That film is “Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet,” based on the book of the same name by the late Lebanese-American writer-poet. If you’ve not heard of the book, ask any baby boomers you know — they probably have a copy of the best-seller, a book of 26 prose poems that’s not been out of print since 1923. Heck, Kelly Ripa recently intoned that her husband gave her a copy as a gift on their wedding day. Elvis Presley was known to make a present of the book at Christmastime to those he held near and dear.
And then there is actress-producer Salma Hayek Pinault, who is such a fan, she spent the past decade bringing the beloved tome to the big screen.
The result is an enchanting film, a 85-minute-long journey into the spirit. Some might shake their heads at the lofty concept, and on some levels they are correct. The film is not perfect; its message at times gets lost in its “pearls of wisdom” approach. But overall, there is a soothing quality to it, with Gibran’s words resonating on some level to those who are willing to listen.
The film’s elaborate watercolor hues are sumptuous, whisking us off to ponder the meaning of love, good and evil, work, eating and drinking, children, freedom, death and marriage. The animation, by a collection of gifted artists (including Joan C. Gratz, Tomm Moore, Joann Sfarr, Bill Plympton and Michal Socha, among others), is flat when compared with today’s ridiculously intense processes. Still, the eight independently produced vignettes, culled from Gibran’s larger work and strung together by director Roger Allers to create a storyline where there was none, are an entertaining lot.
Liam Neeson soothingly voices the Middle-Eastern poet, Mustafa, a Christ-like prophet imprisoned on a fictional Mediterranean island for seven years because his work is viewed as sedition. He is suddenly freed, and must make his way down through the village to a docked ship that promises transport back to his homeland. Sadly, Mustafa soon learns freedom’s price is the betrayal of all his convictions. It is a price he cannot pay.
Mustafa is joined on his trek through town by the tiny Almitra (voiced by Quvenzhané Wallis), a village girl who has not spoken since the death of her father years earlier. Her working mom, the loving and sexy Kamila (voiced by Hayek) has her hands full with the ingenious little daydreaming girl, who has become the village ne’er-do-well, though it’s clear from the start it’s all a facade. The goofy prison guard Halim (voiced by John Krasinski) accompanies the troupe, as much for his love of Kamila as for his duty to accompany the prisoner under the watchful eye of the Sergeant (voiced by Alfred Molina).
As Mustafa relates his wisdom to the townsfolk, each vignette is played out in a dreamlike sequence, each in a different artistic style, which some might find annoying. I did not. The wisdom of the words will either enchant or repel, depending on your age and willingness to just go with the flow amid Gabriel Yared’s graceful score, aided by Yo-Yo Ma’s profound cello solos.
At one point, Mustafa tells little Almitra: “You can only be free when you no longer speak of freedom as a goal.”
How fitting for our troubled times.
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