Becoming a Hero: ‘To Kill a Mongolian Horse’ in Venice Days Feature

In the Mongolian premiere “To Kill a Mongolian Horse,” the journey to becoming a hero is not instantaneous. It’s particularly evident for those dazzling audiences at popular horse shows.

“I am a local — I grew up on this land. Still, every time I watch these shows, I get emotional. They are stunning, but after a while I started to pay attention to the performers as well,” says debuting director Jiang Xiaoxuan.

Jiang’s curiosity led her backstage.

“They had to dress up and put on all this makeup to become heroic figures. It’s not something that happens naturally. It takes time for you to put on the ‘armor.’ Even with Marvel superheroes, you see their ‘normal’ side, and then you see them in costume. But how do they put them on?” Jiang explains.

Inspired by real-life events and her friend Saina — who eventually played the lead — Jiang decided to craft a story about a Mongolian horseman turned performer, struggling to save his ranch. Meanwhile, the mother of his child wishes for him to secure a more traditional job.

“My friend had to make similar choices to make money and find his place in society. It felt so relatable,” Jiang shares.

Jiang found herself at a crossroads in her own filmmaking career.

“I was wondering how I can make the films I want to make while maintaining a sustainable, healthy career. Some friends started making commercials for money. It’s a struggle of deciding whether to keep pursuing something that gives you no returns. I was also nearing the age where many Asian parents ask: ‘When are you going to get married?’

The film, selected for the Venice Days section and produced by Zhulin Mo for Da Huang Pictures, is a co-production between Malaysia, the U.S., Hong Kong, Korea, and Japan. Pluto Film handles sales.

“We made it with a very low budget. We worked on a tight schedule and used nonprofessionals, which turned out to be a great idea. If we needed a blizzard for a dream sequence, we waited for an actual blizzard,” Jiang notes.

Jiang acknowledges that financial constraints post-COVID have limited such films.

“There’s less money available. Not everyone has access to international funding or feels comfortable communicating in English. But my team does. We really tried to be present at all these markets.”

While Jiang fought for her film, her protagonist seems less proactive, urged to step up for his child.

“I call it passive resistance, which can be quite funny. He’s in a transitional period without much agency. Outside these shows, he’s not part of a grandiose ‘Mongolian hero journey.’ When he finally does something unexpected, it feels like you’re in the audience, and the actor breaks the fourth wall,” she says.

Despite disappointments, he’s never truly alone: his horse is always by his side.

“It was never about explicitly showing how much he loves his horse. I just wanted this animal to be part of his life and reflect his current state. The horse is aging and no longer useful — neither is his way of life. They are both misfits made for each other.”

“White horses have special spiritual meaning for the Mongolian people. They also look great on screen!”