In director Jean-Jacques Annaud's adaptation of Heinrich Harrer's memoir of the same title, not-very-nice, self-centered Austrian Nazi Brad Pitt goes to the Himalayas to climb mountains and returns home a changed man after meeting the young Dalai Lama. Annaud has given Seven Years In Tibet an epic scope, packed with beautiful scenery, lush costumes, and elaborate sets. Which would all be well and good if they didn't often seem like the reason the movie exists. It's too bad, too, because it's in its most intimate scenes that Seven Years In Tibet works best. The interaction between Pitt and Jamyang Jamtsho Wangchuk, who plays the Dalai Lama for the bulk of the film, is charming, and the scenes exploring the cultural differences between Tibet and Communist China ring true. There's simply not enough of this, however, and, while not a bad film, Seven Years In Tibet suffers under the weight of its depthless spectacle.