atrix films Presents

(English Title: The Two Horses Of Genghis Khan)

a Film by Byambasuren Davaa

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A promise, an old, destroyed horse head violin (so called because its long slender neck is decorated at the end with a carved, wooden horse’s head) and a song believed lost lead the singer Urna back to Outer . The journey through the land of her fathers, however, turns out differently to what she expected.

Short synopsis

A promise, an old, destroyed horse head violin and a song believed lost lead the singer Urna back to Outer Mongolia. Her grandmother was forced to destroy her once loved violin in the tumult of the Chi- nese Cultural Revolution. The ancient song of the Mongols, “THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN”, was engraved on the violin’s neck. Only the violin’s neck and head survived the cultural storm. Now it is time to fulfil the promise that Urna made to her grandmother.

Arrived in Ulan Bator, Urna brings the still intact parts of the violin – head and neck – to Hicheengui, a renowned maker of horse head violins, who will build a new body for the old instrument in the com- ing weeks. Then, Urna leaves for the interior to look there for the song’s missing verses. But she will be disappointed. None of the people whom she meets on the way appears to still know the old melody of the Mongols.

Monologue from the film: Grandmother, melancholy grips my heart, when I think of your old violin. Broken like our homeland, divided like our people. It was your last wish to give it back its old form, to unite head and body on which the venerable verses were engraved. But the songs of the fathers are silent, even here no memory of the old time. My way leads back to the unknown homeland, with the help of my people, so I hope, a whole will arise again from pieces.

Synopsis

Unlike almost any other song, the verses of “THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN” embody the history and paradigm change of the Mongolian people. For the singer Urna, too, who was born in Inner Mongolia, the song becomes the touchstone of her cultural identity after she promised her deceased grandmother to bring back the family’s old horse head violin to the homeland, to give the destroyed violin, of which only the head and neck remain intact, a new body. The verses of the folk song were engraved on the neck. During the dark days of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, Urna’s grandmother was unable to save the horse head violin: only a fragment of the instrument and epic song could be rescued from destruction. Now it is time to fulfil the promise. Urna journeys first to Ulan Bator, to meet a famous horse head vio- lin ensemble. There, she hopes to learn more about the old verse. But her expectation is disappointed. Afterwards, Urna seeks out the horse head violinmaker Hicheengui, who evaluates the old violin head. He can restore the family heirloom, build the violin a new body. In the meantime, Urna sets off on a journey through Mongolia. She hopes, in the interior, to find the song’s missing verses from the nomads, as a cultural treasure passed on by oral tradition. But the first euphoria quickly gives way to renewed disappointment. The bus, in which she is travelling, gets stuck in mud. There is no properly functioning infrastructure in the countryside. Finding fortune in misfortune, she is taken in by a horse breeder who gives her horse hair, new strings, for the old-new violin. The horse breeders don’t know the song either, but they have a good idea: to- morrow a large wedding is taking place nearby. Maybe she can find someone there who can help her? But at the wedding none of the guests knows the folk song “THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN” either. A final lead takes Urna to a shaman, a spiritual medium between this world and the other. Can he show Urna the way to this song, to herself? Crew Direction and Script Byambasuren Davaa 1st Assistant Director Jiska Rickels 2nd Assistant Director Erdenee Orosoo Camera / DOP Martijn van Broekhuizen Camera Assistant Graham Johnston Sound & Sound Design ansgar Frerich Editor Jana Musik Music Ganpurev Dagvan Line Producer Zlata Findeis Producers Beatrix Wesle Byambasuren Davaa

Production Production companies Grasland Film GbR; atrix Films & Davaa Byambasuren aggensteinstrasse 13 a, 81545 München Tel. + 49 89 642 82 611 / Fax. + 49 89 649 57 349 [email protected] Production services nar CINEMA, Ulan Bator, Mongolia Supported by ffa, Berlin; FFF, , BKM, Berlin Technical details Format 1:1:85 Sound Dolby SRD Language Mongolian with German subtitles Year of production 2009 Completed May 2009 Location outer Mongolia Filmed from June – August 2008

The Mongolian Horse Head Violin

The Mongolian Horse Head Violin () is a two-stringed instrument, which is played with a bow and decorated with a wooden horse’s head at the upper end on the neck. The morin khuur embodies the national identity of the Mongols like no other musical instrument and symbolises the culture of the no- mads. Its gentle sound conveys the feeling of the original life and the dream of free living in the borderless expanse of the Mongolia steppe. By presidential decree, the morin khuur was declared to be the nation- al musical instrument, which every household in the country should possess. And nonetheless the tradition is today endangered. While the Mongolian national orchestra under the direction of Maes- tro Tsendiin Batchuluun achieves international success, the horse head violin is played increasingly less often in its home, the yurts of the nomadic population. The inspiration for playing the morin khuur rests in nature and the nomadic life. Even the great Genghis Khan was accompanied on his campaigns by a personal morin khuur player. It is the culture of horse breeding, which is inseparably bound with the morin khuur. The horse was venerated, just as was the blue sky, which gives the seemingly endless expanses of Mongolia their fascination. The long neck ends not with a curl above the sound box but a carved horse’s head. The strings are made traditionally of hair taken from the manes of Mongolian horses, as are the strings of the bow. The sound of the horse head violin is soft. Its tonal range lies approxi- mately between that of the European viola and violoncello. The sound reminds the Mongols of the wind across the steppe and the neighing of their horses. The first recorded mention of the morin khuur dates from the 12th century. It is also one of the Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity identified by UNESCO.

