DIRECTOR: Zoljargal Purevdash
STARRING: Battsooj Uurtsaikh, Nominjiguur Tsend, Tuguldur Batsaikhan
RUNNING TIME: 1 hr 38 minutes
LANGUAGE: Mongolian
Ulzii, a teenager from a poor neighbourhood in Ulaanbaatar, is determined to win a science-physics competition to get a scholarship. His illiterate mother finds a job in the countryside, leaving him and his brother and sister in the middle of winter. Ulzii wanders around at night looking for things to burn for heat while preparing for the national competition.
***
This is the first feature film for director Zoljargal Purevdash after her work on several short films. If Only I Could Hibernate made history at the Cannes Film Festival by becoming the first Mongolian film shown in the Un Certain Regard section of the festival, where it made its worldwide debut in May 2023. It has since played in dozens of film festivals around the world before being released in theatres.
The Mongolian Film Committee announced on September 27th that If Only I Could Hibernate would be their selection.
The film is produced by Amygdala Films, with Urban Factory and New Mongol Academy.
If Only I Could Hibernate is a drama and it was filmed in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.
To check out all previous submissions for Mongolia, click HERE.
STARRING: Battsooj Uurtsaikh, Nominjiguur Tsend, Tuguldur Batsaikhan
RUNNING TIME: 1 hr 38 minutes
LANGUAGE: Mongolian
Ulzii, a teenager from a poor neighbourhood in Ulaanbaatar, is determined to win a science-physics competition to get a scholarship. His illiterate mother finds a job in the countryside, leaving him and his brother and sister in the middle of winter. Ulzii wanders around at night looking for things to burn for heat while preparing for the national competition.
***
This is the first feature film for director Zoljargal Purevdash after her work on several short films. If Only I Could Hibernate made history at the Cannes Film Festival by becoming the first Mongolian film shown in the Un Certain Regard section of the festival, where it made its worldwide debut in May 2023. It has since played in dozens of film festivals around the world before being released in theatres.
The Mongolian Film Committee announced on September 27th that If Only I Could Hibernate would be their selection.
The film is produced by Amygdala Films, with Urban Factory and New Mongol Academy.
If Only I Could Hibernate is a drama and it was filmed in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia.
To check out all previous submissions for Mongolia, click HERE.
FILM REVIEW:
(This review contains spoilers.)
"I feel I am going to be defeated by everything if I cry."
If Only I Could Hibernate is a powerful and deeply humanistic debut from Mongolian filmmaker Zoljargal Purevdash that captures the heartache and hope of a young boy navigating a world of economic hardship and cultural transition. Set against the backdrop of Ulaanbaatar’s frigid winters, the film explores universal themes of resilience, family, and the pursuit of dreams while immersing viewers in the uniquely Mongolian experience of balancing tradition and modernity. With a gentle touch and an unflinching eye for detail, Purevdash crafts a story that is as intimate as it is universally resonant.
At its core is 15-year-old Ulzii, portrayed with raw charisma by newcomer Battsooj Uurtsaikh. Ulzii’s journey is one of quiet heroism: a gifted physics student with aspirations for a brighter future, he is weighed down by the relentless demands of caring for his siblings after his mother returns to agricultural work in the countryside. The tenderness of their sibling bond provides the emotional heartbeat of the film, punctuated by moments of warmth and humor that shine against the bleakness of their struggles. Uurtsaikh’s performance is mesmerizing, embodying Ulzii’s quiet determination and vulnerability with remarkable authenticity.
The film’s visual storytelling is equally compelling. Cinematographer Davaanyam Delgerjargal captures the stark dichotomies of modern Mongolia with striking precision. From the cozy clutter of the family yurt to the gleaming urban skyline, each frame reflects the societal push and pull that mirrors Ulzii’s internal conflict. The juxtaposition of tradition and progress—traditional remedies performed in sleek city apartments or neon-green sneakers glowing in a dim yurt—highlights the complexities of a country in transition without ever feeling forced or heavy-handed.
Adding to the film’s evocative atmosphere is Johanni Curtet’s innovative score, which blends traditional throat singing with contemporary elements like beatboxing and plaintive strings. The music serves as a metaphor for Mongolia’s identity crisis, enhancing the film’s emotional resonance while grounding it in cultural specificity. This fusion of the old and the new underscores the broader themes of adaptation and survival, enriching the narrative without overpowering it.
If Only I Could Hibernate is a triumph of storytelling that balances the personal and political with rare grace. Purevdash’s direction is both empathetic and assured, making this debut a milestone not only for Mongolian cinema but also for global audiences seeking stories that transcend borders. This is a film that lingers long after the credits roll, reminding us of the resilience of the human spirit and the power of dreams to light the darkest winters.
(This review contains spoilers.)
"I feel I am going to be defeated by everything if I cry."
If Only I Could Hibernate is a powerful and deeply humanistic debut from Mongolian filmmaker Zoljargal Purevdash that captures the heartache and hope of a young boy navigating a world of economic hardship and cultural transition. Set against the backdrop of Ulaanbaatar’s frigid winters, the film explores universal themes of resilience, family, and the pursuit of dreams while immersing viewers in the uniquely Mongolian experience of balancing tradition and modernity. With a gentle touch and an unflinching eye for detail, Purevdash crafts a story that is as intimate as it is universally resonant.
At its core is 15-year-old Ulzii, portrayed with raw charisma by newcomer Battsooj Uurtsaikh. Ulzii’s journey is one of quiet heroism: a gifted physics student with aspirations for a brighter future, he is weighed down by the relentless demands of caring for his siblings after his mother returns to agricultural work in the countryside. The tenderness of their sibling bond provides the emotional heartbeat of the film, punctuated by moments of warmth and humor that shine against the bleakness of their struggles. Uurtsaikh’s performance is mesmerizing, embodying Ulzii’s quiet determination and vulnerability with remarkable authenticity.
The film’s visual storytelling is equally compelling. Cinematographer Davaanyam Delgerjargal captures the stark dichotomies of modern Mongolia with striking precision. From the cozy clutter of the family yurt to the gleaming urban skyline, each frame reflects the societal push and pull that mirrors Ulzii’s internal conflict. The juxtaposition of tradition and progress—traditional remedies performed in sleek city apartments or neon-green sneakers glowing in a dim yurt—highlights the complexities of a country in transition without ever feeling forced or heavy-handed.
Adding to the film’s evocative atmosphere is Johanni Curtet’s innovative score, which blends traditional throat singing with contemporary elements like beatboxing and plaintive strings. The music serves as a metaphor for Mongolia’s identity crisis, enhancing the film’s emotional resonance while grounding it in cultural specificity. This fusion of the old and the new underscores the broader themes of adaptation and survival, enriching the narrative without overpowering it.
If Only I Could Hibernate is a triumph of storytelling that balances the personal and political with rare grace. Purevdash’s direction is both empathetic and assured, making this debut a milestone not only for Mongolian cinema but also for global audiences seeking stories that transcend borders. This is a film that lingers long after the credits roll, reminding us of the resilience of the human spirit and the power of dreams to light the darkest winters.
