When an extroverted college student suffers an injury--she slips on a banana peel and breaks her leg--a quiet, engineering schoolmate ends up working in a sex shop to cover for her in this deadpan Mongolian comedy.
Considering that they barely know each other, the request takes Saruul (winsome newcomer Bayarjargal Bayartsetseg) by surprise, but Namuuna (Bayarmaa Khuselbaatar) believes she's the only student she can trust to keep things on the down low. Enticed by the pay and eager for something to spice up her stale routine, Saruul accepts the offer, and Namuuna introduces her to the shop's wares, including blow-up dolls and skimpy maid's uniforms, leaving her more dazed than shocked.
Next Saruul meets intimidating shop owner Katya (theater actress Oidovjamts Enkhtuul with stylish streaks of silver hair), a Russia-obsessed entrepreneur who relaxes by fishing, listening to Pink Floyd, and building ships out of Legos--director Janchivdorj Sengedor never explains her interest in Russia, but it fits her larger-than-life personality. Feeding her Siamese cat, The Boy, is part of the gig. The film's menagerie also includes Bim, a Saint Bernard belonging to a handsome neighbor.
During their time together, Katya encourages her new worker's independence when she finds that she's majoring in a field chosen by her parents, though it's clear she would rather be an artist. Whenever she isn't looking after her younger brother, fetching tea for her father, or working at the family market stall, she paints on a hidden canvas and draws in a sketchbook.
Though personal questions and rude comments fail to rattle Saruul's calm demeanor, she considers quitting when a customer forces himself on her and then again when she gets caught in a raid at a sex hotel. Katya, who becomes a combination mentor and life coach, encourages her to stick it out, though Saruul is less than thrilled by her bouts of insensitivity. In some ways their relationship recalls the push and pull of the young writer and the older comedian on the HBO Max comedy-drama Hacks.
At 123 minutes, The Sales Girl is longer than necessary, but it's never dull. It's possible that the White Blessing director took inspiration from Alan Price's musical performances in Lindsay Anderson's O Lucky Man, because Magnolian, aka Dulguun Bayasgalan, does much the same here, and whenever Saruul puts on her headphones, it's his music she hears. His breezy pop, which recalls British troubadour Richard Hawley, adds to the unhurried vibe--and also helps to explain the film's length.
It isn't often that Mongolian films make their way to the West, and Janchivdorj Sengedorj's 14th feature offers a drily amusing introduction to life in modern Ulaanbaatar with an appealingly off-kilter tone that recalls the work of Finland's Aki Kaurismäki and New Zealand's Taika Waititi. As befits the subject matter, the sex talk can be frank and there's a little female nudity, but The Sales Girl avoids raunchiness in favor of an open-minded, non-judgmental approach to sexuality and self-determination.
What kind of film collection would this title be suitable for?
The Sales Girl belongs in academic and public libraries with other Asian, international, and comedy titles.
What kind of film series would this narrative fit in?
Theater, television, and feature director Janchivdorj Sengedor's comedy, which made a splash at film festivals in Asia, Australia, and the United States, would fit with film series on Mongolian cinema and East Asian films in the post-millennial era.
What type of library programming could use this title?
Library programming on East Asian cinema would find an enjoyable, eye-opening selection in The Sales Girl, especially since most other films set in Mongolia revolve around mountain-climbing and infamous Mongol conqueror Genghis Khan.
What are the pricing options for the DVD, Blu-ray, and licensing rights of the film (including PPR and DRL)?
DVD: $150, Blu-ray: $150, PPR: $350, DRL: $499, PPR+DRL: $599.00