The Mongolian LONG SONG

The Mongolian song formUrtiin Duu (Уртын дуу), also known as Long Song, is a central element of traditional Mongolian music. The genre was not called Long Song because the songs were particularly long (even if, in fact, they often are). The syllables of the lyrics are, however, very drawn out. This way a four-minute song can contain only ten words. The lyrics of the Long Song cover a wide range. There are philosophical, religious, romantic or celebratory lyrics. Often, horses were built symbolically into the subject matter. In eastern Mongolia, the Long Song is accompanied mostly by the morin khuur, the horse head violin. In western Mongolia the Long Song is sung traditionally without instrumental accompaniment. The main characteristics of the Long Song are the extended notes in tenuto (held) with deep, regulated vibrato on the vowels. These majestic-sounding, vibrating notes give the song a profoundly philosophi- cal, meditative character. They convey to the listener the large mountain valleys and the calm of the Mongolian soul. There are three main styles of Long Song: besreg urtiin duu (“small long song”), urtiin duu and the aizam urtiin duu (“majestic long song”). Here, too, the style reflects the way it is performed and the technique, not the length of the song. In 2005, UNESCO declared the Mongolian Long Song a masterpiece of oral cultural heritage. “Cultural heritage is not limited to material manifestations such as objects, which have withstood time. The term also encompasses traditions, which groups and world-wide communities have inherited from their ancestors and have passed on, in most cases by word of mouth, to their successors.” Songs and Lyrics

THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN “THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN Long for their flock. When the snow on the mountains melts The brothers find their way back home again.“

Sixty Elm Trees (Mongolian folk song from Inner Mongolia) I II (From a younger version of Sixty Elm Trees) Like a fata morgana, sixty elm trees Steppe of Tsagaan Toorim, faraway blue waves, Gleam so faraway, so close, Waves beating like a bright storm, They withstand every drought, Meadows emblazon the trees there like jewellery – Bloom again every year. But we had to leave – what else should we do? From all directions of the wind, Dear and precious is this land to us, our beautiful homeland! Herds once pushed their way to the water there, But now we have to experience Which brightly coloured the meadows How, in this restless time, There at the river’s bend. The shepherds, powerless, take their farewell. But then came from near and far It is bitter to lose the homeland, Chinese people. To move on away from the old familiar land. Foreign farmers grabbed hungrily It happened in front of my eyes – For our pastures of Holvoolj. Precious land, and we had no another choice. They build on our pastures, Plough under old law. I cry for my sixty elm trees, Which blur in the distance. In front of me lies the wide land, Lost homeland everywhere. Wherever I look from my path, Chinese corn waves everywhere. Historical and political background

Introduction Mongolia lies between the large powers of Russia and China. As a historical-geographical term, Mongolia encompasses the highland between Lake Baikal in Siberia and the Great Wall of China, bordered in the west by the Altai mountains and in the east by the Great Chingan mountain range. The Gobi desert forms the interior of this space and divides it into the north- ern “Outer Mongolia” and the southern “Inner Mongolia”. Politically, the area is divided into Mongolia and the autonomous region of Inner Mongolia within the People’s Republic of China. Inner Mongolia dos not belong to the Chinese heartland, but was first incorporated into the empire during China’s recent history.

History The difference between Inner and Outer Mongolia grew historically. During the Qing Dynasty (1644- 1911), Inner Mongolia was subdivided into common Chinese provinces, whereas Outer Mongolia, in contrast, was for the most part left in its pre-Qing structures. Three hundred years ago it was populated not by Han Chinese but by Mongols and other non-Chinese peoples. With the other autonomous regions of China, it shares a similar fate to that of Tibet. To this comes the fact that many of the ethnic groups settled in the autonomous regions live on both sides of the national boundaries, which makes for an additional source of conflict. Since the 18th cen- tury, Chinese settlers have been streaming regularly into the area and have turned the Mongols into a small minority within their own “autonomous region”. A (re)unfication of southern and northern Mongolia is, for the present, not feasible. The situation is significantly different to that in , Korea or Vietnam, whose division was the direct result of a war, still fresh in recent memory, with the effect of a clear political and geographical break. In contrast to northern Mongolia, national identity in southern Mongolia has been destroyed on a wide scale. Nonetheless, the central government in Beijing is scared of greater Mongolian autonomy. Thus the and literature is promoted within the realm of universities, but a choir of Mongo- lian singers is, for example, compelled to also sing Chinese songs and/ or have Chinese members. Semi- private groups of Mongolian intellectuals (students, writers and scientists) are watched with suspicion by the security forces. The wave of arrests at the end of 1991 was directed chiefly at those people who were organised in such groupings. During the Cultural Revolution there were severe violations of the regional sovereignty of the “Autonomous Region of Inner Mongolia”. Officially, there has never been any comment on these events: only the maps at the start of the 1970s suddenly showed the frontier had been redrawn. Linguistic difficulties and economic disadvantages suffered by the Mongolian population increase the antipathy between Chinese and Mongols, which gives immediate rise to a nationality problem in every business transaction conducted between a Chinese and Mongol and, to an extent, leads to open dis- crimination against the Mongols by the Chinese. Historical Timeline:

