Windswept. Heightened. Fantastic. I can’t imagine this was Powell and Pressburger’s intent, (considering the brown face and rampant racism) but I felt like I understood this film best when I looked at through the lens of how colonialism reeks havoc on the soul, specifically. Of course colonialism destroys culturally, geographically, the list goes forever on. But if you try to attempt a sort of order and strict dogmatism on the soul and spirit, there are so many nuances, memories, feelings that can hardly be accounted for fall through the cracks and eventually build up and overflow, out of control. 
Maybe some of the best cinematography I’ve ever seen. Certainly in my top 10 for best cinematography (Jack Cardiff supremacy). Of course it’s hard to go wrong with the Himalayas, and white clothes always billowing in the wind. But every moment, every shadow is so feels perfectly attuned to the story and the emotional state of each character. "There's something in the atmosphere that makes everything seem... exaggerated." I think the cinematography might be the reason I wouldn’t qualify this as a melodrama, as all the sensations and possession (in the final act in particular) feel like the most inevitable outcome.