Article by Greta Maria Sorani

Translation by Federica Lozito

“The figure of the shaman arose in primitive societies to solve basic problems for the survival of societies. He tends to assume the behavior of an ecstatic character, acting as a bridge between spiritual and earthly energies, a channel for the divine will and for the forces of nature that he makes available to humanity through love and understanding”. This is an academic description of the shaman, the leading figure in City of Wind (2023), the feature debut by Mongolian director Lkhagvadulam Purev-Ochir, which was presented in the Horizons section of the 80th Venice Film Festival.

The vast snow-covered steppe of Mongolia, cold and inhospitable, yet calm and welcoming, is the center of a suspended reality that feels as if it has stood still since ancient times, representing a key character in City of Wind. Zé, a 17-year-old young shaman, suddenly begins questioning himself and his identity after a chance encounter with a girl his age named Maralaa. To be a shaman who helps people by embodying “the spirit of the ancestor” or to enjoy the lightheartedness of teenage love? The doubt haunts this shy and diligent boy, whose story, although set in a faraway land, seems to echo the many contradictions faced by all adolescents who are required, from a young age, to define themselves clearly in a society that does not tolerate half-measures. It is precisely this limitation that will lead him to become more aware of himself and his role.

The young filmmaker used the same subject in her first short film Šiluus (2020), deciding to expand its plot and horizons partly thanks to her participation in ScriptLab, the TorinoFilmLab development program. The story of the previous film, however, is told from the perspective of the girl, who plays a key role in helping Zé during a typical rite of passage for a teenager: falling for a girl who is not particularly interested because she is too caught up in family affairs. However, the film does not stop there; it stages profoundly and delicately what it means to be born and live in a culture that educates its young people as soldiers ready for the war of their future lives, to which only an animal’s howl can rebel to end the mistreatment.

City of Wind does not pretend to be perfect: it is a first feature that puts itself on the line, that tries to show a reality hardly known in the West, that of Eurasian communities living between the wealth and comfort of metropolises and total poverty due to the structural limitations of the territories.