In Tibetan Buddhism, the performing arts have historically served as vehicles for teaching the dharma. An example of this is the sacred dance, or cham, called Bardo Raksha Mangcham (Dance of the Intermediate State). This didactic dance-drama, performed at sacred festivals throughout Bhutan, combines a courtroom trial, visions of heaven and hell, and a liberal sprinkling of humor as it presents the journeys of two contrasting characters through the bardo. Khyentse Norbu’s film Hema Hema: Sing Me a Song While I Wait follows in this instructive tradition. The 2016 feature film (the fourth on his growing list of six) is finally enjoying its U.S. release in New York, California, and beyond from August through October. In this absorbing drama, we are given a singular glimpse into the bardo from one who takes teaching very seriously and uses all manner of skills to provoke us into waking up.
“Hema Hema” means “once upon a time” in Bhutan’s Dzongkha language; the English subtitle refers to a period of waiting, or bardo. The Tibetan word “bardo” is frequently translated as an “in-between state” ─ a state of transition. It typically refers to the time between death and rebirth. However, it can also refer to the period between birth and death, the period between falling asleep and waking up, the period of a dream or a meditation, or any transitional phase. It is believed that at the moment of death, if one enters a concentrated meditative state, one can merge directly into the clear light of one’s primordially pure nature and achieve liberation from samsaric rebirth. If that doesn’t happen, the bardo period between death and rebirth, which may last up to 49 days, affords many opportunities (and dangers) for one’s next birth. This period of heightened potential inspires Buddhists to train and prepare throughout life for the moment of death and the ensuing bardo with specific meditations and yogic practices. Hema Hema could be considered a form of bardo basic training ─ or at the very least, a call to introspection.
The film’s vision of the bardo comes from the creative mind of the Tibetan lama and scholar Khyentse Norbu, also known as Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse Rinpoche. Born in Bhutan in 1961, he was recognized at age seven as the third incarnation (tulku) of the founder of Khyentse lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. Along with being a renowned teacher, leader of a lineage, and founder of several influential organizations including the Khyentse Foundation and the 84000 translating project, Norbu is a writer, filmmaker, and director.
The film’s story takes place in a hidden forest. Shot in the dense jungles of southeastern Bhutan by cinematographer Jigme Tenzing, the frames quickly establish an intimacy with the natural surroundings. Our protagonist, a young Bhutanese man, dressed in his gho (the national attire for men that resembles a wraparound robe), makes his way barefooted through the overgrown brush. Finding a series of clues marking the way to some hidden location, he hastily disguises himself in a long, wraparound skirt, a blue shirt, a mop of long, blue tresses, and a beige, expressionless mask. He takes out a bamboo flute and begins playing it. After some time (depicted with a gorgeous, time-lapse sunset), he is surrounded by menacing, weapon-wielding, masked characters. They lead him away to a clearing in the forest where he joins a group of people who have convened for a two-week ritual that takes place once every 12 years.
The retreat boundaries are sealed, and no one is allowed to leave. An elder, who facilitates the event, instructs the gathering on the rules. They are to keep their identities hidden ─ hence, the masks. “You don’t even want other people to know your gender,” he tells them. “You are here to prepare for the gap between death and birth. You are here to find out who you really are.” He warns them that there may be those who want to uncover another’s identity and reminds them that anonymity is their power. But that anonymity may also cause some to be reckless.
It soon becomes clear that one’s gender is difficult to keep hidden ─ especially in the communal sleeping tent, during bathing, or when nature calls. They are even advised against speaking.
As the camera zooms in on individuals settling into their new environment or pans across communal scenes, we are treated to a colorful array of wildly evocative masks. Some are traditional Bhutanese masks of peaceful or wrathful entities, others are from Ache Lhamo (Tibetan Opera), and still others are Norbu’s own fantastical creations. One with Picasso-esque misshapen features provokes overwhelming sadness while masks of each of the five sense organs are eye-catching in their odd simplicity and blatant symbolism─especially when used in the opera choreography. It is notable that our protagonist has an expressionless visage, eliciting a kind of unbiased curiosity. The masks, both expressionless and with expression, often create a striking dissonance with the characters’ actions and situation.
