By John Campbell
The brothers Gummi and Kiddi (Sigurður Sigurjónsson and Theodór Júlíusson) have not spoken to each other for forty years. They live on adjoining farms in a remote, bitterly cold valley in Iceland. They are childless and loveless – all they have are their herds of long-haired sheep (and what gorgeous creatures they are, too). Director Grímur Hákonarson does not elaborate as to the reasons for their intractable enmity, other than to allude to the fact that it was Gummi who was the beneficiary of their parents’ will – he is primarily concerned with the circumstances of their changeless lives. Disaster strikes the valley when an incurable, fatal disease is detected in one of the sheep. To protect the viability of Iceland’s flocks, the government decides that Gummi and Kiddi’s sheep must be slaughtered. This is a movie of intrigue, bleak humour and pathos, one in which you just cannot tell for certain what is going to happen – a not unwelcome component when we are force-fed predictability by mainstream cinema.
Gummi is determined to outsmart the local veterinarian and her rangers, whereas Kiddi blames his brother for their dire predicament and hits the bottle even harder – in one dark but hilarious scene, Gummi finds Kiddi passed out in the snow, picks his body in the front of his tractor and dumps it outside the nearby town’s hospital. You suspect that at some point there will be a rapprochement between the men, but on the other hand an almost Shakespearean portent of gloom prevails – Kiddi has a gun that will surely come into play in a bad way. The environment, too, is fierce and unyielding – not since Fargo have I seen a winter landscape play such a significant part in creating ambience. As the brothers struggle to hang on to the only existence that they have ever known, it’s impossible not to hope for the best for them. The climactic moment of desperation arrives as a blinding blizzard descends on the valley, with Gummi and Kiddi, like King Lear, lost in it. Fantastic.
