Sèr sèr salhi

It is a fact that cinema armchair traveling is way better than ordinary armchair traveling, so this time the lights go dim and I am setting off to Mongolia, to Ulaanbaatar, the city of wind. The center of the story here is a 17-year-old young man finishing school and experiencing what regular 17-year-old people do. However, I believe that it is not the plot of the film that is to be observed closely, what is even more interesting to see is how seemingly contradicting things coexist in this place. A shaman dance, a piece of smoked meat thrown into hot tea with milk only to be eaten from there, modern consumerism culture, a top-notch heart surgery, a teacher barking at students (see to it, there will be a backlash!), a poor man's struggling to survive the winter hoping to see the signs of spring, pumping beats of nightclub music, falling in love for the first time and maybe then falling for something else instead. All of this we can see with such care and tenderness, giving room for both mysticism and humor.

The people who brought this film into life managed to show their unequivocal love for this place, a city of wind, a city of spirits. So may it grow and see the endless number of autumns. And springs. I feel grateful for this magical armchair journey I've now had.

Frost sparkles in the moonlight, snow falls on the mountains and concrete towers of Ulaanbaatar, and wind sweeps through the city and into the hearts of its people. The wind carries spirits and messages both ancient and modern.

A teenager, Ze, has a gift for seeing hidden things and for communicating with the spirits. People appear to glow, or they are in trouble, it seems to him. They sometimes run away from Ze because they don't want to know the truth in their hearts and fates. One young woman, Maralaa, does not run away. She is skeptical of Ze, but gradually warms to him. The pair begin to etch their dreams in drawings as well as each other's hearts. Her dream is to live in the country with animals and his is to make dreams come true. Another future seems possible for them. Everything happens in its own time.

This authentic, beautiful, touching, and unique romance is brought to life by the real experiences and imagination of director Lkhagvadulam Purev-Ochir. Her character-driven film is full of resplendent shots of Ulaanbaatar and its outskirts. Ambient sounds of water, wind, barking dogs, and other local things capture the personality of the place. Even if Imogen Poots and Daniel Day-Lewis were cast in leading roles they could not outshine the local actors bringing the characters to life, for only locals can do it. Purev-Ochir was present at this North American premier screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. "Things are not black and white," she said. "It is possible to be both traditional and modern."

Wind is prevalent in this mostly treeless country so it has a special place in the hearts of the Mongolian people. It has spiritual power to transform. People fall down, rivers crumble, and we all make mistakes. The wind and spirits change the city, nature, and people.

City of Wind reveals that it is possible to be a modern human in touch with the ancient past and nature, and that together there is strength. Such amazing international films change me just like the winds that sweep through Ulaanbaatar.

I have always been a fan of independent cinema, not only because it is a huge relief from Hollywood banality but above all because it allows me to travel around the planet and through the many cultures that still survive in this globalized world, and not as a tourist, but as an intimate observer of the cultural reality of each nation, through the eyes of its inhabitants.

In this curious film originating from Mongolia, a country far away on the map and in terms of culture, but produced by several companies and film support funds, including a Portuguese one (Filipa Reis), we witness what could be a "coming of age" in a Mongolian version.

A young 17-year-old shaman embodies the past and future of Mongolia, while surviving the problems of the present. He is the guardian of the tradition and ancient culture of his people, but also the hope for a modern, developed and prosperous Mongolia, without ceasing to be a 17-year-old boy, passionate and disillusioned by the conflicts of adolescence.

An original work, very interesting and highly recommended.