ca. 1167 Birth of Temudshin (Genghis Khan). 1206 Unification of the Mongols under Genghis Khan. 1211-35 war against north China. 1115 Conquest of Beijing. 1223 Conquest of the Chinese empire. 1227 Death of Genghis Khan. 1241 Mongol victory at Liegnitz against German cavalry. Subjugation of Russia is completed. 1242 The Mongols reach the Adriatic. 1249-56 Conquest of central Asia and the establishment of Empire of Ikhane. There, the Mongols opened themselves to Persian-Islamic culture. 1258 The Mongols capture Baghdad. 1260 The Mongols capture Damascus. 1260-94 Time of Kublai Khan, unification of China under the Mongolian Yuan Dynasty. 1313-42 The empire of the “Golden Horde” in Russia becomes an Islamic state with Turkish as its official language. ca. 1350 Empire of Ikhane dissolves. 1368 End of the Yuan Dynasty and with it the end of Mongol rule in China. 1440-50 Decline of the “Gold Horde”. 1557 End of the “Golden Horde”. 1586 foundation of the Islamic monastic establishment, Erdeni Dzuu. 1619-34 Chinese-Mongolian-Manchurian fighting for power in eastern CentralA sia. 1628-36 subjugation of southern Mongolia and its incorporation into the Manchu state. 1644 The Manchus capture Beijing. Start of the Manchu-Chinese Qing Dynasty (1644-1911). 1688 Defeat of northern Mongolia by Olegoi; afterwards semi-colonial foreign territory (Outer Mongolia, approximate to today’s Mongolia). 1911 Declaration of independence by Outer Mongolia with Russian support. 1919 Military occupation by China. 1920 founding of the Mongolian People’s Party in Moscow (from 1924: Mongolian Revolutionary People’s Party) 1921 Expulsion of Chinese by Russian “White Guards”, followed by their destruction with the aid of the red Army. 1924 Proclamation of the Mongolian People’s Republic. 1939 august-September, Battle of Khalkhin Gol. The Red Army and Mongolian cavalry halt the Japanese advance towards Russia. 1945 China recognises the Mongolian People’s Republic. 1947 Establishment in China of the Autonomous Region of Inner Mongolia. 1990-91 Years of peaceful change in the Mongolian Republic. First free elections in July 1990, end of the one-party system, democratisation, move towards a market economy. Byambasuren Davaa (Script, Director, Producer) Byambasuren Davaa was born in 1971 in Ulan Bator, Mongolia. From 1989 to 1994 she worked as a presenter and assistant director at Mongolian state television while also studying law. In 1998, Davaa started to study at the High School for Film. In 2000, she moved to Germany to continue her studies at Munich’s Hochschule für Film und Fernsehen (HFF) in the docu- mentary film department, graduating in 2005. Davaa’s first feature-length film at the HFF was “THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL”, which she directed together with Luigi Falorni. The film won many accolades, among them the Bavarian Film Award, and was nominated in 2005 for an Oscar in the category of Best Documentary. The film was sold to more than 60 countries. That same year, Dav- aa’s graduation film, “THE CAVE OF THE YELLOW DOG”, was released in cinemas in Germany and other countries. For this film, Davaa received numerous national (GermanF ilm Award, “Best Children’s – Young Person’s Film) and international awards. In 2008, filming began on Byambasuren Davaa’s new feature-length documentary, “THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN” with the Mongolian singer Urna.

Filmography Script, Direction, Producer 2009 THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN 2004/2005 THE CAVE OF THE YELLOW DOG, (35 mm, 89 min). 2003 Buddha Knows the Way, Girl Portrait (30 min. for 3SAT / ZDF) 2003 THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL (35 mm, 91 min) 2001 The Wish, (10 min., 16 mm) 1999 THE ORANGE HORSE, (45 min, Video) 1993 One World, Two Economies (Mongolian TV, Video 2x45 min)

Awards (Selection) Nominated in 2005 for the in the category of “Best Documentary” for “THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL” as well as the Newcomer’s Award of the Hypo-Vereinsbank, Munich. Fed- eral Film Award for “THE CAVE OF THE YELLOW DOG” as well as many other national and interna- tional accolades. Director’s Statement

My films, THE CAVE OF THE YELLOW DOG and THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL have brought the life of the Mongolian nomads closer to an international audience. I am often asked about the fascinating music of my homeland. In my new film, THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN, my protagonist, the singer URNA, leads the viewer on a journey of musical initiation through Outer Mon- golia. She has come to have her grandmother’s old horse head violin repaired and to find the verses of an old song – THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN. The horse head violin, the morin khuur, embodies like no other instrument the Mongols’ national identity. Through the rapid pace of develop- ment today, which is causing the world to mutate into a large village, cultural identity and diversity have receded. In the same way Urna searches for the song believed lost, she is also searching vicariously for her people’s lost customs and traditions. By collecting the old songs, they will be saved from being forgotten forever. Symbolically, the broken violin stands also for the broken, divided Mongolian land, the separated brothers of Inner and Outer Mongolia, which today are slowly drawing near to each other again.

