and in my sight almost
constantly along with the Bible itself, that I was not sure its content could
serve as an appropriate source of fictional narrative. But I need not have sweated it; I find it to
be a touching and inspiring motion picture, not only spirit lifting and
instructive but also exciting fun to watch.
I like to think that Gibran himself would have treasured it.
The book has next to no plot
at all. Almustafa is depicted as a man
who for twelve years has been living in the city of Orphalese, an island
community, where he has been waiting for much of that length of time for a ship
to take him back to the isle of his birth.
When in the beginning he climbs a hill and spots the ship approaching,
he saunters down the slope into the town proper, eager to board, but when he
reaches the city square, his joy is suddenly mixed with sadness, catching sight
of all the friends he has made during his long stay and realizing that he must
leave them forever. The people do not
make the task easy for him; they crowd around pleading for him to wait a little
longer – long enough to give them a final summary of all his philosophical gems
of wisdom. The rest of the book consists
of his replies to inquiries concerning an almost exhaustive list of timeless
topics.
In the screenplay he is
called simply Mustafa, and he has for seven years (not twelve) been held in
official custody. It seems that
Orphalese is no longer a benign community of friendly neighbors and respectful
admirers; it is a military dictatorship, and our Prophet has been incarcerated
for the same “crime” for which Socrates was indicted – poisoning the minds of
the people with his “subversive” teachings.
But of course the people love him.
And there is a subplot that has been wed to the fable most ingeniously
without detracting in any way from the substance or spirit of Gibran’s ideas;
in fact it undergirds them.
A preadolescent girl named
Almitra plays a decisive role in the advancement of the plot. In the book this name is given to a woman
seer who was the first to persuade the Prophet to take up residence on the
island all those years before. She is
also the one who at the beginning of the discourse inquires after his teaching
about Love and the one who raises the subject of Death at the very end. But in the movie it is a child who bears this
name. The girl’s father has been dead
for two years, his death leaving her speechless for all the intervening
time. She can grunt or whine or chirp
with the sea gulls, but not a word has since fallen from her lips. Her sorrow has further been expressed in
disruptive behavior that has made merchants in the town deplore her. Her mother Kamila, the widow, who must toil
in the father/husband’s absence, finds it almost impossible to earn a living
and at the same time control her.
Kamila is employed as a maid
in the house where Mustafa is being confined.
One day Almitra skips school and secretly follows her mother to work,
where she meets the Prophet and becomes almost instantly attached to him. That happens to be the day when he is told by
a plump, testy uniformed official that he is being set free from his
confinement. While that is cheerful news
to him, it is upsetting news for Kamila, who is suddenly out of a job. The lives of the three of them – mother,
daughter and Mustafa – at once become intertwined, along with Halim, a klutzy
soldier who has been guarding Mustafa and is secretly in love with Kamila.
As Mustafa descends upon the
town, the people of the community become excited and thrilled to see him again
after a long absence. Up to this point
the story is lightweight and almost constantly amusing as well as seductive,
but this convocation sets the stage for a very tense series of happenings the
nearer to the ship in the harbor that the Prophet and his followers get. I will say no more about the plot, except to
indicate that there is a catch to the authorities’ promise of his freedom.
As one might expect, Gibran’s
poetic and philosophic adages occupy most of the film’s soundtrack as they
weave together with a most delectable score.
He addresses the subjects of Freedom, Children, Marriage, Work (“Work is
love made visible”), Eating and Drinking, Love, Good and Evil, and Death. The only momentary problem I had with the mix
consists of two attempts to provide vocal melody using the words of the text as
lyrics. I found those to be somewhat
forced and facile. But thankfully (for
me at least) this device is only attempted in two brief instances. In all the other recitations the voice of
Liam Neeson projecting Mustafa’s words is enough to carry the day. A better speaking voice they could not have
used; he oozes comfort and solemn joy at every turn. Gibran’s words in spoken form convey a music
all their own and Neeson demonstrates that immaculately; they did not need that
additional help. The instrumental music,
on the other hand, serves the mood and the magic exceedingly well; I was
enraptured by it. Other performers
recently introduced in films lend their voices to making the characters come to
life. Direction and Writing are credited to one Roger Allers.
Not the least of the animated
film’s superb properties that enhance the text is its artwork. I refer to the painterly images that bathe
the eye and the imagination, an almost steady stream of pure visual delight. If you take the time to sit through the
lengthy closing credits, you will observe that the images are not the creation
of any one artisan or company of artisans.
Many hands contributed to this delicate showcase of work, far too many
for me to be able to name and recognize each and every one. The film is a production of the Doha Film
Institute, and in the previews displayed before the feature starts you will see
a sample of the kind of animated work they put out.
Lest I be misunderstood, let
me state unequivocally that the film, as fine as it is, is no substitute for
the book from which it is derived. We
should be speaking of both/and, not either /or.
Gibran’s literary masterpiece is a complete study unto itself. Readers of “The Prophet” can enjoy the
colorful tribute that the film crew has paid to Gibran’s memory, but you do
yourself a disservice if you do not read and digest the written text. It is one of those printed works that have
beckoned many deep thinkers and spiritual seekers to read and reread it,
perhaps a plurality of times. I plan
before long to start my fifth reading.
It is inexhaustible; the nuggets of truth it contains will keep an
explorer searching, maybe forever. It
covers that much ground.
Kahlil Gibran was born in
Jordan in 1883 and died in middle age in 1931.
The book, published in 1923, has been in print ever since he passed
away.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com. To learn about me consult on the website the
blog entry for August 9, 2013.
