Kundun, Kashmir offer culture

Tom McCarthy -
Friday, February 13, 1998 issue
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leave Knoxville in the same acquiescent fashion as it appeared. Acclaimed filmmaker Martin Scorcese's tailored account of Tibetan life in the last half of the 20th Century is quite simply a profound learning experience, disguised by his ability to combine ornate costumes, visually beautiful landscape and mesmerizing sound.

Scorcese tackled this lofty project because of an interest in the life of the fourteenth reincarnation of the Buddha of Compassion, and the persistence and flawless script of screenwriter Melissa Mathison.

Mathison, whose credits include that story about the alien with the glowing finger and telephone, and is married to that guy, sometimes known as Han Solo, Indiana Jones and most recently, the President of the United States, created this story with the help of the Dalai Lama himself.

It begins in 1937 when Tenzin Gyatso, at only two-years-old, was recognized as the political and spiritual leader of Tibet. The film chronicles his development into the world's foremost proprietor of non-violence.

It compassionately displays his efforts to modernize his homeland while retaining its faith as well as its independence from the clenching jaws of Chairman Mao's Communist China.

The film portrays the brutal oppression of Chinese occupation of Tibet by detailing the efforts of this man of peace to deny it. To ensure the authenticity of the film, Scorcese retained the services of exiled Tibetans living in India, Canada and the United States, rather than using professional actors, to fill these historical roles.

Production took place in Morocco, whose desert and high mountains allowed the film to capture the splendid beauty of the Tibetan landscape. The authenticity of this film, complete with Tibetan costuming and hypnotizing sound, carries the audience through a fifth of this Century in around two hours with the greatest of ease.

As the credits rolled, my attention diverted to the hunger pains lying inside me. Where could I solve this dilemma? Are there any Tibetan-food joints in Knoxville?

To my dismay there are not. However, I recalled seeing a sign erected not to long ago on 17th Street that reads Kashmir India. Because the Dalai Lama is exiled to India by the Chinese, I thought giving Indian cuisine a try would be more sensitive than ordering Dynasty Express.

As I entered Kashmir India, I was instantly greeted by a smiling, turban-topped gentleman, who handed me a menu and directed me to a table. At this point my hunger was dwarfed by the rumor-spawned fear of Indian food's nasty effect on a virgin stomach. My phobia was substantiated by a disclaimer residing on the menu jacket that reads, "MANAGEMENT NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR PERSONAL LOSS." No comment.

In order to quell this fear I altered my focus to the restaurant's decor. To be honest, there really wasn't any, but no matter, I was there to eat. As I waded through the surprising list of Indian beers, I came across Taj Mahal, a towering pint-and-a-half bearing a taste paralleled by none-other-than "The Beast."

My introduction to Indian cuisine, arrived in the form of a complimentary serving of spicy onion chutney with crisp lentil wafers, followed by a basket of various Indian breads. I concluded the meal with a generous entree that I couldn't pronounce, let alone spell. I am happy to report it was delicious, a true feast. Sadly enough, my indulgence allowed me to realize my underlying fear.

Kashmir India is open seven-days-a-week, with lunch for under five dollars and dinner for under 10. Additionally, they offer an All-U-Can-eat lunch buffet on the weekends.

Kundun is playing at the Terrace Theater. It won't be there long, so get out and see it. It is a story that needs to be told.

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