Interview – Byambasuren Davaa

How did you come across the subject of your third documentary? By coincidence! One day I received a call from an acquaintance, who runs a Mongolian shop in Munich. She asked me whether I knew the singer Urna. To my shame, I have to confess that I’d heard a great deal about her but up to then had never heard her music. Urna was with her in the shop, visiting, at that time and she would really like to meet me. I had time and just took myself off to the shop. That’s how I met Urna the first time, without any ulterior motives or the intention of making a new film. We were two Mongolian women from two different parts of Mongolia, who meet in Germany. Of course, our country’s division – Urna was born in Inner Mongolia, I in Outer Mongolia – was an imme- diate subject of discussion for us. We talked at length about it and swapped experiences of our differing lives on the most varying levels and our respective situation. Urna gave me a CD and signed it for me. Back home, I played it right away and found the music incredibly good. I called her back right away. At this point we were in regular contact but on a purely private basis. After I finished my film “THE CAVE OF THE YELLOW DOG” and my studies at the HFF in Munich were over, I looked for new subjects to film. Because I was continually being asked about the music and symbolism of my homeland, I suggested a film concept to Urna, which takes her as a singer back to her homeland of Mongolia. As in all my films, however, many stories arise from almost coincidental encounters with people whom we meet on site. Our team and Urna had to work with great flexibility here. But the effort paid off and we got wonderful scenes and stories. The song “THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN” plays a special role in the film. On the surface, it seems to be about two horses. What is the basis of the song and why is it so important for the Mongols? The history of the song originates in the Middle Ages, from the time of the Great Khans. What the au- thor was thinking personally back then, I don’t know. There is no scientific evidence of how it came to be. In the Middle Ages, many people were simply animalised, hidden in fables. One supposes behind the two horses are companions of Genghis Khan, who left the Khan but, however, later returned to him. Loyalty, for Genghis Khan, was the greatest virtue and fundamental for the conquest of such a huge em- pire. The song is currently so loved because it re-establishes our connection with Genghis Khan, with our history. Today, however, the song has gained another meaning and also stands symbolically for the divided country, for the separated brothers. How did you find the protagonists of your film? The very old singer, especially, has a very impres- sive presence. Here, too, coincidence was once again in my favour. We were filming in Ulan Bator when the political unrest began. We decided to leave the capital as quickly as possible and drive to the countryside. In a provincial centre, some 400 kilometres from the city, we wanted to go shopping at the market. Our driver then told of us that an old woman was living nearby, an old singer. We drove straight to her. She is over 80 years old. We didn’t know if she would talk with us, let alone let us film her. She was simply marvellous, cracked jokes the whole time and was as lively as a young girl. In the end we spent four days filming with her.W e couldn’t take up any more of her time because she wanted to celebrate a birthday with seven or eight of her friends, a group birthday so to say. She still had to prepare a few things. She very much enjoyed working with us. She told us many stories about her life and from her childhood. Urna’s journey also takes her to the shaman. Is shamanism still deeply anchored in Mongolian culture today? Shamanism, too, celebrated a kind of rebirth since 1990. In the years of Russian domination, shaman- ism – like Buddhism – was practised and passed on only within the family sphere. The shamans were persecuted, the situation was not without danger. Today, unfortunately, there are also many charlatans among the shamans, who are exploiting the new situation. In the time of Genghis Khan, shamanism was named as the state religion. The Khan had his own state shamans, who may have manipulated this or that prophecy for the purpose of the ruler, of course. Was it difficult to convince the shaman to let you film him? Genuine shamans do not allow themselves to be filmed due to religious reasons, unfortunately. How- ever, we were determined not to have any of the charlatans in the film. So we decided to re-enact the religious dance sequences exactly as they had taken place. What is special about Mongolian music? I’d like at this point to talk about the distinctiveness of the Long Song, which has been accepted by UNESCO as an object of world cultural heritage. This kind of song exists only in Mongolia and arose from the adaptation to life on the steppes. With this technique of singing it is possible to sing for sev- eral hours while on horseback, a single verse lasts often for anything up to ten minutes. The European style of singing has the mouth opening and moving very strongly, the Mongolian technique is similar rather to breathing in and out. On horseback, too strong movements of the mouth would not be with- out its dangers. The Mongolians have a special relationship to music. Many of their tales are told in songs. Is that still the case today? Do Mongolians really sing “whenever they open their mouths”? Unfortunately less and less. In the long winter evenings there are now, through modern media, other forms of entertainment than there were ten, fifteen years ago. In the past, in areas without electricity there were not many possibilities for entertainment in winter after half past four. So people talked a great deal with each other, told stories. People gathered in large yurts, the fire crackled and people told tales by candlelight. That’s now being replaced by television and radio. Stories are told today chiefly on the stage and in books. Do Mongols sing whenever they open their mouths? Yes – Mongols like singing very much. In the countryside especially, singing is rooted just as strongly as before. In the city, people these days also use new technology and sing karaoke. Singing is in our blood, passed on by nature and life on the steppe. You have to sing, otherwise you can’t survive. You’re often spending days in the saddle and all alone. Without singing, you’d perhaps have gone mad. The treatment of animals and our rituals are also tightly bound up with song. Maybe singing is a form of survival for us, a tactic in order to be able to exist on the steppe. The horse had violin is a very special instrument. Is it still an integral part of musical culture in Mongolia? Yes, it is and I am very proud that this culture is still being so well maintained. Without the horse had violin, Mongolian music would not happen. It is part of our identity, it is a purely Mongolian instru- ment. But I am very ashamed of the attack on the Palace of Culture in Ulan Bator last summer, in which all the instruments and costumes of the horse head violin ensemble, which we see in the film, were destroyed. Many Mongols are still learning to play the horse head violin even today. It is a core element of the training at the High School for Music. What is new is that these days women, too, in contrast to before, are learning to play the instrument. In the past it was the preserve of men, a man’s instrument. How present is the name of the Great Khan among the people today? What does he still mean to people? After the fall of the Soviet Union there was a kind of rebirth of Genghis Khan in Outer Mongolia. Up till then, everything that supported national identity was forbidden. Today, we are again proud of the Great Khan. He has mutated into an almost holy figure. Parallel to that, however, he has also been degraded to a marketing tool of many Mongolian brands. Thus, for example, there is Khan-Bräu and Genghis-Bräu, beer brands, both of which are made by German breweries. In the end credits of the film we lean that