Bhutanese Films and Theaters

Bhutanese people take pride in three names—religion, culture, and tradition—and these are all interconnected. They often come to the rescue of our identity and nationalism when engaging with the outside world or participating in intellectual debates abroad.

As a proud and true Bhutanese, I once hoped that our youth would deeply absorb Bhutanese values. But as it turns out, only a few young people now show interest in religion, culture, and tradition.

However, being a devoted son of Bhutan comes with its own perils. When I was thirteen, I watched Gasa Lamay Singye with my friends. It was Bhutan's first movie. It was not about religion, culture, or tradition, but about human bonds—a love triangle. There were small quarrels, fights, dishoom-dishoom, and songs. The movie moved some of us to want to be like its heroes, and it entered our juvenile brains. It was no traditional-cultural film, I remember.

Today, when I look back at those days, a sense of nostalgia takes over. I can still recall the scenes of that movie. It was, in fact, the beginning of filmmaking in the country. I am not a Bhutanese movie buff now. I watched Gasa Lamay Singye simply because there was no television at the time. Now, I am the type of "Woods"—just like many of us—Hollywood and Bollywood. I have watched about seven Bhutanese movies so far, and I find them a little un-Bhutanese: tactless, amateurish, sluggish, and predictable. They are all copycats—Bollywood copying Hollywood, Hollywood copying Bollywood, and other "Woods," and then Bhutanwood, or "Drukpawood." Our Drukpawood is a mixture, a masala of all Woods, hoping to become delicious emadatshi. Thinking that our Drukpawood could reach international standards, we copy. But in the end, it tastes ordinary. Our Dzongkha is becoming "Dzonglish." Let us think about this: Fiji, a country smaller than Bhutan, produces some of the world's best films.

Most of our movies do not tell the stories of our country's rich history—its historical background and traditions. We have so many Penlops, Deps, legends, myths, and folktales that could be made into very good films. For example, the legend of Ling Gesar Gyap, Zhabdrung and his dzongs, and others could become beautiful movies. But nowadays, we live in a floating world, so we see in movies flashy cars, immaculate houses, decked-up ladies in tatters, fancy mood lighting—all flesh and bones—and it is difficult to understand what is being portrayed and why.

Bhutanese movies are heavily threaded with misery and a weepy kind of life, with only little sparkling moments of joy that bring a smile to the viewer's face. There are scenes like Phurba Thinley trying to behave like a woman, which draws small laughs, or westernized musical parties where kids gather, dance, and sing "Nga Chelu Ga" or a "ting-a-ling-ling" song. Otherwise, there are no striking moments. Scenes where Singlam and Galam visit their old ruined house and break down, or the cruel mother-in-law Aum Lamo smashing her daughter-in-law's head against the wall, or heroes running through poverty and dejection (usually because of the woman they love)... gripping lives... and then they understand each other's hearts, come together, start a new life, and succeed within a minute—with little connection. Most of the time, the films tighten the knots of brutal and faithless life, making audiences—especially Bhutanese women—mistake their own lives for the film.

Aristotle rightly said that films must excite, startle, thrill, and shake viewers. These effects cannot be produced by a play lacking conflict. Conflict in a movie may be between human beings pulling in different directions, between a character and their environment, or between a character and the society they belong to. Movies must generally represent human suffering, which raises pity and fear among audiences and leads them to consider a film great in its tragic appeal. The misfortune portrayed should be simple and straightforward, yet sublime and universal in its penetrating appeal.

In my judgment, a good film should represent human suffering, evoke fear and pity, use embellished language, have an emotional or cathartic appeal, and above all, educate, entertain, and inform. There are two views on the tragic vision of life. One is that man is the plaything of an inscrutable power called fate; the other is that character is responsible for the tragic end. In Greek tragedies, the tragic fate of the heroes is predetermined. Oedipus and Antigone become obstinate and tyrannical. Their tragedy is due to their overconfidence in their respective attitudes.

Although films portray the contradictions of our lives, a majority of viewers take them as reality. Because of this, films should touch on various themes and issues. Instead of love failures dominating most Bhutanese films, they must represent history, contemporary Bhutanese society, changing relationships, and educate about the morals of faith and belief.

Moviemakers cannot retell the story of Gasa Lamay Singye again and again. Bhutan has a rich, diverse history. We have so many untold stories. Our people are rich; each of us has much to share. Every stone, every tree, every valley, every hill, every mountain, every village has a story to tell. There is a Galem and Singye in every hamlet, an Amrish Puri, a Phurba Thinley in every hamlet. There are unsung heroes. We are not short of stories. But we are short of an audience.

Many Bhutanese movies are said to have run at a loss. The question is: why? Why do most Bhutanese movies run at a loss? Why has Bhutan not succeeded with our Drukpawood? Why are Bhutanese people not skilled at producing better movies? What is lacking in our entertainment industry?

