Hrútar

this is a movie for people who love movies. Iceland is always a great background for a movie and here, like in other Icelandic movies, it is a main character. the others are two brothers who have not spoken for 40 years. they raise sheep and must deal with the devastation that comes when disease arrives and infects the rams. in many situations like this, blood is thicker than water. that's the case here. we don't learn what happened to drive the brothers apart and they only communicate through dog express. (a little too cute for my taste). loneliness, both literally and figuratively, is on display. but the movie is not depressing. others might quibble with me about that. a movie for grown ups. Oscar worthy in my opinion.

I had the chance to watch Hrútar / Rams in a cinema in Reykjavik after traveling for 11 days in Iceland. Watching this movie was the highlight of our 2 day long stay in Reykjavik.

During the story we get to know a world that coexists with our modern Western world and of which we know nothing: elderly brothers taking care of and working with sheep.

While one shouldn't expect a Rambo-style Hollywood action movie, the pace is good, there are dramatic and comic scenes following each other in an easily-watchable way with nice shots and great acting (one doesn't think that he watches actors but real life).

I would have loved to have more insights on the life of shepherds and know more of the antecedents but the story told in the movie is a dramatic, full story while the movie is a very well done independent-type European movie.

Rams rests on a rather uncomplicated plot involving two brothers whose relationship can best be described as antipathetic, yet is beautifully revived over their shared endearment of their sheep. Whilst the storyline is unimaginative, the distinctive appeal of this Icelandic film-making gem, lies in what I'd term 'the hidden plot'. Rams is not about the characters, it's about their relationship with themselves, their environment and each other. It is not about the script, it is about the sentiment and meaning which embeds the words. And it is not about the desolate and barren Icelandic landscape, harsh, grim and evocative, but instead about how that setting interacts with the people, the sheep and their lives. Rams is a film of acute symbolism. The sheep are the only sings of aspiration and hope, economically and somewhat socially- speaking, in this paradoxically alluring and heart-renting part of the remote Icelandic North West. The talented cast deserves a mention. Behind your Johnny Depp's, Brad Pitt's and Vin Diesel's, lies a class of unknown, yet more authentic actors and actresses. I get the feeling I am watching a documentary on their lives on the Discovery Channel. Refreshingly alluring, Rams is a film which will make you think and question.

Rams is an Icelandic saga of the highest order, not of Kings, but of the Icelandic sheep farmer. There are battles, but the opponents are nature, the struggles of human relationship, and the hardships of life. It is a saga of and for the working man, expressed and pared down like a working man's haiku, and it is breathtaking. Beyond the story, it is a visual feast. The Icelandic landscape - seen in both its green glory and its stark white glory - literally made me gasp at first. The sound of the howling, relentless winter wind touched a primal nerve in me. And as someone who has co-existed with animals for much of my life, and who has worked on farms for years, I was touched by the aphorism that you can love - truly love - your animals, and then kill them and eat them. Killing something you love is not an easy thing to do of course, but Rams is a blast of reality in that way. Sustenance and survival in the real world, people. It's not always pretty, and never packaged. Rams is harshness and it is beauty, contrasting, colliding, and intermingling, like an Icelandic landscape and an Icelandic sheep farmer's life. Ten out of ten stars.

Love and hate have many things in common. Each, wrote Hawthorne, "leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his object." In the remote landscape of distant Iceland two neighbors, Gummi and Kiddi, nurse a fervent hatred. It has simmered for forty years running and despite the many things they have in common. Like many Icelanders, where there are more sheep (800,000) than people (300,000), they share a passion for sheep. Not THAT passionate! The calling to raise sheep is intertwined with their nature. The discovery of scrapie among the sheep, a lethal and highly contagious disease, should draw Gummi and Kiddi closer together. With the lengths they go to avoid each other, it is hard to see how much further they could be apart. Yet with true Icelandic spirit they try their best to maintain their independence and go their separate ways. The results are both hilarious and tragic.

The film is a typical Icelandic mix of darkness and light. The line is blurred between independence and isolation. The director maintains it is based on personal experience and real life situations. The themes of love and hate, as well as seclusion and self-reliance, really resonate with me. The two main characters are unique and intriguing as the film, and their parts are played well. Someone asked the director how hard it was to direct sheep and he replied that it was easier casting and directing sheep than people. Winner of the Un Certain Regard prize at Cannes. Seen at the Toronto International Film Festival 2015.