‘To Kill A Mongolian Horse’: Busan Review

Dir/scr: Jiang Xiaoxuan. Malaysia/Hong Kong/South Korea/Japan/Saudi Arabia/Thailand/US. 2024. 98mins

Everything in To Kill A Mongolian Horse signals the end of an era. Jiang Xiaoxuan’s elegiac first feature tells the story of an Inner Mongolian herdsman and how an ever changing world makes it impossible to sustain his traditional way of life. The film comes to Busan having earned Venice Film Festival’s Authors Under 40 Award for best directing and screenwriting, and there could be specialist potential in this touching human tale.

Jiang’s film is immersed in the testing landscapes and traditions of Mongolia

Jiang met herdsman Saina while scouting locations for her short film Graveyard Of Horses (2022), on which he became production manager. Observing the challenges and changes he faced inspired her to create a fictionalised version of his life, with Saina playing himself and a non-professional cast as other significant characters. The Saina we see here augments his herdsman income by appearing in a show that has packaged Mongolia’s past for the delight of tourists. Taping up any injuries, he rides around an arena displaying his horsemanship and athleticism. “Brave Mongolian warriors return victorious!” a voice announces as another historical tableau is unveiled.

Cinematographer Tao Kio Qiu, who also shot Graveyard Horses, displays a particular affinity for the vibrant spectacle as a bright yellow ribbon is unfurled and snatched from the ground, scenes unfold in deep red and blue pools of light and the men are decked out in colourful armour and helmets. In contrast, there is almost something noir-like in the shadows around the show and the backstage world of costume rails, quiet preparations and the camaraderie Saina has with his friend Hasa (Undus). This is a hyper masculine performance space where injuries are endured and fears go unspoken. In the outside world, Saina is an increasingly vulnerable figure, caught between a vanishing past and an uncertain future.

Some of Saina’s diffidence and reserve is reflected in a film that is finely judged and captivating as we learn the problems that have become insurmountable. Saina lives with one foot in the past. His heart clearly belongs in the countryside, riding his beloved white stallion, but he has responsibilities. He supports his drunken, debt-ridden father (Tonggalag) and tries to provide for his young son who lives in the city with his ex-wife Tana (Qilemuge). 

Jiang is able to illuminate so many cares of the modern world through the life of one man. Saina is a victim of climate change, as prolonged drought threatens crops and livestock. He is also at the mercy of wider changes within China, as rural populations head into cities or are drawn from the land by the security of jobs in mining.  Saina has already sold his sheep to pay his bills, and the heart of the film becomes about what he is prepared to sacrifice to survive and what the impact will be on his self esteem. There are also echoes of classic American westerns where the imposition of civilisation leaves the individual adrift in an inhospitable world; a thread that runs through Lonely Are The Brave (1962) to The Rider (2017) and beyond.

Jiang’s film is immersed in the testing landscapes and traditions of Mongolia, but her assured storytelling makes it resonate more widely as she draws us into Saina’s dilemma and creates some deeply felt moments. Saina has an engaging screen presence, carrying the film with his calm authority and resilience. The non-professional cast around him are uniformly impressive, as they too convey the heartache of finding a place in a world that feels so different to that of their ancestors.