I think we are not devoid of a market or audience—people do like to watch—but we lack good places for screening. Our villagers are hungry for Bhutanese movies.

Therefore, to bring Bhutanese movies to our hungry audience, we need good distribution systems and good entertainment venues, especially halls or theaters. Good halls with proper seating, sound systems, and so on. They would also serve as meeting places for local communities. Ideally, such halls should be in every gewog, or even every chiwog. Building good theater infrastructure and providing better, efficient facilities for audiences would profit filmmakers and improve the quality of movies.

In this way, we could promote our own films and Drukpawood, and promote our own shows, thereby educating through our own traditions. Not only that, we would create many job opportunities in this industry and generate significant revenue. We would likely see fewer drug users and less crime overall, as such venues engage people and give them a second thought.

Our neighbor India has a very strong and prosperous film industry because almost every small town has good cinema halls.

Bhutan does not have many good halls. We have some in Thimphu, Phuntsholing, Samdrup Jongkha, and Gelephu. But these are not really theaters—they are simple halls. They all lack good sound systems and technical quality. The size and cleanliness of these halls could put them in Grade G.

I hope our government will look into this matter and establish good theaters. I am ready to contribute a small amount to help build good theaters in our country.

Movies Move Mind

A few weeks ago, I watched a Bhutanese movie called Acho Kelden in Darla Hall. The film deals with general family issues. A couple gets divorced and leaves their children behind in a village. One of the underlying reasons appears to be the lust for money—something Bhutanese people are often accused of. The story narrates how an infant survives with the help of animals. Overall, the plot is quite unique compared to most other Bhutanese movies. However, the sad thing about Acho Kelden was the number of audience members who turned up. I looked around and counted only sixteen people sitting on the ramshackle benches. The hall resembled a ruined house—a ghastly one. There were a few broken benches, dusty and grimy; everything was in horrible condition. Some viewers sat on the cement floor in the chilling cold weather.

After watching Acho Kelden and witnessing the condition of the hall, scores of questions came to my mind. Why do most Bhutanese movies run at a loss? Why has Bhutan not succeeded with our films? Why are Bhutanese people not skilled at producing better movies? What is lacking in our entertainment industry?

Bhutan has a rich, diverse, and varied history. We have so many untold stories. Our people are rich in experience; each one of us has many things to share. Every stone, every tree, every valley, every hill, every mountain, and every village has a story to tell. There is a Galem and Singye in every hamlet. There is an Amrish Puri or a Phurba Thinley in every hamlet. There are unsung heroes everywhere. We are not short of stories. But we are short of an audience.

I believe we are not devoid of a market or an audience—people do want to watch—but we lack good places for screening. Back in my village in Pemagatshel, the villagers are hungry for Bhutanese movies. I am confident that Acho Kelden, even at the same price of Nu. 50, would draw more than a hundred viewers there.

It is often said that our culture and traditions are slowly weakened by media—entertainment mediums like television, live shows, films, and talk programs. These media have a great impact on our society, not only changing the way people think but also altering lifestyles. Therefore, we must be careful about which movies are allowed to be watched. For that reason, BIMCA censors movies. On the other hand, entertainment mediums can also be preservers and custodians of a nation's culture, traditions, and customs. Movies and documentaries are great sources of knowledge. Not only do some of us imitate the best performers, but we also sometimes come to believe what we see. Therefore, in order to bring Bhutanese movies to our hungry audience, we need good distribution systems and good entertainment venues—especially halls or theaters. We need good buildings with proper stages, quality sound systems, and other facilities. Such halls would also serve as meeting places for local communities. Ideally, good halls should be built in every gewog, or if possible, in every chiwog.

In this way, we could promote our own films and Drukpawood, and promote our own shows, thereby educating people through our own traditions. Not only that, we would create many job opportunities in this industry and generate significant revenue. We would likely see fewer drug users and less crime overall, because such venues engage people and give them a second thought.

Our neighbor India has a very strong and prosperous film industry because almost every small town has very good cinema halls.

Bhutan does not have many good theaters. We have some in Thimphu, Phuntsholing, Samdrup Jongkhar, and Gelephu. But these are not really theaters—they are simple halls. All of them lack good sound systems and technical quality. The size and cleanliness of these halls could easily put them in Grade G.

I have also been thinking about our live shows and singing contests like Druk Superstar, Bhutan Star, Talent Hunt, and similar programs. These reality shows remain simple, but they lack quality compared to similar shows elsewhere. The low quality of filming, poor sound, weak presentation by participants, and drab backgrounds make these shows not very presentable for national television.

I hope our government will look into this matter and establish good theaters across the country. I am ready to contribute a small amount to help build good theaters in Bhutan.

