I had just finished watching “Kumaré” at Ebertfest, this quasi-documentary in which the director, Vikram Gandhi, poses as an Indian guru and dupes a small flock of disciples into believing he’s the real deal. Surely these people were the butt of the joke for believing him, and surely he must’ve felt pretty good about making this point about phony prophets.
But then Gandhi came out on stage and discussed the film. In his presence, the message of the movie had more weight and intellectual clarity. It wasn’t a mockumentary, and it wasn’t a slam on religion. “Kumaré” was a film about belief, not God, and not even Atheism. Then Gandhi did something curious: he donned his fake Indian accent that transformed him to Kumaré, and he led the audience of 1500 people in his fake chant and meditation ritual.
Having just seen the movie and met the man, I knew it was fake, the audience knew it was fake, and yet in that moment with all those people, I had a miniature moment of spiritual enlightenment. It felt real and meaningful enough to me, and that’s the whole point.
Admittedly, this little moment was part of what won me over to “Kumaré.” It’s a funny documentary with outrageous scenarios, touching encounters and intellectual and profound ideas, but the nature of the film itself always feels questionable, and even if the intention is in the right place, there’s much discussion to be had about Gandhi’s directorial choices.
The first point up for question was his motivation to make the film. He front-ends his personal life story growing up in New Jersey but being forced into extreme Hindu tradition, only to become more skeptical as he worked his way through religious studies in college. Americans quickly embraced yoga and Indian spirituality as he was rejecting it, and he began making a documentary as to why. The gurus he met from all across the globe all seemed the same to him, all believing to be special in their own mind, but ultimately carrying the same flimsy rituals and faith as everyone else.
Gandhi then poses the ultimate what-if: couldn’t I become a guru too? Could I amass a following and make people believe in me? Some plausible, Pete Townshend inspired yoga moves, a wacky trident walking staff and a made up location in rural India later, and Kumaré was born.
In doing all this preliminary biography for both himself and the fictional Kumaré, the focus of the film is drastically shifted to Gandhi himself and his own personal transformation, not necessarily those of his disciples. As they appear on camera and contradict everything that’s just been said, how else could we possibly see them than as a sort of victim?
This would be less of a concern if Gandhi was strictly solemn even as he played a prank, but his excursions to colonies of religious cults who believe they will have their own planet, to another guy who prayed in front of photos of Barack Obama and Osama bin Laden and then finally to a man who used a car buffer as his spiritual medium, say otherwise.
Gandhi even winks at the camera when he’s in character, outwardly telling the audience and one of the followers that he’s actually the director of this movie, or a little “happiness symbol” that does its winking for him because it looks a lot like a one-eyed monster.
This breaking of the fourth wall seems a lot less like a performance art, least of all from a person with no formal acting training, and more of an intellectual stunt, even if the intentions, the message and the end goal all turn out noble as Gandhi begins to drink his own Kool-Aid and helps his followers find their own inner guru.
“You are all great beings, and you all must stop believing you are not.” That’s the simplified thesis “Kumaré” runs with, and it’s a good one, even if discussing it inspires more intelligent thought (and in the case of that Ebertfest audience, enlightenment) afterwards than it does during the movie.
3 stars