If Only I Could Hibernate – a very fine first feature

This Mongolian drama of a poverty-stricken young academic abandoned by his mother makes for a intriguing debut.

Growing up amid rugged plains on the outskirts of Mongolia’s capital, Ulaanbaatar, director Zoljargal Purevdash was a remarkably gifted student. So much so that she won a scholarship to a prestigious school, setting in motion a journey which saw her study filmmaking in Tokyo before returning to Mongolia to make her first feature, inspired by her experience of growing up. Purevdesh’s closeness to this intimate and tender coming-of-age story is palpable, one that depicts the universality of the struggle of living in indigence while maintaining its Mongolian essence.

If Only I Could Hibernate is an uncomplicated film. Ulzii, a fresh-faced and academically gifted teenage boy, based loosely on Purevdash herself and deftly brought to life by the first-time actor Battsooj Uurtsaikh, commits to winning a physics competition for a scholarship in order to alleviate his family from poverty. However, after his alcoholic mother abandons him, Ulzii becomes his younger brother and sister’s sole provider – a responsibility that becomes impossible to balance with his studies.

Purevdash draws on the hardships of life in Ulaanbaatar’s yurt district to emphasise the gravity of Ulzii’s dilemma. Cinematographer Davaanyam Delgerjargal makes the unforgiving Mongolian winter inescapable by capturing the snow-laden plains around tent city through a plethora of wide shots, many of which transition into closeups of a tense Ulzii, unable to purchase coal to warm his tent.

When his younger brother expectedly falls ill and Ulzii is unable to afford medicine, the extent of their destitution becomes unmistakable. The film’s potent script is further bolstered by its impressive score, which juxtaposes melancholic arrangements from the morin khuur with the perturbing intensity of traditional throat singing to capture the enormity of Ulzii’s struggle without relying on the contrivance of most coming-of-age narratives.

While Purevdash explores the cycle of poverty through a terrific script, she does tend to lean towards some timeworn storytelling devices. Scenes depicting Ulzii’s aptitude for physics are constantly juxtaposed with the ghastliness of his circumstances. While this poignantly depicts the cycle of poverty, it also results in If Only I Could Hibernate becoming hackneyed in its second act, when it poignantly explores the cruelty of their sorry lot and little else, taking the edge away from an otherwise-relentless final act.

The film also embodies uncommon depth in exploring tradition and masculinity and how the two intertwine. Ulzii lambasts his younger brother for shivering in bed. “Only girls get cold,” he says. He rejects support from a teacher and refuses to allow his sister to support him financially. Ultimately, the toll this enduring ordeal takes on Ulzii becomes too much, and his world starts to unravel in the film’s final act, during which mellow and isolating fixed medium shots that define the film start transitioning into unrelenting sequences, shot with hand-held cameras and with only Ulzii in focus. What follows is an intense and befitting conclusion to a formidable debut that captures the indomitability of the human spirit amid even the most challenging circumstances.

Little White Lies is committed to championing great movies and the talented people who make them.

By becoming a member you can support our independent journalism and receive exclusive essays, prints, weekly film recommendations and more.

Published 17 Apr 2024

Tags: Mongolian Cinema