FAIRYTALES, FRIENDSHIPS, DELUSIONS
Mar 20th, 2008 by Conor McCabe
I tied up my hands
With the chains of loneliness
I will miss you no more
I put my memory into disrepair
Under the weight of forgetfulness
I will long for you no more
Now I send you my heart
In this dish of poetry
So that I won’t fall in love with you
Again
These are the words with which Neasa Ni Chianain ends Fairytale of Kathmandu. The lines are from a poem written by Cathal O Searcaigh, and Ni Chianain reads them over images of the poet walking alone among the hills of Donegal. It is quite appropriate, this certain mixture of imagery and poetry, for this film is about the relationship between Ni Chianain and O Searcaigh, and how that relationship came to an end.
There has been a ton of commentary on this film since it was shown last week on RTE. I finally got to see it last night, and I was struck by one thing: the topic of the film may be O Searcaigh; but the subject - what the film is actually about - is Ni Chianain. More specifically, it is about Ni Chianain´s sense of betrayal and, to a lesser degree, her sense of morality as well.
Some people have asked why Ni Chianain did not make a more general film about sex tourism in Nepal, about why she did not show the other westerners in Kathmandu who pick up teenage girls and have sex with them. I think the answer is quite simple: none of the other sex tourists were friends with Ni Chianain. The film is not an investigation into Nepal, or Nepalese society. It is the story of how a filmmaker lost an old friend but found a new topic.
In the following clip, the owner of the hotel at which O Searcaigh is staying asks Ni Chianain if he can speak to her on camera. He has something to say.
The owner tells Ni Chianain that all westerners in Nepal want something, that all their talk of help is just “blah blah”. He wishes that westerners just helped without terms and conditions, and that they opened their eyes to the poverty and to what westerners are doing in poor countries. Ni Chianain threats this as her epiphany, the moment when she realized that she had to open her eyes to what O Searcaigh was doing. Thing is, that’s not what the owner said: he was talking about all westerners, including her.
He wanted to get his message out. There is nothing to suggest that he saw Ni Chianain in any way different to all the other westerners he had come across. Indeed, Ni Chianain makes it clear that she had never spoken to the man outside of housekeeping issues. It is also clear that she does not see herself as one of “them” - one of those westerners who comes to Nepal to get something for themselves. In some ways, Ni Chianain is guilty of a level of self-delusion as well. She believes herself to be the “good” westerner.
The final clip is the moment when Ni Chianain confronts O Searcaigh about his relationships in Nepal - the gifts and presents and the sex.
Ni Chainain talks about how O Searcaigh´s spell has been broken, and how the Nepalese prayers and flags around his houses did not seem so exotic anymore. (I would have presumed that her trip to Nepal would have done the job with regard to exoticism, but no matter.)
Furthermore, she gives the impression that this is the first time we meet this new, changed Ni Chainain - the one who sees her former friend in such a changed light. This is, to say the least, a bit of a cheat on her part. The new Ni Chainain has been with us through very cut and every edit of every scene. She may not have directly spoken, but film has a language, and Ni Chainain has been letting us know what she thinks since the opening credits.
The final scene is a note from Ni Chainain, letting us know that no crime was committed by O Searcaigh. All the young men were on or over the legal age limit in Nepal. This makes it all the more clear that Ni Chainain´s outrage is a moral one. She is not alone in this, for morality has dominated discussion since before the national screening.
It is not often I get to say this, but Fintan O´Toole´s article (Irish Times, sub required) on the film is simply wrong. In it he tried to compare O Searcaigh´s action to those of Micheál Ledwith, former president of St Patrick’s College, Maynooth. O’Toole peels away all of what Micheál Ledwith did, and was accused of, until he gets to a position where he can give a comparison between the two men. (Basically, if Ledwith was more like THIS, instead of like THAT, then with THIS we see that his THIS is comparable in places to O Searcaigh´s THIS. Jessica Fletcher would be proud.)
Fairytale of Kathmandu is a film about delusions. O Searcaigh comes across as a sex tourist. He may not have broken any laws, but what he was doing was wrong. He never sees it, never questions the morality of his actions. The delusion, however, does not stop there. Ni Chainain believes that her voice-over narrative of firm believer, then skeptic, then accuser, will somehow hide the fact that her visual narrative is a sixty minute accusation. Furthermore, it becomes clear that Ni Chainain does not see herself as a westerner - at least not in the way that the Nepalese think of westerners.
