The Conqueror: Hollywood Fallout

It is tempting to say the notorious Howard Hughes-produced epic The Conqueror “bombed,” but much like Waterworld, it actually did decent box office when it initially opened. However, Hughes did not see any profits when you factor in what he spent on marketing. Of course, it is not like any of that money came out of the pocket of its iconic star, John Wayne, but tragically, he was one of many cast- and crew-members who contracted cancer years after making the dubious movie. Filmmaker William Nunez chronicles the film’s controversial history in The Conqueror: Hollywood Fallout, which releases this Friday in theaters and on-demand.

Ironically, the location shoot near St. George, Utah was quite pleasant for both the local community and their Hollywood visitors. Unfortunately, the area was closely downwind from the nuclear testing grounds in Nevada. That was probably something Hughes and the studio executives should have thought more about at the time.

Apparently, they were too busy making bad cinematic decisions. Even though there was little criticism of “yellowface” casting at the time, having Wayne portray Temujin, a.k.a. Genghis Khan, was still quite the head-scratcher. Oscar Millard’s pretentiously “elevated”-sounding screenplay did not do Wayne, or the film itself, any favors. Plus, actor Dick Powell was clearly hired to direct because he was happy to defer to Hughes, rather than assert his authority or judgment.

Roughly the first half of Hollywood Fallout serves up some fascinating and rather bittersweet Hollywood history. Sadly, but inevitably, the film takes a grim turn as the residents of St. George start contracting cancer at suspiciously high rates. When they notice how many of their old Hollywood guests were also stricken with suspiciously high rates of cancer, they start putting the pieces together.

Nunez and his interview subjects convincingly indict the now-defunct U.S. Atomic Energy Commission for its callous and contemptuous disregard for average Americans’ safety. (Nolan’s Oppenheimer does not make them look so great, either.) They were dissolved in 1975, with most of their duties absorbed by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.

Echoes of the Empire: Beyond Genghis Khan

Today, you can find the name “Genghis Khan” everywhere throughout modern Mongolia. He sits magnificently astride the monumental equestrian statue erected in 2008, which has quickly become one of the nation’s top-drawing (and literally biggest) tourist attractions. Yet, during its years as satellite-state of the Soviet Union, Genghis Khan was demonized in propaganda and banished from public discourse. A lot of good change came quickly to Mongolia, but the nation is still struggling to process subsequent social upheavals. Director-cinematographer-co-producer Robert H. Lieberman chronicles Mongolia’s glorious history and examines its future challenges in Echoes of Empire: Beyond Genghis Khan, which opens in select theaters this Friday.

Ironically, everything bad you might think about Genghis Khan (a.k.a. Temujin) is largely the result of Communist disinformation. Yes, he was a conqueror of kingdoms, whose empire spanned three times the territory Alexander the Great controlled at his peak. However, as he incorporated new people into his empire, he extended to them rights they never had. Arguably, Genghis Khan “invented” the right of religious liberty, as we know it today. He also forbade the kidnapping of women and established an early form of diplomatic immunity.

Yet, the Communist regime jealousy suppressed celebration of the Mongolian national hero. (For comparable hypotheticals of a nation erasing its cultural-historical legacy, imagine the United Kingdom trying to cancel King Arthur, or America forbidding mention of George Washington, neither of which quite captures the scope of the Communist Party’s negation of Genghis Khan.)

One historical episode explained in the film that has particular resonance for our world today came relatively early in Genghis Khan’s career of conquest, when the Uyghur people sent an emissary, inviting his invasion of their lands, in order to liberate them from their oppressors. It came as a surprise to the Mongol leader, but he obliged.

The film also archly observes how many commissars from the early Communist era met suspiciously premature demises—and openly invites the audience to make the obvious conclusions. Even more fundamentally, when watching Lieberman’s film, viewers will be immediately struck but the sensitive geographic position Mongolia occupies, as a functioning democracy nestled between China and Russia.

It is pretty clear Mongolia is a country Americans should be thinking about much more than we are. Although Mongolians have pretty forcefully repudiated the Twentieth Century Communist era (the 130-foot Genghis Khan memorial says so, loud and clear), they still have to maintain cordial relations with Russia. They also have considerable cultural ties, having adopted Russian tastes in opera and ballet, to a surprising extent, as Lieberman and company vividly illustrate.

