Rams

Synopsis:  In a secluded Icelandic sheep-farming valley, two brothers, Gummi (SigurðurSigurjónsson) and Kiddi (TheodórJúlíusson), live and run their respective farms side by side. Their ancestral prize-winning sheep-stock carries a rare and ancient lineage and is considered one of the country's best but, despite their success, Gummi and Kiddi haven’t spoken to each other in forty years.When Gummi finds one of Kiddi’s sheep dead, he suspects it’s a case of scrapie, a fatal disease of the nervous system. His suspicions are confirmed by Katrin (Charlotte Bøving) the local vet who declares that it can only be eradicated by destroying all the sheep in the valley. Gummi’s friend, Grimur (Gunnar Jónsson), and all the other farmers are devastated but only Kiddi holds his brother responsible. But when Gummi concocts a plan to preserve his family’s heritage, it soon becomes clear that he and his brother will need to reconcile if the plan is to be successful.

Rams is a gem of a film. One of those small unimposing stories that opens up a whole new world to us (at least to those of us who don’t farm sheep in Iceland) while managing to touch on universal themes.  The metaphor of the two brothers as rams, incessantly butting heads against each other might not be very subtle but it perfectly encapsulates the story.  Sigurjónsson and Júlíusson as Gummi and Kiddi are funny and exasperating and sad all at the same time and the rest of the cast deliver fine and very earthy performances that bring an authentic feel to their portrayal of the people of this isolated village. You feel the anguish of their situation as sharply as you feel the chill in the air but you also feel the spirit of community that might just hold them together.

Hákonarson’s screenplay is spare, witty and subtle with a minimum of dialogue (subtitled in English) and relying on a strong visual style to carry the bulk of the story. Scenes like Gummi’s simple Christmas dinner, alone and silent at the table with a can of Coke to complement his roast meat and potato and with Yuletide music playing on the phonograph reflects a sense of self-sufficiency more than one of loneliness. And the use of Kiddi’s faithful dog as the impartial go-between delivering scrolled missives between the two brothers tells us more about their obstinacy than any passage of dialogue. Hákonarson manages to bring us a richly layered tale that resists the temptation to over-explain itself. We accept and understand the feud between the brothers without needing to know why. It’s not a story about why they stopped speaking to each other; it’s a story about how they will overcome that rift.

The magnificent location is beautifully captured by cinematographer Sturlac Brandth Grøvlen, here shooting in a far more cinematic and composed style than his other great achievement this year: his remarkable single-shot for the entirety of Sebastian Schipper’s thriller, Victoria.

Of course there comes the inevitable moment when the two brothers must face each other and decide whether they can submit to a greater need than their own squabbling. Like the rest of the film, the resolution to this question is uncontrived, truthful and touching and the final shot of the film is both unexpected and incredibly moving. No wonder Rams won the Un Certain Regard prize at last year’s Cannes Film Festival.

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