Expanded from a short film, Colors of White Rock is a visually stunning documentary about Maikhuu Sengee's life as a truck driver in Mongolia. Extending back to pre-Covid days, it provides a fascinating look into a harsh but beautiful world.
Director and primary cinematographer Khoroldorj Choijoovanchig (aka Hogo) grew up in Mongolia. He knows enough about the country to pinpoint exactly what we should see, from seemingly limitless horizons to dusty grey trailer camps. It's an unforgiving environment that can be stunningly beautiful.
The middle-aged Maikhuu, the central character, is a real find, hard-boiled but funny, persistent in a notoriously macho profession, and with an indomitable drive no matter what's thrown at her. Hogo spent years with her, in her truck and at home with her family. The long time together pays off in scenes of heart-breaking intimacy.
When the documentary starts, Maikhuu is divorced and homeless. She takes a job as a coal truck driver because it pays four times more than other work. She ignores sharp pains from a previous accident. There is no health care, no medical insurance. "We are invisible," she says.
White Rock is a settlement a dozen or so miles from the border with China. Truckers can be stuck there for weeks, "waiting in the middle of nowhere" for customs officials to let them through. At the coal handling facility, a giant Quonset hut, Maikhuu unloads her load by herself.
Scenes in the Mongolian capital Ulaanbaatar show Maikhuu with her children and sister. The city is blanketed by a dingy, yellow haze. Maikhuu runs up bills while working as a taxi driver. She's eleven weeks pregnant when her boyfriend leaves her.
Despite her poor health, Maikhuu has no choice but to return to hauling coal. She drives past fatal accidents, stops to cook improvised meals, pays for a mechanic to replace a shredded tire. In one searing moment, she breaks into tears, asking, "Why is this happening to me?"
The doc follows cinema verité tradition guidelines, allowing the settings' disastrous pollution, the coal drivers' black lungs and other medical issues, to emerge unforced. The drivers can't stop to complain; they have to finish their work no matter what. Scenes of trucks on the road are astonishing.
The film suffers from some pacing issues, and Hogo could be clearer about the timeline. But Colors of White Rock is consistently engrossing, a view into an unfathomable world where people share the same problems we have.
Normally I dislike drone camerawork, but the vast landscapes here almost require that kind of bird's-eye view. How else to show truck convoys extending for miles over the Gobi Desert? Or an entire ridge dynamited for its coal?
Hogo isn't afraid to push his digital cameras: some nighttime interiors are too dark for the camera to register images properly. The swirling, ghostly shots of Maikhuu in her cab are a nightmare brought to life.
The film enjoys its world premiere at the 2026 Tribeca Festival. It screens again today and tomorrow. Visit the film's page at the official festival site for more information.