How much board could a Mongol hoard if a Mongol horde got bored? — Mongol opens Friday
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While revered as a military mastermind whose empire stretched farther than any other, Genghis Khan’s glory is tinged with the blood of many. Despite the well-worn militaristic notion of cracking some eggs to make a fine omelet, Khan’s pursuit and capture of lands stretching across Asia and parts of Russia — held up by some as proof of true leadership — has been derided by others as the wrath of a tyrant. Sergei Bodrov’s Academy Award-nominated Mongol sides with the former camp, portraying Khan’s rise to power as one driven by two things — the desire to unite the disparate clans and troops of nomadic Asia and Russia, and his undying love for his wife Börte.
Upon first setting eyes on each other, the young Temudjin (the future Genghis Khan, played as a child by Odnyam Odsuren) and Börte (Bayertsetseg Erdenebat) know they are meant to be together. Börte’s later kidnapping by the Merkit clan (in terrifying fur face-masks) results in a full-scale war led by the now adult Temudjin (Tadanobu Asano) and his blood brother Jamukha (Honglei Sun). While the attack on the Merkits to rescue Börte (played as an adult by Khulan Chuluun) is certainly historically accurate, Mongol’s portrayal of the pair as the dream couple of the late 1100s leaves out any mention of the later Khan’s many wives and the many children he fathered with other women during their marriage. Granted, such arrangements were common at the time, but Mongol’s love story plays as hollow given even the most cursory of historical research.
Where Mongol stumbles most, however, is in its reliance on mystical shortcuts. The young Temudjin’s escape from a neighbouring tribe features a confusing series of shots and slow fades in which the boy’s shackles seemingly undo themselves after a visit to a holy shrine to the god Tengri (or maybe it was the wolf prowling around in slow motion and later worn as a winter scarf who set him free). During one of the film’s climactic battles between Temudjin and Jamukha, best friends turned enemies in a mutual quest for control over the Mongols, a lightning storm sends Jamukha’s troops running in fear. Temudjin advances forward and… another slow fade ends the sequence in true anticlimax. The beloved god Tengri, throwing angry lightning bolts, has come to the rescue again!
That’s not to say there aren’t plenty of 300-style bloodbaths in the movie. In the world of Mongol, blood sprays out of sword wounds, and spikes and arrows burst through bodies. (Thankfully, the music avoids nu-metal crunch, at least until the closing credits erupt in ill-fitting guitar riffage.) Temudjin’s hope of uniting the Mongols — “even if I have to kill half of them” — is met with anthemic pomp and loving close-ups. Mongol’s scenes of war carry the gravity of a video game — the death toll climbs without a second look.
It’s impossible to downplay Genghis Khan’s role in world history, but as with all figures of his standing, power and controversial reputation, one would hope that filmmakers taking on his story would aim for a more accurate portrayal of the man and his accomplishments. As a surprisingly rare cinematic subject (one can safely bet that Bodrov’s take on the tale is somewhat more genuine than 1956’s The Conqueror, starring John Wayne as Temudjin and Susan Hayward as Börte), Mongol had the chance to present the incredible true tale of an ordinary man accomplishing extraordinary feats of military intelligence. Instead, Mongol is little more than a formulaic soap opera — a bloody, sweepingly epic and beautifully shot soap opera.
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