1965, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Tsetsegmaa Purevjav
Born in 1955
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Interviewed on January 31, 2025
By Barsbold Enkhbold
(Translated from Mongolian)
The first movie I remember watching was Tsogt Taij. I saw it as soon as I was old enough to understand. It’s a historical film about the Mongolian prince Tsogt Taij. While I don’t recall every detail of the plot, I do remember that his palace housed a vast library, which was later burned down by enemies. The ruins still remain in Dashinchilen, Bulgan Province —I’ve been there myself. Our family has stopped by a few times on road trips, and I think you (the interviewer) were even with us once.
The film featured legendary actors like Ichinkhorloo Dashzeveg and Tsegmed Tsagaan. One scene that really stuck with me was when the prince beheaded his own son for submitting to the enemy’s religion. I don’t remember all the specifics, but it was a powerful and deeply meaningful historical film.
The first places I watched movies weren’t actual theaters. I must have been in 2nd or 3rd grade when I saw Tsogt Taij, probably in Bayandelger sum, Tuv Province. I was visiting the countryside at the time. They’d hang a large white cloth on the side of a wooden building and screen the film outdoors. Since most villages didn’t have electricity, they used a small diesel generator to power the projector. The equipment was transported on ox carts, camels, or horses as they traveled from village to village. We called it нүүдлийн кино—”nomadic cinema.”
It was a communal experience. The film projectionist would collect money from the audience. Adults and children had different ticket prices—I think kids paid around 50 мөнгө (Mongolian currency). Everyone would gather to watch the film and then disperse afterward. The projectionists would travel around for a month, showing movies in different areas before returning to the main town. They would ride from house to house on horseback, spreading the word about the next screening.
Later on, probably in the mid-60s when I was in elementary school, I started going to movie theaters. My first visit to “Ard” (which means “people” in Mongolian) Theater was mesmerizing. It had so many seats, and the screen felt massive. The theater even had two screening halls. Back then, all films were in black and white. There were no widescreen films yet; they were projected in a square format. Movies came on reels that had to be changed section by section. When one reel ended, we would have an intermission while they switched to the next. Each reel was about the size of a steamer, and if I remember correctly, Tsogt Taij had 12 sections.
Soon, each district started having cultural centers where movies were screened. As technology improved, theaters started using two projectors, allowing seamless transitions between reels without intermissions.
Most screenings began with a five-minute documentary, often political news or socialist propaganda about events in Mongolia and around the world. In an era without easy access to information, these screenings served as a crucial communication platform. We primarily watched Mongolian and Russian films, but the movie I associate most with my teenage years is Hong Kil Dong. It was the first non-Mongolian, non-Russian color film I saw, and it was released while I was in middle school. Hong Kil Dong was an action-packed martial arts film—full of kicking, flipping, and rooftop chases. The fight scenes were dramatic, with the main character taking on multiple enemies at once. The cinematography was stunning, with shots of a white scarf floating against a bright blue sky.
It was a massive hit. Every theater was packed, and the lines were endless. Even though they played it every three hours, demand never went down. Boys, especially, were obsessed with it—some kids watched it over ten times! Afterward, we would all gather to talk about it, bragging about how many times we had seen it, and trying to imitate the fight moves.
During winter breaks, schools would organize movie screenings for entire classes. Since it was the socialist era, everything was structured and scheduled. So, I mainly saw movies with my classmates. I remember watching The Diamond Arm, a Soviet comedy, with my friends. It starred famous actors like Yuri Nikulin and Andrei Mironov. The film was about smuggling diamonds across the border. One particularly funny scene involved a character slipping on an orange peel, which led to a mix-up where someone mistakenly had a cast put on his arm—with the diamonds hidden inside! But when the real smuggler tried to fake a fall, no one paid attention. That mistake set off a chain of hilarious events, which is why the movie was called The Diamond Arm.
Did you have a favorite movie snack?
There were no concession stands like today. Instead, we brought snacks from home. Popular treats included 24-ийн чихэр and 12-ийн чихэр (named after their prices), Янзага cookies, and biscuits that came in packs of four. Popcorn and other modern movie snacks didn’t exist back then.
Tsetsegmaa Purevjav is my grandaunt.