I also hope that live shows will improve their broadcasting quality. Furthermore, I hope the entertainment industry introduces different types of shows—such as dramas, skits, and comedy programs. Singing contests like Druk Star and Talent Hunt may be good ways of making money, but often the money feels unethically earned when the quality of presentations and participants remains so low.

Hollywood <>+=-?<>Bollywood and then to Drukpawood

Bhutanese take pride in three things: religion, culture, and tradition. These often come to the rescue of our identity and nationalism whenever intellectual debates arise from outside.

As a proud and real Bhutanese, I want my youth to absorb as much of Bhutanese culture as possible. But as luck would have it, none of the youth today show much interest in religion, culture, or tradition.

However, being a subservient son of Bhutan has its own perils. When I was thirteen, I watched Gasa Lamai Singye with my friends. It was Bhutan's first movie. To be honest, it was not about religion, culture, or tradition—it was about human bonds: a love triangle. There were a few fights (dishoom-dishoom) and some songs. The movie moved some of us to want to be like the heroes, and it entered our juvenile brains. It was no traditional or cultural film, I remember.

Today, when I look back at those days, a sense of nostalgia takes over. I can still recall the flicks of that movie. It marked the emergence of filmmaking in the country. I am not a Bhutanese movie buff. I watched Gasa Lamai Singye simply because there was no television at that time. Now, I am a type of "Wood"—Hollywood and Bollywood. I have watched only about seven Bhutanese movies so far. Therefore, I find Bhutanese movies a little un-Bhutanese: tactless, amateurish, sluggish, and predictable. They are all copycats. Bollywood copies Hollywood, Hollywood copies Bollywood, other "woods" copy each other, and then it trickles down to Drukpawood. Our Drukpawood is a mixed masala of all the Woods. Filmmakers think it will become a delicious emadatshi—and that because of this tasty emadatshi, our Drukpawood could match international standards. So we copy. But otherwise, it is the same commonly tasted flavor. Our Dzongkha is becoming Dzonglish. Anyway, let us consider this: Fiji, a country smaller than Bhutan, produces some of the world's best movies.

Most of our Bhutanese movies do not depict the rich history of our country—its historical background and traditions. We had so many Penlops, Deps, legends, myths, and folktales that could be made into very good films. For example, the legend of Ling Gesar Gyap, Zhabdrung and his Dzongs, and many others could become beautiful movies. But nowadays—yes, nowadays—we live in a floating world. So we see in our movies flashy cars, immaculate houses, decked-up ladies in tatters, fancy mood lighting—all flesh and bones—and it is difficult to understand what is being portrayed and why.

Some film directors look like rocky rock. Take Tshering Wangyel, for instance—his girlish hair and the blackest spectacles. Whatever he may be, people love his direction and his films.

Photo credit: Facebook (

Bhutanese movies are very much threaded in misery and a weepy kind of life, with few sparkling moments of joy that bring a smile to the viewer's face. The scene in which Phurba Thinley tries to behave like a woman gives little guffaws, or the westernized musical party where kids gather, dance, and sing "Nga Chelu Ga, Che NgaLu Ga" or a "ting-a-ling-ling" song. Otherwise, there is no striking moment in the movie. Consider the scene where Singlam and Galam go to see their old ruined house and break apart; or the cruel mother-in-law, Aum Lamo, who crushes the head of the hero's girlfriend and thrashes her against the wall; or the scenes of heroes running through poverty and dejection—usually because of the lady they love—gripping lives, until finally they understand each other's hearts, come together, and start a new life, which succeeds within a minute of screen time. Most of the time, the films tighten the knots of brutal and faithless life, making audiences—especially Bhutanese women—believe their own lives are just like the films.

Films must excite, startle, thrill, and shake viewers. These effects cannot be produced by a play that lacks conflict. The conflict in a movie may be between human beings pulling in different directions, between a character and the environment he finds himself in, or the society of which he is a member. Movies must generally represent human suffering, which raises pity and fear among audiences and makes them decide that the film is great in its tragic appeal. The misfortune in the film should be simple and straightforward, but sublime and universal in its penetrative appeal.

A good film, by my judgment, should represent human suffering, evoke fear and pity, use embellished language, and have an emotional or cathartic appeal. Above all, it should educate, entertain, and inform. There are two views on the tragic vision of life. One is that man is the plaything of an inscrutable power called fate. The other is that character is responsible for the tragic end. In Greek tragedies, the tragic fate of the heroes is predetermined. Oedipus and Antigone become obstinate and tyrannical. Their tragedy comes from their overconfidence in their respective attitudes.

Though films portray the antinomies of our lives, the majority of our viewers take them as reality. Because of this, films should touch on various themes and issues—not only love failures, which dominate most of our Bhutanese films. Films must also represent history, contemporary Bhutanese society, roles, changing relationships, and educate viewers about the morals of faith and believing.