MongolReview by Brandon Fibbs |
posted 6/06/2008
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Genghis Khan (meaning "universal ruler") was the title given to the Mongol warrior Temujin, a 13th century tribal chief who echoed the accomplishments of Alexander the Great and founded an empire that swept across Central Asia, China, Russia, the Middle East and even Eastern Europe. Employing audacious battle strategies and novel cavalry tactics, he earned a reputation in history as both a brutal warmonger and a munificent administrator, subjugating millions while also expanding Mongol culture. His empire lasted more than 150 years after his death, and although the following centuries saw a decline in his empire, his last ruling descendent wasn't deposed until early in the 20th century by Soviet forces.
Odnyam Odsuren as the young Temujin
Genghis Khan is one of those historical characters whose colorful exploits capture one's imagination, especially that of boys. Award-winning Russian filmmaker Sergei Bodrov must have been one of those enchanted youngsters. His Mongol, which received an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Film last year, is a vivid historical epic illuminating the life of Genghis Khan, attempting to separate the man from the mythology. The film succeeds as spectacularly as it fails, extrapolating a reasonable narrative from the sketchy details of Temujin's early life while also completely ignoring the very things that made him so memorable.
Mongol begins with a nine-year-old boy whose father is taking him to visit a nearby encampment in order that the child might choose a wife. The young Temujin (Odnyam Odsuren) shows great political instinct and ruthless intuition, even as a youngster, going against his father's wishes and choosing a headstrong girl who, unbeknownst to him at the time, will become his most devoted ally and trusted advisor. It is to be Temujin's last moment of bliss for a very long time.
Tadanobu Asano as Genghis Khan
His father murdered by a rival nomadic tribe and his own right of succession spurned by countrymen who refuse to bow to so young a ruler, Temujin must flee for his life, hunted and enslaved across the years until he eventually returns home to claim what is rightfully his—his tribe, his wife and his honor—with the undeniable visage of a man (now played by Japan's Tadanobu Asano). But destiny will not allow his rise to be an easy one. Temujin must fight, often gorily, for each and every victory. In the course of events, Jamukha (Honglei Sun), his dearest and oldest friend, becomes his deadliest enemy, clashing with his blood brother over dominance as Temujin imposes the rule of law on the wanton tribes of the Mongol lands.
Mongol is a Far East Braveheart, charged with the same sense of pseudo-history, movie heroics and inspirational grandeur. It won't revolutionize the costume drama, but it does an impressive job of transporting us back to a distant land and exotic period in world history.
The film makes the most of its gorgeous (if much maligned, thanks to Borat) Kazakhstan setting, filling the screen with beautiful, painterly vistas that lend a real sense of the epic to the production. And they should—the film is shot in the terrain where the real action took place. Only at the end, during a mighty clash of armies, does the film lean on CG to beef up the natural world. It's an unfortunate choice, given Mongol's comfort level with reproducing as much of 12th century milieu as possible with practical effects. Still, the CG is phenomenal, and the tidal waves of men and horses are appropriately terrifying.
Khulan Chuluun as Börte, Khan's wife
The film doesn't rush into the violence (it doesn't rush into anything) but certainly isn't squeamish about splashing around in the gore once it gets around to it. Unlike the bloodless confrontations of Prince Caspian, death by sword in Mongol is appropriately messy, even if it is sensationalized for an increasingly bloodthirsty viewing culture.
No one can truly know what kind of man Genghis Khan was, but director Bodrov seems to take great lengths trouncing current historical interpretations. His Khan is not the monster some have made him out to be; instead, his protagonist is a man of compassion, fierce loyalty, spousal devotion and unashamed selflessness, a man who fights only when pushed into a corner. He is tough but not fierce, formidable but not despotic. He is a new kind of Khan and man, the film seems to suggest—someone so singularly devoted to his bride and family that he will even take as his own those children his wife bore from rape.