Malcolm Leigh's documentary of Hindu ritual was made under the auspices of the Philadelphia Museum of Art to accompany an exhibit of the same title. How well it "reflects" and "explores" the Hindu precepts sketched out in a terse verbal prologue is hard for the outsider to know. But he can nonetheless be excited by the cinematic high-wire act, sans net, of dispensing with any further narration and saying so outright. It isn't that further elucidation wouldn't have been beneficial. Yet what might not be perfectly understandable need not be dull. Obviously. There is suspense here, in the sand painting slowly taking shape, in the preparations for the dance, and in the two unprepossessing dancers transforming themselves into porcelain dolls. And there is sensuousness, too, with the preternatural sharpness and richness of the images, much beyond the budget capabilities of most documentaries, and with a special appreciation for bodies, skin, gesture. If one often feels like a bit of a tourist, and a tourist for that matter who ought to have done more reading-up before setting out, one nonetheless can feel like a tourist who has been directed by a trustworthy guide to significant and fascinating sights. (1980) — Duncan Shepherd
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