Of all the ghosts drifting the streets of Ulaanbaatar in Sengedorj Janchivdorj's "Silent City Driver," the most haunting is "Myagmar" (Tuvshinbayar Amartuvshin), a man so severed from the world he's a specter in his own life. The city itself is practically a co-star; shot by Enkhbayar Enkhtur, it feels like a late-night drive through a place that's half-dream, half-nightmare. It's got the grit of "Yi'nan Diao," the deadpan empathy of "Aki Kaurismäki," and a pinch of "Mengqiao Li," but it carves its own path.
The film opens with Myagmar at a bus stop, introducing himself, only for a camel to take his place when he boards. It's a slick metaphor that keeps resurfacing and you'll puzzle over it till the end. Myagmar, scarred by a 14-year prison stint for manslaughter that left him with a stutter and brain damage, lives in a grim shack, sleeping in a cardboard box punched with air holes like he's still caged. His sleep's wrecked, haunted by a past that boomerangs back. His loneliness seeps into every frame.
Three figures crack his shell: first, a pack of stray dogs he cares for, showing quiet compassion. Then, "Sodoo," a gentle, sandwich-offering young Buddhist monk. Their pep talks, especially under a tree with shifting green light, are philosophical oases digging into revenge, forgiveness, and atonement. The third is "Saruul" (Narantsetseg Ganbaatar), daughter of a blind coffin maker, lights candles in his gloom. Myagmar's romantic fixation feels undercooked. He watches her from the shadows like "Travis Bickle," projecting salvation onto someone too broken to deliver. Unlike Travis's doomed obsession with "Betsy," Myagmar's feelings for Saruul lack depth. Tied to the city's corruption as a victim of a mafia scheme, Saruul is more symbol than fully realized character, making their dynamic intriguing but not quite affecting. You're left wanting more, especially since she seems to envy Myagmar's life, wanting to switch places and unaware he's already in his own inferno.
Another companion is his phone. He upgrades from an old "Nokia" to a smartphone, a small stab at joining the world. His music moments, perched atop the capital at night, earphones in, lost in the glow and sound, are pure vibes.
The soundtrack nails it, especially "Serge Gainsbourg"'s "Comme un boomerang." It becomes a leitmotif for Myagmar's past crashing back. His side gig as a sculptor is a fascinating thread that's underexplored. His hands craft beautiful stone lions, this creator-destroyer duality is rich but not fully tapped.
I was all in for the ending, a meditative closure that feels true to the film's Buddhist undertones. But a caveat, if you nitpick or crave stone-cold realism, you might raise an eyebrow.
In the end, "Silent City Driver" is Sengedorj Janchivdorj's best work yet. It's a gorgeous ride that dives into its hero's darkness, blending noir and spirituality. Check it out if you're down for a moody character trip through Ulaanbaatar's shadows.
