Khadak
Directed by Peter Brosens & Jessica Hope Woodworth
A gorgeous panoply of natural wonders and far-flung mysticism, the Mongolian-made drama Khadak is a unique adventure. Despite sustaining the narrative with an abstract hook, the story works on a simplistic level. Its hero, a young shepherd named Bagi (Batul Khayankhyarvaa) follows a classic trajectory, awakening to civil duty when his nomadic community is threatened by heartlessly bureaucratic developers. But Bagi’s ability to rescue the old way of life comes less from grassroots activism than his apparent shamanistic powers. Like Neo from the Matrix franchise, he’s the One—although you’ll find no gravity-defying bullet-dodging here. The magical strengths are revealed with subtle expressionism, as though the conceits of an action film were softened to the gentle volume of Chinese Whispers.
From Robert Flaherty to Werner Herzog, documentarians have strived to portray locations around the globe as wholly distinct and secure in their independence. The last Mongolian production to gain a decent audience in the United States, the 2003 Oscar-nominated parable The Story of the Weeping Camel, portrayed a basic nomadic family in a consistently gripping documentary style that used ongoing naturalism to convey the sense of truly being there. At times, Khadak also becomes an anthropological text, which makes sense since its directors, Peter Brosens and Jessica Woodworth, both have backgrounds in Mongolian-based documentary productions. Yet they manage to build on the immersive desert locale with the nearly wordless plot, filtering visual splendor through a particularly solipsistic type of mythology. The filmmakers capitalize on the poetic quality of the movie’s storybook images, but they don’t fetishize the culture; rather, they view it through an honest lens by taking the superstitious elements at face value.
Even as a shaman, Bagi’s struggle to salvage his old world proves to be a near-impossible task, one much larger than his own world can comprehend. An early scene shows an old, harmless settlement getting bombed to bits, providing an ironic device not unlike the mushroom clouds at the conclusion of Dr. Strangelove. But Khadak avoids satire and anti-industrial cynicism, instead serving up a fantastic juxtaposition. The images continually contrast pristine landscapes and urban chaos without forcing an uncomplicated resolution.
In an extended turning point, Bagi visits a “possible future” where he learns that “the desert always wins,” revealing the movie’s overarching theme of nature’s supremacy. There might be nothing remotely Western about the sights and sounds in Khadak, but its notions about the risks of technological progress are undeniably universal.
Directed by Peter Brosens & Jessica Hope Woodworth
A gorgeous panoply of natural wonders and far-flung mysticism, the Mongolian-made drama Khadak is a unique adventure. Despite sustaining the narrative with an abstract hook, the story works on a simplistic level. Its hero, a young shepherd named Bagi (Batul Khayankhyarvaa) follows a classic trajectory, awakening to civil duty when his nomadic community is threatened by heartlessly bureaucratic developers. But Bagi’s ability to rescue the old way of life comes less from grassroots activism than his apparent shamanistic powers. Like Neo from the Matrix franchise, he’s the One—although you’ll find no gravity-defying bullet-dodging here. The magical strengths are revealed with subtle expressionism, as though the conceits of an action film were softened to the gentle volume of Chinese Whispers.
From Robert Flaherty to Werner Herzog, documentarians have strived to portray locations around the globe as wholly distinct and secure in their independence. The last Mongolian production to gain a decent audience in the United States, the 2003 Oscar-nominated parable The Story of the Weeping Camel, portrayed a basic nomadic family in a consistently gripping documentary style that used ongoing naturalism to convey the sense of truly being there. At times, Khadak also becomes an anthropological text, which makes sense since its directors, Peter Brosens and Jessica Woodworth, both have backgrounds in Mongolian-based documentary productions. Yet they manage to build on the immersive desert locale with the nearly wordless plot, filtering visual splendor through a particularly solipsistic type of mythology. The filmmakers capitalize on the poetic quality of the movie’s storybook images, but they don’t fetishize the culture; rather, they view it through an honest lens by taking the superstitious elements at face value.
Even as a shaman, Bagi’s struggle to salvage his old world proves to be a near-impossible task, one much larger than his own world can comprehend. An early scene shows an old, harmless settlement getting bombed to bits, providing an ironic device not unlike the mushroom clouds at the conclusion of Dr. Strangelove. But Khadak avoids satire and anti-industrial cynicism, instead serving up a fantastic juxtaposition. The images continually contrast pristine landscapes and urban chaos without forcing an uncomplicated resolution.
In an extended turning point, Bagi visits a “possible future” where he learns that “the desert always wins,” revealing the movie’s overarching theme of nature’s supremacy. There might be nothing remotely Western about the sights and sounds in Khadak, but its notions about the risks of technological progress are undeniably universal.