the old instruments and costumes of the horse head violin ensemble were destroyed. What happened exactly in summer 2008 in Ulan Bator? In summer, the fifth parliamentary elections in our country’s history were held in Outer Mongolia. During counting there were irregularities, people talked of voting fraud. Protests in front of the main building of the communist party spiralled out of control. There was looting and destruction. Next to the party building is the Palace of Culture, which houses the national orchestra, the horse head violin ensemble, the children’s library and the art gallery. Protesters and looters destroyed everything that was in the Palace of Culture. Is the ensemble being reconstituted? Yes, thank God. It was supported immediately by donations. Nonetheless, people in Mongolia are in a difficult financial situation. On July 11th we’re celebrating our independence of 1921. But a celebra- tion without this ensemble, without horse head violins, would be quite unthinkable. The costumes and instruments were replaced immediately, but the psychological wounds and scars remain. In the film you also address gold mining and the destructive exploitation of nature and man which goes with it. Is it true that it is western countries that are principally responsible? We Mongols are not economically in the position to produce the equipment for gold mining ourselves, or to buy it. So the industrialised nations provide it. But there is not, unfortunately, a fair division of goods. Thus, in today’s Outer Mongolia, people are becoming increasingly poorer, despite the gold mining, because a few individuals are enriching themselves through corruption. Laws to protect the environment, such as in Europe, do not yet exist, but more and more organisations are fighting back against the destructive exploitation of nature. But the conflicts are simply regulated with money.I t is a new situation for my country. The people first have to learn how to deal with it. Urna explains in the film that her grandmother’s violin fell victim to the Cultural Revolution. How great is the Mongols’ loss of the old traditions and customs in today’s China? Until the changes of 1989, we had, of course, to live together with the Russians in Outer Mongolia, which also strongly influenced our culture. To begin with, we had to break with many old traditions and customs. Religion was suppressed as well. But the biggest difference between the two “Mongolias” is that there are no longer any nomads in Inner Mongolia. Animals are not permitted to wander around freely. They are found only on fenced meadows. In Outer Mongolia, in contrast, we still have the freedom to be nomads. In Inner Mongolia there was pressure to settle. We address this in the film.A graphic example of the Cultural Revolution can be seen in the film “Living”, by Zhang Yimou. The banning of the old culture was a revolution that left scars. Urna comes from Inner Mongolia, part of today’s China, to Outer Mongolia. Hardly anyone knows that Mongolia is also a divided nation. How does the present generation deal with the division? Do people long for reunification? There is a longing for unification, yes, but both parts approach it differently, also not feeling the divi- sion in the same way. Only in recent years, since the start of the 1990s, could we receive each other’s radio and TV pro- grammes. Since then there has been continuous contact between Inner and Outer Mongolia. Before, one heard just rumours and legends about the other, which took on an almost fairytale character. After the collapse of the Soviet Union there was again an exchange between the countries, where I have to say that the people in Inner Mongolia had a greater longing towards Outer Mongolia than vice versa. That’s certainly down to Inner Mongolia already being a republic, an autonomous country, back then, even if it was also under Soviet domination. It was and is the special fate of our people to have to live between two world powers, sort of as a buffer. Because Outer Mongolia was a satellite state of the USSR since 1921, a great many Russian influences have crept into our everyday life. Inner Mongolia, however, was strongly marked by Chinese culture. You can see it most clearly in the cuisine, the development of language and writing. During my stay in Beijing, a Mongol from Inner Mongolia told me that people hold the language of Inner Mongolia to be the pure Mongolian language. However, we say exactly the same thing about the language of Inner Mongolia. In any case, there is a mutual appreciation there. In Outer Mongolia, however, it is a taboo to talk about a possible reunification, about the political di- mension of the two countries. As in the question of Tibet, people in Inner Mongolia who express their opinion openly are punished and have failed in their wish for independence and self-determination. Outer Mongolia has become independent after the fall of the Soviet Union. How has life changed there? Much has changed due to the collapse of the Soviet Union. The most important change is: the world has again opened for us. In the past, we could not travel privately and business trips were tightly con- trolled and regulated. Before 1989 we were not allowed to travel to Inner Mongolia and, vice versa, the people of Inner Mongolia were not allowed to visit Outer Mongolia. Your new film deals with music, tradition and a passage of initiation by Urna. But hasn’t it also become a political film? I believe the viewpoint of my new film depends very strongly on the viewer. But, certainly, we couldn’t omit the subject of politics entirely. Two Mongol women from two different countries, which, only a short while ago, were still not allowed to have any contact with each other. You’ve been living for many years in Germany already. Has your view of your homeland changed through being at a distance? Through the distance I have, in the end, got to know my people even a whole lot better. Things, which I held for everyday or obvious, I am today learning to appreciate quite differently. From a distance, the view is quite different. This gave rise to stories that are also in my films. Can your third film, “THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN”, be understood as the final part of a trilogy, following on from THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL and THE CAVE OF THE YEL- LOW DOG? No. My third film does take place in Mongolia again, that’s true, so you could think it’s part of a trilogy. But this latest film has a new departure, looks for fresh images and has another atmosphere.I directed my films THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL and THE CAVE OF THE YELLOW DOG in one loca- tion and with a somewhat traditional narrative. The films show a way of life that you find increasingly less in Mongolia. In THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN I consciously wanted to choose another departure, not repeat the same well-tried ethnic pattern of thought of my other films and not to depict yet again the “ideal world” of the nomads. That’s why my protagonist, Urna, comes from abroad to Mongolia as a “stranger” because she’s looking for her cultural roots. She arrives in the capital, which is no different from other large cities in many respects. From there she begins her journey to the north and west of the country. In so doing the country’s diversity, the contrasts of old and new, the different people whom she meets form the centre point of the film. My aim is for the viewer to experience Urna’s perspective of my country. In this way he or she will come much closer to today’s Mongolia than in my first two films. What will your next film look like? Are you staying faithful to documentaries or could you imagine realising something fictional? I can imagine both very well. But I am not a champion of the clear division of genres. My first priority is to tell good stories. Whether in so doing it is a documentary with fictional elements or a fiction film with documentary elements is something I’m really not bothered about. I’m already thinking about new projects, but at the moment it’s still too early to decide. Urna Chahar Tugchi