The film´s website carries a statement from Ni Chainain. In it she says:
Perhaps because I am a mother, and I was still nursing my second child during the shoot, my protective instincts were high. I kept thinking, “what if I were a Nepalese mother, and I had struggled to raise my children in such poverty? What if they had made it through their childhood and were about to embark on a third level education, with all the possibilities that would bring to their young lives? What if they met a friendly westerner… who offered to help them; but who in fact sexualized them? What would I do?”
All these questions are rhetorical ones; so, the answer must be: if I were a Nepalese mother struggling with poverty, and suddenly I was confronted with a predatory westerner hanging around my son, I´d go to the film board, get funding, and make a documentary about it.
Nepal is full of westerners with good intentions who think they know how the Nepalese think. Fairytale of Kathmandu tells us little about Nepal, but a hell of a lot about the Irish who go there - the moralistic filmmakers and the sex tourist poets.
Watching this again has reminded me how downright annoying the voice-over was.
On your point about the language of film: what should we think about the final note that says ‘The Nepalese NGO Voice of Children is providing counselling and support for boys in these situations’?
Coming as it does after the final interview with O Searcaigh, you could be forgiven for thinking that what is being said here is that the NGO is providing counselling and support for boys whom O Searcaigh has abused.
But that isn’t what the note says. It employs the present continuous, which gives the impression that the NGO is doing things now as a consequence of what has been shown in the film.
It refers to ‘these situations’, which might give the impression that among these ’situations’ might be the situation of having been exploited sexually by Cathal O Searcaigh himself, but it stops short of saying so.
The conclusion I draw from the inclusion of this detail is that the film-maker is trying to say something like this: just in case you are tempted to think I have been using the stories and images of the boys for my own ends, let me tell you that NGOs are involved in Nepal, and I know about them, so doubt not my sincerity.
It strikes me as a form of moral blackmail: endorse what this film is saying, or be responsible for the exploitation of Nepalese boys.
Oh I agree. I mean, again, this film tells us very little about Nepal, but an awful lot about Ireland and the Irish. The high moral tone - the only high tone possible as O Searcaigh´s crimes are of a moral, not a legal, nature - came out not only in the film but in the reaction in Ireland as well.
Even with that, there’s the assumption that by holding the hand of an NGO it’s possible to take the high moral ground. I really don’t know about that. Some NGOs are good, some are not. Some are trying to help, some are only short of the “white man´s burden” in their attitude to the world’s poor. I need more information about an organisation than simply “it´s an NGO” in order to know whether it’s a feel good for westerners trip, or an actual do good body. But, again, Irish history post 1922, the one thing we did in this world was get involved in NGOs. Trocaire, GORTA, GOAL, Chernobyl Children’s Project etc. We’re Irish, we’re here to help, you know?
As well, there’s something peculiarly western about sending Nepalese young men to counseling, after they’ve had sex with a western man. And this is not to single out Ni Chianain. She’s coming from a culture in Ireland where her actions would be applauded by many. Indeed, they have been applauded by many. And it’s that home reaction that I believe makes this film all the more fascinating. However, I can’t really see it causing much of a stir outside of Ireland because of that.
Take away Ni Chianain and the home reaction, the offense to morality, and you’re left with: fat Irish poet goes to Nepal and has sex with young men. He reads them haikus, they laugh and take his money. I mean, it’s hardly Nick Broomfield.
it makes a refreshing change… usually friendships protect people who abuse their power… and sometimes the particular is universal too… it highlights an issue more powerfully than maybe another film could as it goes deep into the twisted logic of one man… but she made this film and this film… if she made another film would someone say why didn’t she make THAT one instead of THIS one… if he wasn’t an artist and he wasn’t gay i don’t think it would have played out as it did… and certain senators wouldn’t have compromised themselves by their own shaky defence of the poet, as o’toole implied in his article… in that sense, o’toole IS on the money… the director’s voice over was annoying, she did take a moral position, of course she did… so what…
But what issue has it raised? Ni Chianain has made it clear that the “plot” of the film changed when she got over there. It turned from one about an Irish poet who goes to Nepal, to an Irish filmmaker let down by her idol. The clumsy attempts at the end of the film to link the film to the wider issue of sex tourism in Nepal are a bit laughable, I have to say. As Hugh pointed out, the note saying that young men in similar situations receive counseling is a general statement about sex tourism in Nepal.
