Occasionally, you come across a truly amazing film that will not allow itself to be lumped into a "Pictures from everywhere" compilation, but stands up and cries out for a post of its own.

This is one such, and my appreciation (our appreciation, actually, because Nigel loved it first, and directed me towards it) is even more remarkable given that we watched it miles up in the air en route from Fukuoka to Singapore. Of course, you could point out that our being miles up in the air in a carbon-emitting mega-menace is intimately connected with the plight of the snow leopard, and that would be true. But my point is that flights are unpropitious backdrops for watching serious movies, and it's a testimony to just how good this one was that both of us stayed enthralled -- despite interruptions for announcements, turbulence, refreshments, and so on.

The film I'm talking about is La panthere des neiges. Anyone with even the most modest smattering of French can see this title means The Snow Leopard, but it has been rendered in English, for some bizarre reason, as The Velvet Queen. It came out in 2021, and it was made by Marie Amiguet and Vincent Munier.

It features this same Vincent Munier (a nature photographer), and his companion, Sylvain Tesson (an adventurer and writer). Having already gathered a lot of photographic material in the mountains of eastern Tibet, Munier invited Tesson to return to the area with him, in the hope of capturing further images of the elusive snow leopard. Initially, the aim was for Tesson to write the text to accompany the book of photos he planned to produce. But the project grew. Tesson wrote a book about his experiences, and the film is an adaptation of that book (which, of course, I now want to read...)

It was quite an undertaking. We're talking about elevations of 4,500-6,000 metres, and temperatures generally less than minus 20. Altogether, the film-makers made eight journeys, of which two involved shooting footage. They deliberately tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, using a small team, and the minimum of material.


Our fabulous Tibet odyssey, 2018



Visually, this is a quite stunning film. I loved the combination of movie and stills. I loved the willingness to linger: To focus on evolving patterns, for example -- swirling dust, swirling groups of animals, drifting snow, the clouds of vapour emerging from the mouths of animals; or to allow a group of animals to form in the picture and march across it (like a line of writing, as someone says at one point); or to watch as snow or darkness drains the colour from everything.

Animals on the skyline form another motif. Backlit. And yaks. I always loved yaks. That shot of the yak front-on... You can see how legends of the yeti start... And whether it's a little rodent or a little tweety-bird, you marvel at the sheer fluffiness of things in that environment...

Then there's the snow leopard itself... Indescribable... First there is the amusing bit where Munier tells us he once didn't realize he'd photographed the prestigious cat. He thought he was photographing a falcon, and it was only when he developed the picture that he realized a snow leopard had been there all the time, staring at him... Even when I'd been told the leopard was there, I couldn't see it in the picture at first...

Then they capture an image of a snow leopard on the automatic camera they have planted. And finally they get "live" footage. Magical... Those huge feet. That thick tail. That wonderful pelt. That incredible gracefulness.





All this is made possible by the technique of the lookout (l'affut), which -- as the narrator says -- is both Munier's aesthetic and his philosophy. You use camouflage, you hunker down, you wait, you hope... You adapt to the pace of your surroundings. And you exercise patience, "the most elegant of virtues". As Tesson says in the voice-over, "Waiting was a prayer." And if nothing comes, you just haven't looked properly.

Complementing the images are the deep strings, haunting woodwind, and gentle but persistent rhythms of the score and songs of Warren Ellis and Nick Cave (a fascinating character in his own right, who has also written a book that I want to read).

As the movie progresses, we become increasingly aware that whereas we don't always see the animals, they, on the contrary, are always watching us. This becomes the motif of the film. Faces, turned towards the camera -- towards us. Alert, suspicious, curious.

This is well articulated by one of Cave's songs:

This world has ears and rocks have eyes
Nature loves to hide
The world is a bush full of fiery eyes
Nature loves to hide...

I've travelled a lot unaware
I was observed...

We are not alone...
We don't see them...
We are not alone...





Also fascinating was the relationship that developed between the two men. Munier is absolutely part of the landscape, although always regretting he is not more so. He is unhappy in cities. And he is conscious that humans are so very weak and vulnerable; they have lost all the powers and skills that enable animals to survive. This ability to swap viewpoints reminded me of Montaigne.

I can't remember which of them talked about the Golden Age, when animals, humans, and gods could communicate, but that thought very much resonates with me. There's this inherited nostalgia in the human soul for something none of us individually has ever experienced.

Tesson is a learner. Learning patience, learning the skills, learning the mindset. As he admits, he was the traveller who always kept moving, and never stopped to look, but Munier, he says, taught him to read for the second time in his life.

He looks and sounds uncomfortable sometimes. Out of his element. But he learns massively. He wants to understand what drives Munier, and wonders if the vastness of nature ever freaks him out. Munier can't really fathom the question.

So, as he follows in Munier's footsteps, we are led into his questioning: "How do we capture the way of life of a man who blends into the wild so harmoniously? What is our place among other living beings? What resources can we draw on during the icy hours spent at the lookout? The camera is trained on a face hollowed out with perplexity, and Sylvain Tesson, struggling with heated socks and learning to follow tracks, sometimes diverges into a kind of endearing self-mockery, aware of his efforts to adapt to an exceptional adventure that really requires 'a hell of an inner life'."

In the end, Tesson comes up with a few simple precepts: Don't expect. Wait. Delight in whatever it is you find. Protect it.

Of course, the themes -- both the quest for the snow leopard and the relationship between the two travellers -- are reminiscent of Peter Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard (the subject of The Velvet Cushion's very first post). But there is something splendidly unique about this film. I would definitely take the first opportunity to watch it again.


The sublime...


The ridiculous