Mongol

Directed By: Sergei Bodrov

Review By Roberto Azula

An certain, undeniable giddiness pervades Mongol. This excitement is primordial, one that we city dwellers have long buried in our sedentary, cement based lives. Sergei Bodrov’s Mongol revives that long slumbering love of wide-open spaces and unbridled freedom. Though this flawed epic does stumble with several arbitrary scene transitions, the sheer joy and grit of Mongol will stir the wild nomad in all of us.

I’m no expert on the pastoral customs of the Mongol nomad, but this film just feels authentic with its intimate shots of daily life on the steppes. The opening scene infuses the film with a surprising amount of warmth, given the subject. Nine-year-old Temudgin (the once and future Genghis Khan) engages in the curious custom of choosing a bride at such a tender age. Ten-year-old Borte insists that he choose her. And so begins one of those couples-torn-apart epics. Borte is no Gloria Steinman, but there is a feminist spirit to the opening, and Temudgin and Borte eventually create a cooperative marriage.

This feminist tone is admittedly disingenuous; Borte eventually decides sell herself to break her man out of jail, and in the film’s most improbable scene, she helps Temudgin escape with only her knife and good looks. Still, it’s refreshing that Borte is not portrayed as some harridan or Lady Macbeth, but rather as Tedmudgin’s source of inspiration, strength, and council. Another key to this film’s warmth is the fact that though Borte’s two children had different fathers, Temudgin accepts both children as his own. The portrayal of the Khan and his happy family is of course idealistic, but there is a rather progressive nature to it, at least compared to the hate-filled “Family Values” interpretation of how a family should be. But is this the real Genghis Khan? Of course not, but Mongol is not an attempt to portray the real Temudgin, nor does it ever pretend to be. This is pure fantasy, and if Bodrov wishes to infuse his film with a progressive agenda, I have no problem with that.

Temudgin is played by Japanese actor Tadanobu Asano, and his main rival Jamukha is played by Chinese actor Sun Honglei, so I am not entirely sure if they were speaking in Mongolian. (The rest of the cast is Mongolian, and they are definitely speaking their mother tongue). Still, Asano and Sun put in some great performances and anchor the film well. The battle scenes are powerful for their brevity; there are no long, drawn out fight scenes that glorify war. The horse wrangling throughout this film is astonishing, and the press release insists no horses were harmed in the production. I can only hope that was the case. The cinematography is also stunning; I wouldn’t be surprised if tourism in Mongolia skyrockets after moviegoers immerse themselves in Mongol’s postcard perfect vistas. Another strength of the film is the bracing, hard-charging music, which features Mongolian-laced genres of folk and hard rock.

But for its cheery disposition and winnable characters, there is a certain distance to Mongol, and I have to wonder if this was not deliberate. Genghis Khan’s early life was a mystery, and though this film tries to imagine some of the historical gaps, it skips over significant portions of his life. You never get a sense of how Temudgin became such a mighty warrior, or how he assumed his position of authority. But I’m just grateful Temudgin did not give any idiotic “We fight for freedom” speeches, nor does this film degenerate into some jingoistic interpretation of democracy, as might have happened in the hands of some dimwitted American director. Still, I can’t help but wonder how most of these war epics never really take into account why men throw themselves to their death to play out the power struggles of their chieftains. A lot is taken for granted in Mongol, and that is why this is a good, but not great film. But Mongol is filled with such a sense of fun and earnestness that I let the numerous implausible scenes and unanswered questions slide past me.