Ni Chianain´s final word on the subject is the scene where O Searcaigh walks alone over the hills while she reads out a poem about broken love. There lies the real issue in this little Irish movie.
no… it turned into a film about a man in a position of trust and authority abusing that position for sex… i don’t think you need to watch it in 3D and stereophonic sound to get that one basic fact…
Really? What position of trust and authority was O Searcaigh in? What I saw was a well-off Westerner buying clothes and bikes for Nepalese men in return for sex. There’s no position of authority there, certainly no position of trust. I mean, he wasn’t in charge of anyone. This is where the analogies to Micheál Ledwith break down. There was a man who WAS in a position of trust and authority who abused that authority. O Searcaigh’s “authority” and “position of trust” is that of a tourist, albeit a tourist for sex.
I mean, he’s a resident in a hotel who hands out money to young men outside schools. Hardly a position of authority and trust.
Ni Chianain´s movie is more concerned with her reaction to O Searcaigh, rather than the wider issue of sex tourism in Nepal. It makes for an interesting piece with regard to Irish views on morality and aid to poorer countries, but as a documentary on sex tourism, it fails.
Didn’t he adopt a Nepalese boy? That certainly put him in a position of trust, when you are adopting children out to people?
He has not adopted any Nepalese boys. He said that he “informally adopted” Prem Timalsina, who is now married and has a child of his own. Prem’s father died many years ago, his mother is still alive. Prem remains on extremely good terms with O Searcaigh throughout the movie.
The other boys in the film, however, are the ones he picks up through buying things for them. But, he’s not an adoption agency. He doesn’t adopt boys out to other people.
I find that the furore surrounding this very slight documentary throws most light on the present day staus of the arist in Irish society.
One could be forgiven for thinking that over the last 10 to 15 years or so that the clergy have been replaced by artists as the spiritual and moral guardians of the island, and that they have assumed (very willingly in some cases) the pedestal hitherto reserved only for bishops, popes and saints etc. But evidently the honeymoon is over.
I suspect that before too long that artists of all ilks, and poets espeically, are going to come under a pecularly Irish scrutiny which many shall find uncomfortable. Maybe the golden age of the hoards of ard fili waxing lyrical to the mases from public platforms on matters of morality and spirituality is finally coming to a close .
Of course it is we the public who put them there in the first instaance.
But who will we get to replace them now that they’ve proved themselves all too human ? The options are running thin. Hairdressers ? Accountants ? Primary school teachers ? Journalists ? (The latter need no prompting)
Unhappy the land in need of heros etc. I cant help but think that the country is really bedevilled by the idea it has of itself as a land of saints and scholars. And neither the obviousness of the claim nor the fact that it’s a cliche lessens the fact of it. (If O’Searcaigh was a footballer would there be half the fuss ? It would be a completely different story in the media)
Finally, the whole public outcry and the very vehemence of that outcry seems to me as but the latest version of a very old Irish saga. The outcry brings to mind - in a rather shoddy fashion - the fight/argument at dinner in the early part of the Portrait of the Artist, regarding Parnell etc. Not that O’Searcaigh should be compared to Parnell,(despite what he might well say) but rather the intensity and ferocity of his defenders and detractors. A perenial ferocity reserved for saints and scholars.
“One could be forgiven for thinking that over the last 10 to 15 years or so that the clergy have been replaced by artists as the spiritual and moral guardians of the island”
I don’t know how anybody could come to that conclusion. I’ve always thought the Irish people rather intolerant of artists, until they began to be lauded in foreign countries and had some tourist value, that is.
