The Story Of The Weeping Camel: well the certificate was correct. There was indeed a scene of an animal giving birth. Which was, and I don’t think I am spoiling this for anyone, a camel. However the weeping is a bit of a misnomer, as with the sandstorms in the Gobi Desert it appears that all the camels have a bit of a cry every now and then. And good luck to them, considering they wander around with chopsticks rammed up their noses.
Forget the argument about its place as a scripted or ethnographic film. This is a fairy tale good and proper. Stuffed to the gills with cutesy animals, and forigN folkways. Sweet as a nut in my opinion, though this was not necessarily the opinion of everyone in the cinema with me. Behind me I had the girl who seemed to be going for the world sneezing fit record, who managed to sneeze at minute intervals throughout the entire film. In front of me was a bloke who, after about twenty minutes, started playing solitaire on his PDA. The shiny screen distracted me to I asked him to put it away. He just tutted and moved. You would think it was raining outside or something. It was enough to make me cry, let alone the camel.