This review is dedicated you — the boorish woman I encountered at the screening of this film at The Asia Society. The one who pierced its still mood not once but twice to answer her cell phone — leisurely lumbering up the staircase towards the exit, the shadowy picture of obliviousness. This slowly developing sweet-hearted film was obviously not for you. Ning Hao’s story of a trio of children who discover a ping pong ball floating in a stream is a sort of Mongolian Gods Must be Crazy as the children decide the unfamiliar plastic sphere has spiritual powers, but it ascends to a different plane. There in the remote steppes where unruly children are still beaten with the closest stick at hand and run away from home on horseback, it’s a comforting reassurance of a world that exists far from the self-indulgent irrelevancies of New Yorkers like the aforementioned cell phone lady. It emits a golden hue in sharp contrast with her aura of malignant mauve.