16/09/2024 - Hybrid documentarian Gabrielle Brady’s ode to loss is a touching, collaborative effort set in rural Mongolia

What’s a herder without his animals? This rhetorical question whispered in the comfort of the family ger (a Mongolian nomadic tent) cuts right through The Wolves Always Come at Night, Australian director Gabrielle Brady’s sophomore feature, premiering in Toronto’s Platform strand. It’s also a question posed by and directed at Daava (Davaasuren Dagvasuren), a young man who anticipates a big life change for himself and his family: his wife Zaya (Otgonzaya Dashzeveg) and their children. In line with her hybrid, collaborative approach, Brady worked together with the two of them, offering them a way to tell their story by sharing the unspeakable grief for what they have lost in cinematic form.

Fifteen years ago, Brady was working as a TV producer with the Mongolian national broadcaster, staying with herding families in the countryside. There, she heard stories about the region’s wolves, dual figures encompassing both respected animal and predator, posing a threat to people’s livelihoods. Like in the fables, the wolves in her second film are not exactly what one would expect. The Wolves Always Come at Night depicts a severe sandstorm (a dzud) that robs Daava and Zaya of their lifeline, their secure relationship with the land and the generations-long tradition of herding that has always kept them grounded, in an almost sacred way. In the film’s middle section, the family opts to relocate to the city for work, a decision made with a heavy heart, and the sorrow it brings is felt through the screen. Glorious long shots of the desert, calm and stormy, and slow pans invite us to breathe these images in, so we can miss them too, just like the characters do.

As a result of this, the family moves from the seemingly endless Bayankhongor to the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar, where a ger district is slowly forming, a yurt settlement for many former herders, with no electricity. Now they have to adapt to the new environment, where the concrete of nearby walls seems so harsh a presence when shown up close. Climate change bears a direct responsibility for these waves of urban migration in Mongolia, and while the film testifies to that in its powerful documentary form, the artistic elements of it – the stunning cinematography, and the subtle use of music and sound – bring the audience closer to the lived experiences of one family. No wonder Dagvasuren and Dashzeveg are among the film’s co-writers together with Brady, and Michael Latham’s camerawork wonderfully matches the landscapes’ textures and scale.

Brady’s first feature, Island of the Hungry Ghosts [+see also:
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film profile], was already a strong calling card, winning awards at Tribeca, Visions du Réel and IDFA, among others. It’s wonderful to see the director follow up on her commitments to creative collaboration with people – never just documentary “subjects” – and allowing space for them to transform their emotions and their quiet loss into audiovisual language, both in front of the camera and as co-writers.

The Wolves Always Come at Night was produced by Guru Media (Mongolia), Over Here Productions (Australia) and Germany’s Chromosom Film. Its world sales are handled by Cinephil.