|
<Back
| Home | Basics |
Departments | Get
Involved | Site Map | What's
New
 All
Thumbs Book Reviews
Urga (Close to Eden)
Nikita Mikhalkov
Miramax, 1991
Reviewed by Katherine Czapp
This French and Russian collaboration was filmed in 1989, on the eve
of perestroika and the collapse of the Soviet Union, a coincidence of
history that has inadvertently added an extra dimension to the cross-cultural
depictions of a contemporary story about a vanishing way of life.
Gombo, Pagma and their three children along with their grandmother
are ethnic Mongols living on the steppe of what is now Chinese territory.
The family are traditional herders living a comfortable, if isolated
life much as their forebears did, in stunningly beautiful terrain. Under
the Chinese one-child law there is an exception for ethnic minorities,
who may have two children. Already exceeding the law by one child, Pagma
knows her third child will be denied school attendance and other government
services.
Quite unexpectedly coming into their lives at this moment is Sergei,
a Russian truck driver working in China as a way to earn a decent wage
he couldn't find back home. Sergei's truck has broken down within shouting
distance of the Mongols' yurt, and Gombo comes to his rescue.
The film depicts a wealth of details that emphasize the differences
between contemporary Russian and Mongol cultures, from Sergei's numerous
metal teeth, to the quiet pleasure Gombo and his son take in gazing
at a dragonfly together, to the meal of a slaughtered sheep prepared
for Sergei while he stays the night with Gombo's family. The cinematography
is captivating in its beauty and scope, and allows small glimpses to
reveal much in Gombo and Pagma's lives.
Gombo and Sergei become friends, and spend a day together in the nearby
Chinese town where Sergei must return his truck, and Gombo is sent by
Pagma on a mission to purchase condoms and a television set to help
bring the family up to date.
The emotional climax of the film centers around Sergei's anguish and
disgust at how little he is able to provide for his own family while
working at a grueling job far from home, severed from his own heritage,
haunted by the losses of several wars. Gombo's life, by comparison,
is one of deep connection to the land, his family and an enduring way
of life.
Gombo's trip to town stirs deep memories and forebodings for him as
well, which are played out in a wonderfully surreal dream sequence in
which his ancestors materialize with warnings about the changes his
life may take if he succumbs to the temptations of modernity.
Close to Eden is a funny, wry and wise commentary on indigenous peoples,
cross-cultural friendships, and the encroachment of harsh global economic
realities. It is rare that a film with such an economical script can
encompass issues as wide-ranging as the politics of modern Mongolia
to the richness of life unaffected by western values. Gombo and his
family—all cast from local native Mongolians—are captivating
in their naturalness and their affinity to their surroundings, and make
each moment of the film a gem.
Look for the film in video format (a Miramax production with English
subtitles) in your public library's collection or video rental store
with a well-stocked foreign section. Amazon does sell the newly-issued
DVD, but be sure it is the English-subtitled version; only the Russian
version was available at this writing.
About the Reviewer
 Katherine Czapp was raised on a three-generation,
self-sufficient mixed family farm in rural Michigan. After studying Russian language
and literature at the University of Michigan, she is gratified to discover that the
skills and experiences of her anachronistic upbringing are useful tools in the 21st
century. She works independently as a three-season organic gardener and WAPF staff
editor. She and her husband Garrick live the slow life in Ann Arbor, Michigan. To
learn more about authentic sourdough bread recipes and to obtain a live culture
starter, visit www.realsourdoughbreadrecipe.com.
<Back
| Home | Tour
| Calendar | Contact
Us | Funding | Join
Now
|