The Human Disappointment: How a Towering Legend Turned Into Just Another 'Mongol'

| 11 Nov 2014 | 02:01

    Sergei Bodrov’s Oscar-nominated [Mongol] is a middling attempt to humanize the mythic by establishing Ghenghis Khan (the versatile Tadanobu Asano) as a macho patriot. He firmly believes in Mongolian customs, in the power of traditon and that the Mongolian language is the most beautiful language of all. Strangely enough, he proclaims this to his young daughter just before he teaches her the Mongolian word for “meat” (phonetically pronounced “mach”), an unbearably exquisite word that just rolls off his tongue.

    Sadly, his blunt sense of nationalism goes from being quaint to tiresome incredibly quickly. Bodrov peppers his script with instances where his characters insist on definitive Mongolian traits. The number of times Temudgin, who would later become the mighty Khan or someone surrounding him starts a sentence with “Mongols (inset verb here)” to justify fighting, pursuing women or the importance of horses—“You need a horse more than a woman,” he is advised—is virtually limitless.

    None of these declarative statements shed any real light on uniquely Mongolian character, except to say that they’re like Asian cowboys. Temudgin’s like the Mongolian answer to Shane except wielding a blade instead of a colt. He hates being cooped up—as a nameless old monk says: “Mongols die in cages”—he only follows those he respects—“Mongols change their master when they want to,” Temudgin explains to his blood brother Jamukha (Honglei Sun) after inexplicably walking off with half of his men—and as much as he wants to be alone, he can’t survive without re-entering society every now and then—“You don’t know Mongols. You won’t survive on your own” Jamukha tells Temudgin after he decides to pursue his kidnapped wife Borte (Khulan Chuluun) alone.

    Temudgin is, however, the most chivalric Mongol in the film, making his quest to be with Borte the main reason for his unification of the Mongolians. He repeatedly goes against the grain to pursue her, even though, according to Jamukha, “Mongols don’t make war over a woman.” He wages war on anyone that would stand between them and, in the process, ends up unifying all the warring tribes under his banner.

    Ironically, that privilege of cultural unity is apparently reserved for just the Mongolians on his side. After all, he spills plenty of blood to get Borte back from the Merkit tribe. Wife-swapping is apparently a no-no amongst Mongols, even if they take better care of their horses. In fact, a minor war is triggered after a bunch Temudgin’s men kills Jamuhka’s biological brother Taichar (Bu Ren). It’s an acceptable casualty though, as one says: “You saved the horses but brought us war,” an admonition which becomes a slap on the wrist after Temudgin silently assents to go to war with Jamukha as a consequence.

    According to Temudgin, Mongols are entitled to do whatever they please. They are a noble people that will only respect those that deserve respect. It’s a lesson he learns as a ten year-old after he chooses Borte for his bride instead of a Merkit woman, a decision that has dire consequences for his father Esugei (Ba Sen), the Khan at the moment.

    We’re expected to accept Temudgin as a noble savage, a nationalistic caveman that wages war against anyone that would threaten his people’s autonomy. As he walks away with Jamukha’s troops, he defends their departure as a human rights issue. “Mongols have the right to choose,” he says, recalling all the people he conquered later on and gave a choice to at swordpoint. 

    Bodrov presents Temudgin as a man of the people but he makes his people look like warlike primitives with admirable but crude beliefs. Temudgin worships Tengri, the God of the Blue Sky, a notion turned into a charming mystic ritual where he prays to a wolf that rains down lightning when He’s upset. “Lightning means our God Tengri is angry. All Mongols fear it,” Esugei says, as if to explain to the audience how ass backwards these poor ooga-booga types really are. It might be possible to take the anecdote for a myth if Bodrov didn’t insist on turning the legendary Genghis Khan into Temudgin, the human disappointment.