Friday, January 29, 2016
'Rams' (2015) directed by Grímur Hákonarson
Rams
is an Icelandic film about a remote community of sheep farmers. That’s maybe the most arthouse sounding summary possible, and you'd be forgiven for expecting a difficult film that will be seen by few and appreciated by less. Despite
this decidedly undynamic premise, Rams quickly proves its
worth.
The
core of the film is the fractured relationship between two elderly
brothers: Gummi (Sigurður Sigurjónsson) and Kiddi (Theodór
Júlíusson). The two share an isolated farm and haven’t spoken to
each other in 40 years. They fester resentment; on a good day they’ll blithely ignore the other’s
presence, on a bad day they're blasting each other's windows out with shotguns.
Despite this enmity, the men are bound together by the land they work
and the sheep they tend to. The opening scenes are taken up with a 'Best Ram' competition, each brother lashing their best candidate to
the back of a quad-bike and setting off for what passes for
civilisation in this wind-blasted desolation. Despite both rams being
of the same stock, Kiddi’s wins – leaving Gummi disconsolate and
miserable. He drunkenly breaks into Kiddi’s pen at night,
determined to examine the winning ram, only to discover what he
thinks are the tell-tale signs of Scrapie.
This
fatal degenerative disease can only be eradicated by slaughtering
every sheep in the valley. The loss of their livelihood spells
disaster for the community – and it’s in these troubled times
that the conflict between the two brothers comes to a head.
If your
idea of a good time is watching bearded men in woolly jumpers
miserably gazing at featureless scrubland, Rams is definitely
the film for you. Director Grímur Hákonarson makes the most of the epic scenery, peppering the film with impressive wide shots
of the glacial valley these men call home. The events of the
film encompass about half a year, so we get to see overcast summer
progress towards a gloomy freeze, climaxing with an impressively
terrifying snowstorm.
Isolated at the centre of this nothingness lie the two men’s
homes. Both are triumphs of set design, conveying grubby bachelor utilitarianism, ancient wallpaper and faded knick-knacks gazing on as a man fiercely
scrubs a sheep in his bathroom. Tiny details abound – my favourite
the uncommented on calendar on the wall circa 1978.
Similar
care shines through in Sigurjónsson and Júlíusson’s naturalistic
performances. From the moment they first casually yank a sheep about
by its horns, or roughly peel up an ewe’s lips to examine its gums, they’re completely believable as men who have spent their entire
lives around sheep. Given their isolation and hatred of one another,
long stretches of the film are spent observing their silent
reactions. With layers of thermals and big bushy beards, the
performance becomes centred on their eyes as they silently and mournfully processing
the world around them.
As events
proceed we learn why they continue to live in each other’s back
yard despite their loathing of one another. The bloodline of their
flock comes to symbolise the indefinable qualities that bind families
together in difficult times: connecting them to their ancestors,
their land and each other. The film concludes on an emotionally
complete yet disturbingly ambiguous note: though we can never know
these men’s fate, we understand them to a remarkably complete
degree.
Rams
is an impressive achievement, making firmly unglamorous subject
matter rather compelling. That said, its stately pace won’t be for
everyone – even with a scanty 90 minute run time the film takes its
sweet time getting anywhere. The world of Icelandic sheep farming
proves to be surprisingly compelling, but Hákonarson seems to be on
sadistic mission to test just how much farming minutia we can handle.
The
biggest obstacle is probably convincing yourself that you’re going
to settle down to watch “the Icelandic sheep farming movie”. Get
past that hurdle and you’re in for an intelligent and well
turned-out hour and a half of cinema. Rams isn’t the best
film I’ve seen about sheep-farming (that honour remains
with Shaun the Sheep), but nonetheless, it’s a tale that lodges indelibly in the mind.
An understated yet rewarding experience.
★★★★
Rams is on limited release and on demand from 5th February.
Tags:
cinema ,
film ,
grimur hakonarson ,
iceland ,
Rams
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