The internationally known Mongolian singer Urna Chahar Tugchi was born in 1968 in the Ordos re- gion in the south west of Inner Mongolia, into a family of herders from whom she learned hundreds of traditional songs since she was a child. From 1989-1993 she studied the Chinese dulcimer, the yangqin, at the Shanghai Conservatory. Since 1994 she has performed on stage as a singer. Concerts in China brought her and the Gaoshan Liashui musical ensemble onto the path of traditional projects and in 1994 to the Beijing jazz festival. In the meantime she has performed on many European stages and at festivals, impressing audiences with her strong, poetical voice. Her spectrum ranges from pianissimo passages of compelling intensity to melodic orgies in the Mongolian singing style of furioso volume. Her special love is reserved for, alongside the for Europeans unimaginably expansive sky above the Mongolian grass land, the Mongolian language and music.

Press comments “The Voice of the Mongolian Grassland” “While you listen to the interpretations of these old melodies, it feels like you are seeing landscapes that you’ve never set foot upon.“ (taz, Berlin) “Like an angel, she effortlessly celebrated the whole palette of the art of human song making.“ (Plauen) „The magical power of a voice lets you experience the expanse of the grassland.“ (Celle) „From the first beats of her concert programme she conjured up such an intensive atmosphere through her voice and enchanting presence, that one hardly dared to breathe.“ (Bad Wildungen) „When she sings of love, you sense something of the depth of this feeling.“ (Trossingen) „A wonderfully rounded, atmospheric ensemble work.“ (Bremen) „You imagine associations of sadness transformed into music full of tenderness. Exotic and yet strangely close, the Music transports ... into a world of sublime breadth.“ (Wesermarsch) Play me the Song of the Steppe Summary: Hans-Georg Moek, June 1999 / Frankfurter Rundschau Norbert Krampf May 2003 / FAZ When Urna Chahar Tugchi sings, she tilts her head slightly backwards and closes her eyes. She then looks like she is dreaming – of the rough grasslands of the steppe: of Ordos, about which she sings and from where she comes, the high plateau in the southwest of Inner Mongolia, across which the wind blows permanently. There, one sings at every opportunity as a matter of course, festively or mundanely, on foot or horse- back, together or alone. Calmly and unpretentiously, in so doing exuding striking self-confidence, the maidenly Urna stands alone on the stage and takes the audience with her on a wonderful journey. Urna’s songs live through the extraordinary breadth of her four-octave voice as well as her perfect intonation. From the highest pitches of clear and cutting intensity via powerfully screamed eruptions, whose volume and timbre sound barely human, to warm, sometimes only aspirated pianissimo pas- sage, Urna extends the whole span of her ability before the fascinated audience. Capers such as the fast sliding up and down between head- and chest-voice or the constant change of tones within a piece expand to an astounding work of art, which transports the listener to another sphere. Puristic aesthetic and perfection define the atmosphere together with pictures of the steppe, expanse, sky and freedom. The Ordos region is not only known for the expanse of its wonderful steppes. As the cradle of a rich tra- dition of singing, it is also known as the “Ocean of Songs”. The singer Urna was born there, the daughter of a family of shepherds, and as a child had already learned countless songs from her grandmother. There is nobody in Mongolia who is not familiar with Mongolian songs: they are sung everywhere and in all circumstances. Urna has an extremely expressive voice. Rarely does a single voice sound as powerful as a small orchestra; even rarer are vocalists, who remain with their feet on the ground and don’t lose themselves in artificial craftwork. Urna Chahar Tugchi belongs among these exceptions. Her quiet charm, stamped by Buddhist philosophy, an obvious sense of tradition and the almost surreal range of her melodies, rooted in the central Asian steppe, account for the secret of the studied musician. Urna’s songs oscillate in an area of conflict of country folklore, which reflects the poetic-bitter life of the nomads, and an almost spiritual contemplation whose mythical energy grips spectators at once. Whether sitting or standing, the petite woman lives out her self-penned songs or, rarer, adaptations of archaic tunes, with body and soul. The great voice swings aloft in fragile coloraturas and breaks them abruptly with powerful, nasal-bleating repetitions, joyfully bubbling, tumbling syllables or frighten- ingly sharp cries in extreme pitches. Behind closed eyelids the seemingly inwardly-focussed gaze turns upwards to the sky, and this gesture is international, quite in contrast to the harmonies, which always maintain an exotic aura. As does the rise and fall between reticence and passion, cheerfulness and gentle melancholy, philosophical abstrac- tion and unconditional expression. As if she would awake from her dream at the end of every song, the former shepherd girl gave, in good German and with relaxed charm, the audience’s associations a direction: she sang of horses and love, of the history of her people and again and again about the landscape. It suits the unpretentious, poised artist, that she also now and again undermines the magic of her mu- sic. Urna sings of Genghis Khan’s horses, which are arguing whether or not it’s better to run off to richer pastures, of the Khan, who is marrying the hunchbacked, ugly girl with the beautiful heart, or of the little Urna, who feels herself borne on the back of the grandmother, while they wait together for the salt caravan. To show that her homeland also knows funny songs, alongside the melancholic and sad ones, she fi- nally sung a song that – as she explained – Mongols keep on singing until such time as the guest finally drinks the brandy offered by the host. Two members of the audience where asked to come onstage and imitate the wind on the steppe using wooden bullroarers. Above this sound, quasi carried by the “breeze”, but as a majestic bird instead of a helpless feather, Urna’s charismatic voice soars, sometimes dragged abruptly to the heights, but never threatened with a crash to the depths. That sounds, also without effusive laryngeal or overtone singing, fabulous to European ears. Urna convinces through a more than perfect command of singing techniques, associative interpre- tational talent, charm and charisma. Urna does not simply go about her music, Urna is her music. A fantastic music, which is best listened to with the eyes closed. We experience a world that might appear to us as a sign from another time, a time in which mankind still shaped life more holistically. Interview – Urna Chahar Tugchi

