A cinematic take on Greek-Armenian/Russian mystic Gurdjieff's (unreliable) autobiography of the same name. Adapted by chief disciple/gatekeeper Jeanne de Salzmann with director Peter Brook. There's some good material, like the ceremony shot in Afghanistan that opens proceedings, but it's poorly assembled. Prompted by having bought a copy of The Moon of Hoa Binh (1994) from New Age/explorer providors Bennett Books in 2015. Also some Terence Stamp completism: he plays Russian Prince Lubovedsky with solemn leaden gravitas. Dragan Maksimovic leads as Gurdjieff. The soundtrack is intriguing.
As always with these things it's hard to get too excited by the gnomic mysticism on show; it's unclear what was sought, what was found and what was confected. As near as we get to a philosophy involves generic transcendentalism alloyed with some received wisdom about movement from the possibly-existing Sarmoung Brotherhood of Sufis. (These guys are supposed to reside in Kafiristan, the same setting as Kipling's The Man Who Would Be King (1975).) But surely the journey is the point, the intriguing esotericism merely the vehicle; conspiracy theories from a more spiritually-expansive time. Notionally there's some science in there but I did not recognise any; perhaps someone meant the enneagram and associated numerology.
I won't attempt to read the source book (Goodreads) but I strongly suspect that T. E. Lawrence's roughly contemporaneous autobiography (~1922) has more worthwhile things to say. The supplemental literature (abidingly written!) appears to be similarly opaque and often plays like soap opera and yak shaving.
Janet Maslin: Brook has no interest in continuity. Lifeless until the sacred dances towards the end. (I get the impression that learning these movements is pay-to-play.) Wikipedia. The young Gurdjieff (Mikica Dimitrijevic) does radiate that spiritual thirst but it's so hard now to discern it from the omnipresent existential angst.
