“Tuya’s Marriage” is a quiet yet powerful drama that explores the plight of one woman as she struggles to provide economic security for her family in the unforgiving Mongolian desert. Aside from the exotic setting, the landscape of complex human emotions that this film surveys is universal.
Tuya is an attractive, resilient, sensible and stubborn woman who ekes out a living herding sheep and cares for her disabled husband Batoer and two young children. She tends to a flock of 100 sheep, hauls water from a distant well twice a day, cooks, cleans and makes a mean milk tea. It’s backbreaking labor, literally, and one day she suffers a back injury while helping to lift a truck which has pinned a neighbor’s leg. Advised by a doctor to lighten her load, she chooses to divorce her husband with his consent and look for a new one -- a broad-minded fellow -- who will agree to take care of the entire family, including the ex-husband.
A parade of suitors follows, almost as many as Tuya has sheep. There is a quirky humor in the courtship rituals as each suitor arrives with his own entourage to plead his case. The first group arrives on horseback and tractor, the next via motorcycle and the last in a Mercedes-Benz, mirroring the economic hierarchy of a nation in transition as modern ways encroach upon ancient traditions. Tuya’s suitors include a former classmate made rich through oil prospecting who tries to impress her with his material wealth and a buffoonish buy loyal neighbor whose wife is always leaving him for another man. Of course, love is not the goal and it really doesn’t matter whom she chooses as long as he agrees to her terms and conditions. And make no mistake – Tuya is a survivor and will have her way.
Nevertheless, the tone remains solemn as we see the emotional turmoil that consumes Tuya’s family. Batoer attempts suicide and Tuya and her children continue to struggle with manual labor. Both the cinematography and music support the film’s melancholy tone. The camera captures austere images of the vast Mongolian steppe, revealing the harshness of the nomadic life. The haunting cello instrumentals underscore the bleak mood.
Kudos must be given to Yu Nan, the Chinese actress who portrays Tuya. Her performance is subtle yet powerfully moving, reminiscent of a young Gong Li. She imbues Tuya with a no-nonsense, tough-as-nails exterior yet we are always aware of the pain and despair lurking just below the surface.
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