What was the reason for you making this film with Byambasuren Davaa, which, as we see, became very personal for you in many areas? When Byambasuren Davaa first talked to me about working together I was originally very reticent, because in recent years I had turned down several approaches from film makers. Most of them wanted to make just a straightforward documentary about me. I, for my part – and I have always emphasised this – wanted to make a film through which I can convey something important and, at the same time, interesting. I’m always very ready and open for such a film. I could not imagine a documentary about just the singer Urna. That’s what I told Byambasuren Davaa at the start. Byambasuren Davaa let me convince her, showed interest in my approach through her visits and through our conversations. Then we developed ideas for the film, which slowly matured. We see the result in the film! I hope and wish that our joint film can give all those who see it something special. How did you find working together? Very exciting! In was an interesting and new experience for me, working together with a film team. What was the most important encounter for you? Which was the most impressive experience dur- ing filming? What moved me was being allowed to spend three whole days together with the old woman, Mrs. Chimed Emee. She reminded me of my grandmother. My grandmother meant a very great deal to me and taught me an incredible amount of valuable things. She shaped me. I was born in her house, lived there until I went to school. My grandmother gave me so very much. Many songs seem to have been lost in recent years. Do you see yourself as a collector and curator of the old traditions, as well? Others have to answer this for me. As an artist, I try my best to keep the origin of the old songs alive and to develop them further. The “Urdiin Duu”, the long songs from my home region of Ordos are something quite special: very slow, partly extremely calm and solemn! Unfortunately, almost everyone today sings these songs faster and at extreme volume. Well-known singers do that too. I believe that does not do these songs justice. Many songs are still sung only rarely. Many young Mongols barely know these songs anymore. My grandmother, in contrast, not only knew them all, she also knew all the stories behind these songs. Every song has its own story. That was something I learned in 1997 with my song collection in my homeland of Ordos, unfortunately: the songs are still there, but many stories of the songs, how they came to be, have been lost. What is special about the horse head violin? The horse head violin exists only in Mongolia. Mongolian music is very strongly tied to nature, to the landscape, its expanse, with the people and animals. You studied music in Shanghai. What’s the best way to picture studying music in China? By what “standards” do they teach there? As a student at the Shanghai Conservatory I learned a great deal, not just about music. I studied not just singing, but also the yangqin, the Chinese dulcimer. At the same time I followed my own musical path, which slowly became the basis for my own music. I attended concerts, listened to international and national artists, watched students in other subjects, such as the violin, cello, singing, piano, take their exams. Among the students were musicians from Inner Mongolia, from Tibet, East Turkestan, Han Chinese. When I listened to the exams and tests, I noticed that the music always sounded rela- tively the same. I missed the variety, could no longer hear the singularities of all these cultures. They sounded simply all the same. The female singers, especially, had all learned exactly the same manner or technique. The traditional songs sounded more like a mixture of Han Chinese music, influences of European and Chinese opera. Only the lyrics were still original, still passing on the respective culture. The musical technique, which is taught in the music schools, flattens out the differences. To my ears, it covers and overlays the unique features of the respective cultures. I have always found that to be a very, very great pity. If you live with your own culture and tradition, know it and constantly learn knew things about it, then it will ease and encourage the exchange with other cultures. That is a wonderful give and take. What one has to give is ones own, what one takes belongs to the other. You can only give something when you have something to give yourself. Ones own culture and tradition are humanity’s most valuable items.