Furthermore, Americans can well relate to Mongolia’s current struggles with increased urbanization and a widening gap between the city life of Ulaanbaatar (UB) and the traditional way of life on the steppe. Lieberman takes viewers into the gers (or yurts) of traditional herders, which look warm and cozy on the steppe. However, he also illustrates the downsides to coal-heated ger-living in the urban tent-cities of nomads who have been recently force to relocate to UB.

Philip K. Dick ’16: Genghis Khan Conquers the Moon (short)

Genghis Khan conquered more territory than Alexander the Great and often topped “Man of the Millennium” polls. If you doubt his lasting influence on today’s world, go ask a Mongolian about it. It turns out, he was even the first man to set foot on the moon, but he has some rather magical-mystical help in Kerry Yang’s short film Genghis Khan Conquers the Moon (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 Philip K. Dick Film Festival in New York.

In the twilight of his life, the great Khan had little left to conquer (just little pieces of China, here and there that would be left to his grandson, Kublai). Yet, he hears reports of a defiant alchemist, so he makes haste to assert his authority. Although outwardly subservient, the alchemist does not seem to be kowtowing on the inside. In fact, he knows what the great Khan needs and where he can find. That would either be a new world ripe for conquest or tranquility, a whole sea of it, in fact.

How cool is it to see veteran Asian American actors Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa and James Hong as co-leads in a film? Granted, neither is Mongolian, but so be it. Tagawa has all the right grit for the great Khan and Hong is as slyly charismatic as ever as the cerebral alchemist. Frankly, the film is far more spiritual and symbolic than typical genre films, which makes it pleasantly ambitious.

However, the warmongering depiction of the Millennial Man is not entirely fair. After all, he abolished torture, established religious freedom and cut taxes on doctors, teachers, and clergy in the lands that fell under his control (at least according to the Rubin Museum and they ought to know).

Regardless, Yang and cinematographers Noah Kistler and Guan Xi compose some absolutely arresting images. Somehow they take us past the fantastical into the realm of the hyper-real. It is lovely to look at and quite a strange (in a welcome way) addition to the growing Genghis Khan film canon. (Keep in mind, Tagawa has now joined John Wayne in the elite company of actors who have played Temujin.) Recommended for those who appreciate science fiction with a mystical flavor, Genghis Khan Conquers the Moon screens as part of a short film block this Friday (1/15) at the Cinema Village, during this year’s Philip K. Dick Film Festival.

Mongol from Kazakhstan

The Academy rules for what constitutes a foreign language film are sometimes controversial, but a film from Kazakhstan, by a Russian director, about Mongolia’s national hero, evidently qualified. That film, Mongol, the surprise best foreign language nominee, opens today in New York (trailer here).

If screening Mongol without the opening credits, one could easily be convinced it was a new subtitled blood-and-guts historical from Mel Gibson. Despite its exotic lineage, it has the elements of a traditional epic. The young Temudgin loses his father, but swears vengeance against his killer. He develops a Kane and Abel relationship with his childhood blood brother and future rival. Though often separated from his wife by the machinations of his enemies, he always finds her again, often pregnant with another dead husband lying at her feet. Characters from his past continually re-emerge to foretell his eventually greatness. Of course, they are not wrong, as Temudgin would eventually be known as Chinggis (or Genghis) Khan. Director Sergei Bodrov’s Mongol chronicles his early life, filling in some historical gaps with its own fictional speculation.

During the Soviet occupation, the Communists vilified the Mongolian hero, fearing his power as unifying symbol. (In 1962, they briefly flip-flopped on their anti-Khan propanganda, trying co-opt his national prestige.) Oddly, many in the west adopted Soviet characterizations of Chinggis Khan as a blood-thirsty savage, but his rule has been credited by scholars as the first anywhere to establish religious tolerance, women’s rights, the abolition torture, and lower tax rates for doctors, clergy, and teachers. To the pride of Mongolians, Khan was dubbed the “Man of the Millennium” by the Washington Post.

