Here's the premise: Filmmakers accompany a blind blues musician to the small country of Tuva, just north of Mongolia, to participate in the 1995 throat-singing symposium in Kyzyl. My roommate passionately rhapsodized over it for days, yet nothing about this premise connected with me. "Lemme tell you something, pal -- I'd rather watch mute nuns performing The Sound of Music than watch these guys do their... their... their crazy throat-singing ritual!"
Continue reading: Genghis Blues Review
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