How did you find your own musical path in the end? I didn’t have to find my own musical path. It is there. I simply followed it, sometimes taking a detour. I have always sung, and everywhere. Most likely in my mother’s stomach. Well, okay, sometimes my parents were “lovingly annoyed” by my constant singing, in any case. What meaning does the song “THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN” have for you? The song is multi-layered. In the film, you learn more about its meaning. It’s the oldest song from my homeland, Ordos. The Ordos region is known as the “Sea of Songs”. This song is just one of many songs. You were born in the “Middle Kingdom” as a Mongolian. What does it mean to live in China as part of a minority? The “Middle Kingdom” is a country with 56 different peoples – such as we Mongols in Inner Mongolia, the Uigurs in East Turkistan, the Tibetans, the Han Chinese and and and ... In the west, the Middle Kingdom is perceived mostly as just China. Many people think of or under- stand this China as only the country of the Han Chinese. But there are 56 different peoples, who live in a country. It’s exactly that, which accounts for the attraction of this country and the beauty of its culture. I realised for the first time in Europe, that people in the west understand the country Middle Kingdom simply as China. In my Mongolian mother tongue, this term does not exist – and, by the way, it’s also not in the Chinese language of Mandarin. For us, it is the Country in the Middle. Do the Mongols of Inner and Outer Mongolia long for a united Mongolia? That is rather a political question. I am an artist, not a politician. I convey our Mongolian culture through my music, just as Byambaa conveys our culture through her films.A nd I am happy to share my music with all the people of this world who are interested in Mongolia, her culture and her people. What sort of stories did your grandmother tell about the old homeland? My grandmother was a fantastic singer and storyteller. As a child, I listened to countless stories from her and we sang many traditional songs together. When my grandmother told me stories it was like I was in the cinema: it was like I was watching a film. That’s how lively her storytelling was! To what extent are Mongolian customs and songs still lived out in China today? Among ourselves in Inner Mongolia, these customs and songs were maintained during the Cultural Revolution principally by the stores and tales of the old people. During the Cultural Revolution of the 1960 and 1970s, you were not allowed to own any old items. Many traditional customs and traditions were forbidden. You weren’t even allowed to possess traditional ceremonial wedding dress, let alone wear it, too. And it was also forbidden to sing the old Mongolian songs for many years, as well. How do you find life in Outer Mongolia? How is it different from that in Inner Mongolia? When I was small, I often heard my and other grandparents say: “If we were allowed to make this jour- ney just once in our lifetime, if we could travel just once from Inner Mongolia to Outer Mongolia – then we would sleep in peace in Mother Earth after our death.” That’s what they looked like – the unfulfilled dreams of many Mongolian grandparents. I was born and grew up in Inner Mongolia. Today, I live in Cairo and have a German passport. Since 1992 I’ve been sharing my music with people throughout the world and travel through many countries. But my journey for our film was quite different from that for my concert tours. Nonetheless, it is a journey full of music. It was a journey, which I had already made in my thoughts with my grandmother as I was a child. A journey, of which many grandmothers and grandfathers in Inner Mongolia dream and, perhaps, also associated with wonderful hopes and wishes. With the hope of finding, what I was looking for. I am looking for many things. I am looking for answers to questions – through and with my music. I am looking for stories and solidarity with tradition and I also have the wish to experience and see more ... I am humming inaudibly an old song, which I sung as a child with my grandmother, that many of our ancestors also sung for sure. The music is accompanied by the exchange and encounters with people in various places. Through the music, the search for bonds between past and present develops and unites old with new ... Such as the wishes and hopes of many grandparents – experienced and lived by both generations today. Can songs critical of the system, like “Sixty Elm Trees”, be sung in their homeland without any danger? During the Cultural Revolution it was very dangerous, but today you can sing it. Many Han Chinese, sing our Ordos songs too, however only the “Bogoni duu”, the short songs. The long songs, on the other hand, have a special characteristic. They are very difficult to sing! Does the figure of the Great Khan live on in the “Middle Kingdom”? Or is Genghis Khan a persona non grata? Genghis Khan was a great statesman. He united the Mongols and conquered a huge empire. We Mon- gols know that, the Han Chinese also know that, the whole world knows it. I often have the impression, we busy ourselves too much with the negative side of history – the wars and cruelty. Of course, you cannot ignore the negative things. But we can’t also live facing the past because of them. We live today – in the 21st century. There is always both, parallel – good and bad. It’s not about making figures from the past into superheroes or to demonise them for waging wars. It’s about understanding Genghis Khan as part of our Mongolian history. It’s good to know history and learn from the past. Why did you leave Inner Mongolia? I was born in Inner Mongolia. But leave? No Mongol has ever left Mongolia, neither Inner or Outer! Both parts are the homeland of the Mongols, Inner and Outer Mongolia. But you left your homeland and live today, for the most time, abroad. How do you “invent” songs so far away from your homeland? I have not left my homeland. I am a traveller with my homeland inside me. I carry my homeland in my heart. Perhaps that’s why I feel at home everywhere. Where do you live today? What are your new plans? I live in Egypt, in the middle of Cairo. After filming,I took a bit more time for myself there. There was still a lot to work on: not only the film, but also for me personally. There are ideas, which arose during my journey and while filming. At the moment I am planning my upcoming concerts. I have my child-aid project “Amilal”, which sup- ports two schools in Inner Mongolia: through “Amilal” some 80 children are now being educated. These are schoolchildren whose parents could not even afford to pay for their own everyday subsistence, let alone an education for their children. In 2005 it was still quite a small project, but since then it has grown and already takes a great deal of time. That is great: the children are happy to be able to go to school and learn. Some of them have, in the meantime, even gone on to university. Martijn van Broekhuizen (DOP) Martijn van Broekhuizen graduated in 2003 from the Netherlands Film und Television Academy in Amsterdam with the film UNTERTAGE. He continued his very successful cooperation with Jiska Rick- els with 4 ELEMENTS. His films have won awards both at home and abroad.

Filmography (Selection) Documentaries 2008/2009 THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN 2008/2009 Babaji, An Indian Love Story 2006 a Freshly Skinned Dog 2006 4 Elements 2005 Made in Korea: A One Way Ticket – Seoul-Amsterdam 2004 Electriek 2003 Untertage

Ansgar Frerich (Sound)

Ansgar Frerich has already worked previously with Byambasuren Davaa on “THE CAVE OF THE YEL- LOW DOG” and “THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL”.

Filmography (Selection) 2008/2009 THE TWO HORSES OF GENGHIS KHAN 2007 hEart of Fire (Feuerherz by Luigi Falorni) 2006 Eden 2004 THE CAVE OF THE YELLOW DOG 2003 THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL 2003 sChulze Gets the Blues Jiska Rickels (Assistant Director)

After various appearances in music and theatre projects, Jiska Rickels began her film studies in 1998 at the Netherlands Film und Television Academy in Amsterdam. After three years studying in Amster- dam, Jiska Rickels transferred for an academic year to the HFF in Munich, where she met Byambasuren Davaa. As assistant director, she accompanied “THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL” in 2002 / 2003. The same year, Jiska Rickels finished her film studies in Amsterdam with UNTERTAGE. Fol- lowing that film’s great success, she began working on 4 ELEMENTS, a documentary about men who work under extreme conditions: FIRE, WATER, EARTH, AIR. As the opening film at of the IDFA 2006 it was also released theatrically. In 2007, Jiska Rickels won the national award for Best Director in the Netherlands. 4 ELEMENTS played at more than 30 film festivals and garnered many awards. In 2008, Jiska Rickels made “Babaji, An Indian Love Story” in India, which had its premiere at the Rotterdam Film Festival 2009.

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