Some of the best scenes of Mongol show the seeds of Khan’s grand vision for a modern Mongolia in early germination. However, the film is really about sweeping historical drama, with many of scenes of armies clashing on the wind-swept steppe. There is plenty of hack-and-slash in Mongol, but action fans might feel cheated when the film’s mysticism trumps battle carnage.

Most of the Mongols in Mongol are played by Mongolians, but Japanese actor Tadanobu Asano plays Temudgin and Chinese actor Honglei Sun plays his one-time friend, Jamukha, with villainous relish. Probably the best performance comes from first-time Mongolian actor Khulan Chuluun as Temudgin’s resilient first wife and true love Borte. In many respects, Mongol is an old fashion epic love story, but it is a film Hollywood could not make these days because they do not have any young actors manly enough to play Temudgin.

Bodrov’s previous work includes co-scripting East/West, a critical examination of the Stalinist era. In a way, making Mongol can be seen as a further rejection of the Communist propaganda Bodrov grew up under. Granted, the constant parade of sufferings to be born gets exhausting, but the Twelfth Century was pretty much one darned thing after another. While sometimes the mysticism is laid on a little heavy, Bodrov keeps the action moving along at a good clip, showing a particular talent for grit and gore. It opens today in New York at the Landmark Sunshine.

Come for the Dalai Lama, Stay for Genghis Khan

The Missing Peace: Artists Consider the Dalai Lama recently opened at The Rubin Museum of Art in Clesea. Unfortunately, the Chinese will not be able to read a review of the exhibition here, because this site is now being blocked. (That was fast.) What you will see if you go to the Rubin is an uneven exhibit that takes far too much thematic latitude.

If you are expected a great deal of Dalai Lama portraiture, you might be disappointed. There is certainly some, and frankly it represents the best of the show. Chase Bailey’s “Evolution into a Manifestation” uses bold colors in its modernistic depiction. Some “portraits” were more cerebral, like Ken Aptekar’s “I Saw the Figure Five in Gold,” a cool “reincarnation” of Charles Demuth famous numeral painting of William Carlos Williams. There were some representations that were just weird like Sylvie Fleury’s “Kirlian” aura photography, produced from an old pair of his Holiness’ shoes. Even the Dalai Lama himself may have found that a little out there, as the exhibit card notes, when informed of the work: “he chuckled and noted that the shoes had been resoled several times and that the resulting aura might well be that of his cobbler.”

The work included for addressing themes related to the Dalai Lama, filed under headings like Tibet, Belief Systems, Humanity in Transition, and Empathy & Compassion, tended to be a mixed bag. Of course there is a predictably clichéd anti-Bush, anti-Iraq War piece from Tom Nakashima. There is a powerful take on Mao’s barbarism from Tenzing Rigdol titled “Brief History of Tibet,” which depicts the Chairman’s two-faced nature: the placid public mask and “the artist’s perception of Mao’s actual face, wrathful and demonic.” Of course the piece is labeled anti-war, rather than anti-Communist.

There is a virtual tour available, corresponding to the California leg of the traveling exhibit. It does not match the Rubin’s lay out, on the fourth, fifth, and basement levels of the museum. If you do go (free admission after 7:00 Fri.) definitely check out Mongolia: Beyond Chinggis Khan, which offers a somewhat revisionist look at the Mongol leader better known as Genghis.

The exhibit signage makes a compelling case for Khan, as someone who abolished torture, established religious freedom, and repealed taxes for doctors, clergy, and teachers. Whenever he expanded his rule to new lands it seemed a cultural renaissance followed shortly thereafter. Of course during Soviet control of Mongolia, the Communists launched a propaganda campaign against Khan, a Mongol national hero who represented a symbolic threat to their misrule. In 1962 they flip-flopped on their anti-Khan campaign, presumably trying to co-opt his national prestige. The exhibit includes relatively recent photos of Mongolia, including one of a 1962 monument to Khan the Communists built to mark the presumed 800th anniversary of his birth. Now the Communists are gone and the Mongolians openly celebrate Khan.

It seems perverse that in the west, we have largely accepted the attacks against Khan by the Communists and Middle Eastern states that have held a historical grudge against him. He was even portrayed by John Wayne in The Conqueror (1956), which should be enough street cred for any great historical figure.