Early on in writer-director Yujiro Seki’s Carving the Divine, it’s said that the life of a Busshi woodcarver is arduous. Even as an apprentice, there is little guidance and a surfeit of reprimand from the master carver. But inside of that introduction lies a latent cinematic hook. Once a completed statue is shown, arresting in its detail and elegance, the viewer is immediately invested in the process and the people who can create such works.
The documentary is a peek behind the curtain at the daily life of the modern Busshi. A Busshi practices the 1400-year-old craft of Buddhist woodcarving. Koun Seki, a Busshi master who was once the apprentice of a now aging but still renowned grandmaster, has taken up several apprentices of his own. He spends his days instructing the rigorous and largely ascetic Busshi lifestyle.
Foremost, Carving the Divine has a strikingly quiet demeanor. The naturalistic audio helps convey the essential solitude of the craft, highlighting that the life of a Busshi is not glamorous. This is married with intimate, often vulnerable camerawork that shows several aspects of not only the master but the many apprentices and the greater woodcarving guild they inhabit. Combined, it all serves to illuminate the deep and wonderfully human core.

“…the daily life of the modern Busshi.”
Moreover, the congruence of the difficult woodcarving process and the audiovisual aspects emphasize one of the central themes: time. Apprentices, many of them teenagers, must dedicate at least three years of their life to the craft (that is, if they don’t quit first), and many stay on longer to hone their skills. Viewers truly experience just how important an awareness of time is to a Busshi. Even more impressively, the theme of time is inlaid into a larger consideration of how important time is to the entirety of Japanese culture.
However, in its efforts to be comprehensive, Carving the Divine often retreads ground. While the necessary rigor required is apparent early on, the context in which the art form exists in modern Japan is scarcely touched upon. In particular, comparing the bygone and the current Japan would have created a much more integrated story. Additionally, a fuller comparison between the Japanese mindset and those in the West would establish a more excellent portrait of cultural eras.
Even still, Carving the Divine contains enough heart that its missed potential does not fundamentally hamper the experience. With grace, Seki can showcase the emotional skills most important to the Busshi: discipline and patience. The documentary closes by focusing on Grandmaster Kourin Saito, a man said to be able to carve from dusk till dawn without a break in days. His sentiment on his chosen vocation sums up everything sublimely: “I’ll live my final years to the fullest so that I can leave great works behind. And leave no regrets.”