Öndög, 2019.
Directed by Wang Quan’an.
Starring Dulamjav Enkhtaivan, Aorigeletu, Norovsambuu Batmunkh, and Gangtemuer Arild.
SYNOPSIS:
A murder case in the Mongolian steppe. A herder is asked to guard the crime scene – a woman who resolutely scares off both wolves and her neighbor. She has her own plans for the future, which are closely linked to the myths of her homeland.
The latest feature from Chinese filmmaker Wang Quan’an (Tuya’s Marriage) – touted as “based on true stories” in its closing title – presents a seemingly authentic cross-section of lives both ending and beginning, though demands enormous patience from audiences to make it to the end in tact.
Quan’an’s film opens with a terrific POV shot of a car driving through a beautiful dusky meadow, before the drivers come across the corpse of a young woman in their midst. The next morning, a young cop (Norovsambuu Batmunkh) is tasked with guarding the body, while occasionally aided by a rifle-roting herdswoman (Dulamjav Enkhtaivan).
These early opening passages near-instantly remind one of Taylor Sheridan’s chilly recent thriller Wind River, albeit down-cranked to a far slower clip. Indeed, Öndög is sparse and slow, with the first half in particular jam-packed with locked-off, horizon-spanning master shots that capture the listless mundanity of police procedure – while ultimately proving somewhat listless themselves.
Quan’an’s airless approach sadly doesn’t always translate wholesale to atmosphere, and even at a reasonable 97 minutes, his film has a tendency to feel like a slog. Following a rookie cop presiding over a dead body isn’t an inherently bad idea for a movie, but it needs to be populated with additional interest. However, between the lack of info re: the focal crime and the lack of intriguing characterisation, compelling drama is in desperately short supply.
Flecks of wry humour do eventually abound, though; the rookie staves off boredom by dancing to Mongolian power metal and, later on, Elvis’ “Love Me Tender” as the sky darkens around him. Even these beats end up outstaying their welcome though, with the prolonged, static images leaving all but the most studious viewers keen to move on.
The nascent relationship drama between the rookie and the herdswoman has potential, both as romance and coming-of-age story, and as this takes precedent in the film’s second half the initially detached approach mercifully begins to melt away. But the spareness still challenges, denying much of the expected emotion and ensuring the pic never feels anything more than pretty yet stodgy.
Case in point, Aymerick Pilarski’s stately cinematography captures Mongolia’s natural beauty splendidly, especially as night draws in, accentuating the film’s overall convincing slice-of-life feel. Holding the characters at arm’s length from the audience for so much of the movie feels like a directorial misstep, but the integrity of the images themselves are never in doubt.
If you’re especially interested in Mongolian culture and desire a sharply-lensed window into that world, Öndög may do the solid job, but for many if not most, it’s an exercise in endurance. Authentically drawn and visually stunning, yet the glacial pacing may test even hardened cineastes.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★
Shaun Munro – Follow me on Twitter for more film rambling.
