April 4, 2013
Tengri – Kyrgyzstan,
2008
In today’s fast-paced, connected world, there is often a
tendency to romanticize simplicity and to portray undeveloped lands as being
where true happiness and tranquility are possible. It is a sentiment that I completely
understand, and at first glance, actor-director Marie-Jaoul de Poncheville’s
film Tengri seems to be set in such a
place. Located high in the majestic Kyrghyz Mountains, surrounded by grassy
fields and immaculately blue lakes, it is one of those places that instantly takes
your breathe away, and for a moment, I can easily imagine viewers allowing
themselves to believe that life in this outwardly modern-day Eden must be absolutely
idyllic. It is a notion that the film puts to bed rather quickly. After all,
women in paradise don’t sing about their desire for their husbands to leave the
world as soon as possible.
Early on in the film, a young man named Temur makes his way
to a jailoo (a small community) high up in the mountains. He is looking for his
father. After learning that he “left the world a long time ago,” Temur is
allowed to settle down there, but not before being asked a number of fairly reasonable
questions, such as whom he is running from
and whether he has killed anyone. His welcome is punctuated by the approach
of a beautiful young woman holding a cup of milk in her hand. He drinks a
little of it, and then she drinks the rest before letting out a loud, peculiar
sound that seemed both flirtatious and boastful, almost as if she were establishing
herself as his equal. It is the start of a rather amazing love story.
The village is a mixture of generations, from the village
elders to their children and finally to their grandchildren. The elders seem to
know the rules and accept them even as they look at their children somewhat
disapprovingly. Their children have continued many of their parents’ traditions
and may in fact have expanded on them. This middle generation also shows signs
of wanting more and not being able to accept their inability to get it. Some in
the village have turned to alcohol to escape; one villager in particular has
turned to religion and war. Both decisions enable distance and violence to
enter into the community. The youngest of the villagers are caught between two
worlds, for modernity, in the form of the internet and the social interaction it
often brings with it, is rapidly approaching. In one scene, one of the children
explains that his school will soon have internet access, and from the sound of
his voice, we can sense how excited he is about this. Another child displays
the same disdain for women as his father, and it is shocking to see what little
regard he has for his own mother.
There are other moments in Tengri of quiet astonishment – a traveling circus in the middle of
nowhere, the amazing view of a spot where a patch of barren earth becomes a
snow-covered mountain, a heart-wrenching revelation involving family tragedy, and
glances so tender that words are unnecessary. From them, we can see exactly how
Temur and Amira feel about each other. The problem of course is that they are
not supposed to be together, and the film’s final act shows their daring
attempt to achieve happiness. Events such as these, one’s in which characters
begin acting heroically on the turn of a dime, are not always believable, but screenwriters
Marie-Jaoul de Poncheville, Jean-Francois Goyet, and Azamat Kadyraliev have
created characters that do not suddenly discover their valiant nature. They
have always had it; it just took finding each other to bring it out fully.
Tengri has a
strong cast, and it is hard to believe that Albina Imasheva (Amira) and Elim
Kalmouratov (Temur) do not have long lists of credits to their names. If the
film has a fault, it is that a few of its scenes seem forced, as if the film
were desperate to find ways to produce just a little more drama. These moments
are easy to spot, for the conflicts they contain are resolved rather awkwardly and
they often involve behavior that seems more eccentric than realistic. I also
felt the film’s final act had a small but noticeable pacing problem. However,
these are minor quibbles about an otherwise excellent film. Tengri is a stark reminder that violence
and sorrow can exist everywhere. However, it is also a reminder that, as a key
character puts it, it is possible to write a different song than the one that fate
seems to have selected for you. It is an important message in these sometimes
trying times. (on DVD in Region 3)
3 and a half stars
*Tengri is in
Russian and Kirghiz with English subtitles.
*It was Kyrgyzstan’s official submission for Oscar
consideration in 2009.
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