Gummi (Sigurður Sigurjónsson) and Kiddi (Theodór Júlíusson) may not have spoken in forty years, but they have a lot in common. They are brothers, they live side by side in a valley in the Icelandic countryside, and they are both doting sheep farmers. They own flocks of a highly esteemed breed of animal which were brought to this region in the eighteenth century, and have been under their family’s care for just as long, it’s been a grand tradition of herding that has seen them win many awards for the quality of the beasts. However, today after Kiddi beats Gummi into second place at a local contest, an aggrieved Gummi ventures out while everyone is celebrating to examine the prize-winner – and doesn’t like what he sees.
That’s not because the sheep is demonstrably better than his own ram, which he feels great affection for as well as pride for its representation of a superb stock, and makes the rivalry between the brothers somewhat absurd when they are both breeding essentially the same livestock. Nope, it’s because a close examination reveals evidence of scrapie, the brain disease that is incurable in sheep and must therefore be treated by putting the entire flock to death, and not only them but the sheep in the surrounding fields as well, it really is that serious. This news is confirmed by vet Katrin (Charlotte Bøving) and goes on to affect the men in different ways, for a start, Kiddi blames Gummi for the problem.
It’s putting it mildly to call it a problem, of course, given this puts paid to any chance of sheep farming in the region for at least two years it’s a personal tragedy for all involved, and becomes emblematic of the wider issues in the financial crisis in the world, not just in Iceland. But as well as that, and perhaps more, this was a small drama centring on the two brothers which in spite of looking at first glance to be the most Iceland-specific movie ever made, managed to widen its appeal to other societies too thanks to the obvious pain suffered by the characters, mostly emotionally but sadly graduating to the physical into the bargain. It was described as a tragicomedy, yet there wasn’t much to laugh at.
Not when you considered the terrible cost paid by the community, though that said there were a couple of big laughs once you had adjusted to the rhythm and deliberate pace of the film, maybe not enough to have you rolling in the aisles (or wherever you were watching it). At its heart were two essentially taciturn but oddly moving performances from the two leads, theatre actors displaying a wealth of acting experience between them, though Kiddi was rather more volatile than his sibling, making it plain with his shotgun how bereft he feels at the potential loss of his livelihood. They behave as if the passing of years has not affected them inside, with Kiddi the bully of childhood and Gummi the passive, cowed victim, and when this crisis rears its head this only exacerbates their animosity.
This is where a film about Icelandic sheep rearing came closest to becoming a tense thriller, unlikely as that sounded, for though there has been a cull, Gummi contrives to evade it to an extent by killing his stock before Katrin arrives with the authorities to do the job themselves – except he doesn’t kill all of them, for this precious breed of animal is not something he can be parted with after all those generations taking care of them, so he keeps a bunch of about ten in his basement. As winter draws on, it looks as if he will get away with this subterfuge, except Kiddi, stubborn as ever, is jeopardising the official project by refusing to comply even as his own flock is put down for Gummi is, he is informed, responsible for his brother’s legal matters. With the cold beginning to bite, drastic measures are eventually taken, leading to an ending that may not satisfy everyone after all that drama, but proved oddly memorable and melancholy, especially on reflection of such details as the brothers having no next of kin, never mind any partners to speak of, meaning they're all they have and perhaps all they ever will have. Music by Atli Örvarsson.