Few people who haven’t done the Leaving Cert in recent years heard of O’Searcaigh before this, for example. I suspect a lot of artists and poets wouldn’t mind coming under public scrutiny - it would be the first time many of them had.
e50k in money raised from charitable causes in ireland is a lot of authority and sets him up as a benefactor in a position of authority and trust… that’s just for starters… he sleazier than a sex tourist because he’s not just paying for sex upfront… he has set himself up as their saviour… he has them polishing his shoes, making his bed, genuflecting at his presence… he wants their friendship and love… and ultimately their bodies… if they want to be long-term recipients for clothes, bikes, schooling they know what it is they have to do… twentymajor, inmygrumbleopinion, o’toole et al see that clear as day… it’s not that difficult to call… but some people would defend anything of this nature and pass it off as sexual morality… which i think is sad
Thing is, Ni chianain doesn’t mention the charity, nor the €50,000 in her film. Why doesn’t she talk about the charity in her film? The only charity mentioned is the one that she set up on foot of the documentary,” the Kathmandu youth awareness and counseling fund.”
Ni Chianain leaves out so much of this film - so much about O Searcaigh and the charity, about sex tourism in general in Nepal - and what she leaves in his her voiceover and poetry reading. Now. What is THAT about?
All Ni Chianain talks about is her feelings of being let down. That’s why I repeat that her film is not about sex tourism in Nepal, it’s about her own feelings towards O Searcaigh.
It goes back to the poem she reads out at the end of the movie, the broken love. I mean, is that the way to end a film about sex tourism? You’ve got to admit, it’s a bit strange, no? Also, for a movie about sex tourism, it actually states, again at the end, that O Searcaigh did not break any laws. How fucking weird is that? Here’s our awful sex tourist poet. Oh, by the way, no crimes committed.
I find it hard to believe that this type of film would be made anywhere else than in Ireland.
The movie is actually about the Irish sense of morality, and raises issues about the Irish sense of NGOs as the way to solve problems in the Third World. Both unintentional, but there you go.
You know, I’m glad Ni Chianain made this documentary. It just reminds us that it’s not just in the Catholic church mentality to sweep these issues under the carpet, it seems to be built into the Irish mentality too.
Give me someone making a documentary any day, whether right or wrong, the people will decide anyway, rather than the Ireland of old where we talk about nothing and protect morally indecent people. If it’s a choice, I choose this. And as can be seen, O Searcaigh still has his friends left, and there are those on the other side who now have the power to cross the street when they see him if they wish. Either side you choose, at least you know now the kind of man he is. And whether you see anything right or wrong with that is your own choice.
Who said anything about sweeping it under the carpet? My criticism of Ni Chianain’s documenary is the observation that she made her own feelings and reactions the centre of the story. I mean, she did nothing about sex tourism in Nepal, no wider contextualization - no even for one minute - to place O Searcaigh within the wider problem of sex tourism in Nepal. All she said was, here’s this immoral poet and, well, I’m disgusted. And that it! She ends her film with a poem about broken love, and a note saying that O Searcaign didn’t sleep with anyone under the age of consent.
Since making the film, though, Ni Chianain and her supporters have reacted to ANY criticism of the film as a defense of O Searcaigh.
That’s just daft.
She made a film, she purports to call it a documentary, but when it is analyzed as such, it is found to be wanting.
“Also, for a movie about sex tourism, it actually states, again at the end, that O Searcaigh did not break any laws. ”
Umm, the point about sex tourism is that the offenders aren’t necessarily break local laws. If O’Searcaigh was paying 15-year-old girls in Thailand for sex, would this be morally OK with you as long as he wasn’t breaking any laws there?
P.
What a dumb question.
How about this? How about we talk about the documentary, instead of inventing new ones. If that’s too difficult for you, no problem, I understand. I mean, it´s Ni Chianain who states O Searcaigh didn’t break any laws, not me.
However, if you want to invent documentaries, how about one where a woman goes to England for an abortion. It’s legal there, illegal here. What’s your moral stance on that one?
Abortion is legal in Ireland if there is a risk to the life of the woman. A provision exists in the Irish constitution to allow Dáil Éireann to legislate on this, however no political party has risked it, and in the meantime, while it is legal in theory, the body that holds medical licences in Ireland considers it malpractice for any doctor to perform an abortion.
I think the supporters of O’Searcaigh should finance a middle-aged Nepalese man on his travels around Ireland, and have him meet young men or young girls for tête-à-têtes in his B&B.
That is just bizzare. But ok, whatever makes you happy.
Because abortion is legal in Nepal. The first government hospital offering free abortions opened in 2002 and large numbers of women are seeking out the service.
And this middle-aged Nepalese could maybe educate our young people, our future legislators after all, on formulating laws on abortion.