On Blu-ray/DVD: Iceland's Foreign Language Film submission, Grímur Hákonarson's RAMS

Though lauded with critical hosannas (95% critic-positive on Rotten Tomatoes), RAMS, the supposed "deadpan comedy" that was Iceland's entry into the BFLF Oscar race, didn't make even the Academy's shortlist this past year. It's an odd film, all right, and although he realizes that comedy, especially, is a matter of taste, TrustMovies must admit that he laughed only once during the course of the entire movie -- at a scene involving a very heavy piece of farming machinery depositing its current load at the entrance to the local hospital.

The rest of the time, TM just sat there, not uninterested, but waiting for something, anything, perhaps that other shoe, to finally drop. As written and directed by Grímur Hákonarson, shown at left, what surprised me most about Rams was how obvious the film is as to where it is going and what it will expect of its audience -- all of which is very nearly assured from the opening couple of scenes. Very quickly we learn how important sheep farming is to this little country, and also that some of said sheep are sick unto death, probably via a greatly-feared infection called "scrapie." We also meet the two brothers -- old men who've not spoken in 40 years and yet farm sheep on large plots of land immediately adjacent to each other.

This is dead serious subject matter, and as written and directed by Mr. Hákonarson it is played more seriously than humorously. And not only by the two actors who plays the brothers -- Sigurður Sigurjónsson, as Gummi, and Theodór Júlíusson as Kiddi , shown above, with Kiddi on the left -- but by all the other performers who essay townspeople, farmers, veterinarians, police and so forth.

The tone here is very dry, however, as befits deadpan, but the incidents that pile up are not particularly believable and grow less so as the movie moves along (sheep illegally hidden away in the basement, bleating their hearts out and being overheard by a newcomer who is told -- and buys this -- that the sounds are being made by cats).

On the plus side are some lovely landscapes (verdant in summer and snowy in winter), perfectly valid performances, and the very idea of sheep farming and what it means to the local community -- which is brought home quite well, whether you perceive all this as comic or no.

By the finale we've gone through the entire expected scenario -- from the deadpan/barely-existing/would-be laughs to the farcical elements to the inevitable moments expected to move us. I might have been moved, but this film has such an utterly "manufactured" quality about it that I couldn't rise to the occasion. Perhaps you will; god knows, most of our critical establishment have.

From Cohen Media Group and running a mere 93 minutes, the movie makes its Blu-ray and DVDebut this coming Tuesday, June 28 -- for purchase or rental. Better than the film, I felt, were the DVD extras, in which the filmmaker give a very short interview in which he explains that he really wanted to credit all the individual sheep because they were that good (they are!).  Also included is a choice little short film that Hákonarson made back in 2007 entitled Wrestling, which features an odd Icelandic combination of wrestling plus dance moves and involves a love story between the two major wrestlers that plays out, again, in deadpan style. It's worth seeing. 

SWEETGRASS -- the Sheep, Prarie and Mountain doc -- opens at Film Forum

Sheep, bless 'em, are all over the place in SWEETGRASS, the new documentary by Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Ilisa Barbash, which is all about herding, driv-
ing, birthing, shear-
ing, protecting, feed-
ing and otherwise caring for the woolly beasts. You'll never have imagined that sheep could be so fascinating, charming, funny and beautiful to watch and listen to (oh, the bleating!).

For awhile. And then...
Not so much.

Fortunately, there are other points of interest in this somewhat (even at only 101 minutes) overlong film that may prove of more interest to the anthropologically inclined than to the typical film buff. Along the way, however, there is some stunning photography, as well as the occasional unforgettable shot. (I think I may always remember the sheep -- what looks like thousands of them --

moseying down the center of some small-town
main street.)

More than anything else, however, the film unintentionally has me asking a question: Has narration simply been done away with in today's documentaries? Certain filmmakers, particularly those whose documen-
taries unspool over hours (Maysles and Wiseman come to mind) have the time to let their exposition unroll, with ample hours for their audience to explore and learn what is going on. (During the editing process, smart filmmakers will also know what to leave in and what to take out, so that the viewer begins to understand all that is happening.)

Shorter films, however (like this one and last week's Old Partner), often need at least a bit of explanation. And while the press kits for most movies offer reams of this, it is not available to the average moviegoer, and in any case, would be more useful during the screening or before the film is to be viewed.

Sweetgrass offers almost no narration or information except what we learn from the few very taciturn cowboys on view. Even then, it takes nearly 20 minutes of viewing before the first actual word is spoken (up to then it has all been "bleat, bleat, bleat"). We know these cowboys are driving the the huge herd somewhere and why, but surely there are so many interesting little things about the drive that we might learn and which the cowboys take for granted. But no: the filmmakers have decided to simply show and not tell. While I admire this choice in a good narrative film, it can be a frustrating one in a documentary -- to which we generally come to learn as well as enjoy.

Back to the film itself: the shots of the shearing process may take some of us back to that fine Australian movie Sunday Too Far Away, and the vistas are so drained of color in the winter that, when a roll of grass is spread out before the sheep, it almost looks like a CGI effect. As for the cowboys, the bits we see of them, because we see so little (compared with those sheep), seem to take on additional meaning. At one point one of them tells a joke about a new brain, and we can't help but think about the fate of this dying breed.

There's an awful lot of walkie-talkie usage, which must be a huge help to the men, though it bored the hell out of this viewer. And the sometimes constant bleating of the sheep grows tiring, too. (Little wonder the men camp over the next hill when possible.) One conversation on a mountaintop via cell phone, however, should surprise you. Taking place between a cowboy, nearly in tears, and his mom, this is not the buttoned-up Gary Cooper-type we've come to expect, but one sorrowful, flesh-and-blood-and-in-pain fellow.

Sweetgrass opens its two-week run at Film Forum on Wednesday, January 6. You can find additional screenings to come across the country by clicking here.