Set on the edge of the Mongolian desert, THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL tells a deceptively simple tale while examining a way of life that is coming to an end. It focuses on four generations of a nomadic Mongolian family of sheepherders, dwellers in igloo-shaped tents called yurts that have brightly coloured interiors and sturdily resilient exteriors. The family is close knit, respectful of one another, and seeming to possess an inner peace that seems mockingly unattainable to us in the frenetic, materialistic western world. With no mod cons, they entertain each other by singing songs and telling tales and playing simple games, and all generations of the family gather to eat their meals at a table. Relying on camels for transportation, the family work hard to assist a first-time mother complete a particularly difficult (and graphically filmed) birth. The white colt that finally emerges, however, is shunned by its mother and doomed to a lingering death if the family cannot persuade the mother to allow him to suckle.
This is one of those films that slyly draws you in. Initially, I wondered how such a story would ever keep me absorbed for its running time, and then it seemed as if the final credits were rolling. Billed as a 'narrative documentary', it's in the mould of Robert Flaherty's silent classic NANOOK OF THE NORTH, using real Mongol nomads to effectively play themselves in a planned story. It's a practice that, in this case, works particularly well. The action such as it is - always looks natural and unforced, even when it concentrates on two of the family's young children and their trip to the 'big city', and you half expect David Attenborough's hushed tones to chime in at any moment. Even when there's nothing much going on, the movie is never anything less than beautiful to look at, narrative and dialogue are frequently put on hold as we are treated to richly detailed studies of shimmering mountain sunsets, the play of the wind in sand dunes, and even the seamed and aged faces of the eldest members of the family. The plight of the colt is portrayed as merely a problem that needs to be solved, and is touchingly told without resorting to sentimentality or tear-jerking melodrama. And there is a curious beauty buried deep within these comically designed beasts that is effectively captured when we see them entranced by the music of the wind playing through the strings of a violin.
The difficult relationship between mother and colt contrasts with the harmonious relationship between the human members of the family, and the creeping influence of television and consumerism contrasts with the simple way of life the family leads. That last jarring shot outside the family's yurt really is a something of a sad image with which to leave us, arousing feelings of anxiety for the future of such a gentle society and for the past they are leaving behind.
This is one of those films that slyly draws you in. Initially, I wondered how such a story would ever keep me absorbed for its running time, and then it seemed as if the final credits were rolling. Billed as a 'narrative documentary', it's in the mould of Robert Flaherty's silent classic NANOOK OF THE NORTH, using real Mongol nomads to effectively play themselves in a planned story. It's a practice that, in this case, works particularly well. The action such as it is - always looks natural and unforced, even when it concentrates on two of the family's young children and their trip to the 'big city', and you half expect David Attenborough's hushed tones to chime in at any moment. Even when there's nothing much going on, the movie is never anything less than beautiful to look at, narrative and dialogue are frequently put on hold as we are treated to richly detailed studies of shimmering mountain sunsets, the play of the wind in sand dunes, and even the seamed and aged faces of the eldest members of the family. The plight of the colt is portrayed as merely a problem that needs to be solved, and is touchingly told without resorting to sentimentality or tear-jerking melodrama. And there is a curious beauty buried deep within these comically designed beasts that is effectively captured when we see them entranced by the music of the wind playing through the strings of a violin.
The difficult relationship between mother and colt contrasts with the harmonious relationship between the human members of the family, and the creeping influence of television and consumerism contrasts with the simple way of life the family leads. That last jarring shot outside the family's yurt really is a something of a sad image with which to leave us, arousing feelings of anxiety for the future of such a gentle society and for the past they are leaving behind.