Béliers

In an age of digital marketing saturation, social media domination and notifications of the latest Disney blockbuster being sent to you while you're sat on the loo, it's always refreshing to have a film sneak up unannounced and give you that warm fuzzy hidden gem feeling. Resembling its Icelandic counterparts, Rams is like finding a Sigur Ros in a big bag of Coldplays.

Rams follows two brothers who reside next door to each other in a remote sheep farming community in the Icelandic countryside. Having not spoken to each other for 40 years, Gummi (Sigurjónsson) and Kiddi (Júlíusson) are finally forced to deal with their strained relationship after a rare disease triggers the slaughter of their entire valleys flock. Each brother deals with the situation in his own way; Gummi having the functioning sibling role; calm and calculating with his understated intelligence and Kiddi with drink induced anger and violence.

As you would expect from a film based on the hillsides of Iceland, the scenery is stunning but is never used to build the crew's cinematography portfolio. In fact, it only adds to the evident toughness of the people's lives there, surviving a challenging livelihood with the backdrop of such natural splendour. The relationship between the farmers and their animals and how it intrinsically represents, and is inherently tied to, the entire history of their family is at times both heart-warming and heart- breaking.

What is most surprising about Rams is how it creeps up on you; how you find yourself sincerely caring for its characters towards the end of the film. You genuinely feel for the brother's relationship yet the script is so subtle in its depiction of the association between the two that the feeling comes as a real surprise when it finally hits. This is made even more remarkable considering how much of a slog the first thirty minutes are to get through.

There are sweet little comedy moments too. The brothers use a sheep dog to deliver notes to each other and at one point Gummi delivers a drunken Kiddi to the local A&E in the bucket of a digger, but these moments are infrequent and never feel like forced slapstick. The humour is always believable and acts as a nice break from the melancholy of the primary story.

Rams is a lovely surprise, a film that intentionally builds up slowly and is so understated in the development of its main characters that by the end of the film, you forget about almost everything else but the affection you have subconsciously developed for the two brothers. A sneaky little treasure of a movie whose ending will stay with you for a long time.

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.

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 a delightful film, for several reasons.

First, it shows the traditional way of living at the remote Icelandic countryside, a harsh environment where only sheep and stubborn bearded men seem to be able to survive. The beautiful landscape and the traditional farming community are a wonderful setting for this film.

Secondly, it tells a story with so much nice little details, that it's hard not to like it. It's about two brothers who live a few hundred meters from each other but haven't spoken to each other for 40 years. They communicate, if necessary, by writing letters which are carried from one house to the other by a sheepdog. When their flocks of expertly bred sheep are diagnosed with a deadly disease, their lives are turned upside down.

Thirdly, it is a bittersweet drama with a very positive feeling to it. There are many funny moments, filled with the typical deadpan Scandinavian humour. When one of the brothers finds the other lying motionless in the snow, drunk and possibly freezing to death, he picks him up with a large mechanical shovel, deposits him in front of a nearby hospital, and leaves without even getting out of his machine. But as much as they detest each other, the circumstances make an emotional cease-fire inevitable.

This is one of those little gems that deserve to make it to the final selections of the foreign language Oscars. 'Rams' was submitted by Iceland, but not selected for the final shortlist. What a pity.