No sooner than they are instructed to keep their identities hidden, but individuals begin to reveal their identifiable, habitual behaviors with small actions: rifling through others’ belongings, sneaking sips of alcohol, practical jokes, voyeurism, and sexual trysts. (Although not rated, this film is not for children.) Despite the plot set-up with its invitation to investigate a new identity, many quickly revert to their encumbered karmic patterns ─ a commentary on how tough they are to overcome and how easily we let opportunities slip by.
The film is rich with sensorial appeal. Bonfires blaze amid nighttime invented rituals featuring cham dances re-imagined with fanciful new costume designs and choreography. (Some of the characteristic movements and instrumental accompaniment are still recognizable.) The camera draws us into a torch-lit scene of collective folk dancing to thrummed Bhutanese lute music with intoxicating moments of physical closeness─particularly during one of the couple dances. In sharp contrast, a made-up folk opera presents an incisive teaching on the law of karma as the prophetic narrator cautions:
Plant rice, rice will grow.
Plant barley, barley will grow.
Plant negative actions, suffering will grow.
The plot takes a sudden turn when the lead character “Expressionless” comes under the grip of his physical attraction and desire for a character wearing a red wrathful mask. A string of incidents involving mask switching, confusion, and grave transgressions follows in a graphic illustration of how actions produce unending consequences. This drama plays out amid scenes of the ongoing nightly programming─the didactic folk opera. The white-masked narrator, robed in ghost-like attire, addresses a mock corpse chanting advice from the Bardo Thodrol (The Great Liberation by Hearing in the Intermediate States), traditionally read aloud to the dead and dying during the death process. He admonishes:
In the presence of the Lord of Death, you will be judged.
Have you deprived anyone of life?
Have you taken things that are not given?
Have you raped body or mind of others?”
Meanwhile, cham dancers in wrathful masks swirl through the scene to the clanking of metal rattles as they manipulate sword props cutting through delusion.
For those familiar with Himalayan culture and Buddhist beliefs, the film is unmistakable as a provocative teaching on the bardo, karma, samsara, and everything else in the dharma collection (the themes are all interconnected). But I wonder how this film would land on non-Buddhist audiences. With the depictions of menace, transgression, and Buddhist hell realms, there could be some confusion among those without a basic knowledge of Tibetan Buddhism. Sadly, in Bhutan, where the public would grasp the subject matter and nuance, the censor board (Bhutan Infocom and Media Authority) banned the screening of Hema Hema domestically when it was first released in 2016, deeming the film’s use of religious masks not to be in keeping with Bhutan’s culture and traditions. The move drew criticism from Bhutanese creatives and journalists and baffled the film’s producer Pawo Choyning Dorji, who had intentionally assembled a production team of Bhutanese youth to give them work experience, filmmaking skills, and exposure to a visionary Buddhist lama. The Bhutanese authorities did not defer to the film’s director, Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche, as a higher authority on what constitutes appropriate use of religious masks.
And what about the invisible masks we wear all the time in our bardo lives ─ all those constructed identities we attach ourselves to? Khyentse Norbu pierces through these deceptions as he bookends his fantasy ritual with another ritual, more familiar to our contemporary lives. We see a beautiful young woman dressed in a full kira ─ the classic Bhutanese attire for women ─ but alluring, with no under blouse. She balances drinks on a tray maneuvering between the press of bodies pulsing to the electronic beat as she pretends her way through a night of soul-numbing work in a crowded nightclub. Will the constellation of characters choose to liberate themselves from their respective samsaras? Khyentse Norbu keeps us guessing.
To check screening locations and view the film trailer, visit www.dekanalog.com/films/hema-hema. The film is now also available for streaming via Apple TV and Roku TV in the United States.
