‘Rams’ Review: Bent Out of Sheep

'Rams'

Movie Rating:

3.5

‘Rams’ is the undoubtedly finest film about Icelandic shepherds ever made, and will quite likely retain that title in perpetuity. Still, quiet, and deeply bizarre in ways that are both tragic and funny, writer/director Grímur Hákonarson has made something truly unique here.

Winner of the Un Certain Regard award at last year’s Cannes Film Festival along with a parade of other international accolades since, ‘Rams’ is a deadpan art house comedy with a distinctly Nordic sensibility. There’s something very specifically sad and symbolic about the films produced in that part of the world, even those that qualify as comedy. Maybe it’s the bleak landscapes the filmmakers live in or maybe it’s merely their comedy tradition. Either way, there’s nothing quite like what happens when filmmakers from that corner of the world decide to tickle the funny bone through misery.

As the title suggests, ‘Rams’ is a movie centered on sheep. In fact, director Grímur Hákonarson has noted that a special rehearsal period was established for the sheep. His attention to detail clearly paid off. Of course, it’s not really about sheep. It’s about two sad, bearded brothers who haven’t spoken in 40 years despite being neighboring sheep farmers. We start off by being introduced to Gummi (Sigurður Sigurjónsson), a frail man who barely speaks and seems to hide beneath his spectacularly unkempt facial hair. He’s determined to win the local sheep competition, but loses to his equally bearded but far larger and more gregarious brother Kiddi (Theodór Júlíusson). Determined to discover how such a brash miscarriage of justice occurred, Gummi secretly inspects the winning sheep and discovers scrapie, an infectious brain disease. That’s disastrous for the local community as the powers that be insist that all the sheep be slaughtered and equipment be replaced to avoid an outbreak. This obviously kicks off a jealous and raging feud between the estranged brothers, albeit one done through the sad stony silence of the landscape and communication through notes attached to a sheepdog.

It’s a strange tale, to be sure, and it’s made even stranger by Hákonarson’s distinct telling. The film has a great deal of humor, but of an extremely deadpan variety. The movie is defined by morosely bearded faces, cutting stares, pregnant silences, and what people don’t say rather than what they do. The proceedings have a layer of almost purely visual comedy, yet few specific stills from the movie could be mistaken for a chuckle festival. Hákonarson shoots in widescreen images emphasizing the isolation of his characters in claustrophobic musty interiors and vast frozen landscapes. The music laid on top sounds like a funeral march. The performances are equally straight and impressive, especially Sigurjónsson and Júlíusson, who disappear so thoroughly into their characters and express everything through such small and meaningful gestures that it would be easy to mistake their work for documentary subjects rather than well-trained thespians.

Despite all the layers of sadness and drama, a peculiar humor hangs over everything in ‘Rams’. It springs naturally from the absurdity of the situation. The director provides few obvious comedy signifiers (aside from the sight of a naked fat man, which is always worth a giggle). Instead, Hákonarson uses the tension of his arty shooting style and the application of an overly solemn tone to somewhat ridiculous situations as a means to bring laughs. It’s a strange concoction, but oddly beautiful and intoxicating. It’s hard not to care for these characters or become invested in their (wisely largely unstated) secrets given the combination of silence and grunts that often passes for conversation. The film is strangely moving. The filmmakers and actors never look down on their characters despite recognizing the odd humor at their core.

Is ‘Rams’ for everyone? Hell no. It’s a comedy for those attuned to the charms of glacially paced art house filmmaking and the deadpan humor that can often sneak in within those pretentions. However, for those interested in films from the fringe that entertain and enlighten in peculiar ways, ‘Rams’ is worth seeking out. There’s certainly no other movie like it playing right now, and unless Hákonarson somehow decides that this one needs a sequel, there won’t be another like it again. For those who enjoy their funny and their misery to run side by side, ‘Rams’ is very much worth the strange trip to the cinema.

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