The silence of the rams

My parents have set out for points north once more, a day earlier than anticipated on account of Youngest Sister having broken her upper arm on Thursday evening. I suspect that will prove to be her last ice-skating session… Other than phone calls to various people on this subject, we had the relaxing sort of weekend suited to somewhat tired people in late February, and other people did the cooking, which I always like. I enjoy cooking, but it gets tedious day in and day out, especially the washing up.

We saw Icelandic film Rams on Saturday, highly recommended. I found myself thinking afterwards how incomparable it was as a piece of art compared to Star Wars, which was the last film I saw at the cinema. Not that I didn’t enjoy Star Wars, which was a fun piece of light entertainment that I enjoyed very much; but Rams simply offers more to chew on.

I shall cheat and quote the beginning of the Guardian review:

In a secluded Icelandic valley, estranged brothers Gummi and Kiddi are warring neighbours, competing with each other for the best ram prize that has become a symbol of their family feud. But when the spectre of the fatal scrapie disease threatens their remote farms, both brothers are faced with the prospect of a cull. Can these long-term enemies find common purpose when their ancestral stock and way of life are threatened?

Here’s the trailer:

"Rams / Hrútar by Grímur Hákonarson - Trailer - Un Cannes Certain Regard 2015 winner" (Watch on YouTube)

It’s a powerful film, with some terrific acting, real pathos, unattractive woolly jumpers, set in a place that makes February in southern England feel like paradise by comparison, and with lots of sheep.