Directed By Valdimar Johannsson

Starring – Noomi Rapace, Hilmir Snaer Gudnason, Bjorn Hlynur Haraldsson

The Plot – A childless couple, María (Rapace) and Ingvar (Gudnason) discover a mysterious newborn on their farm in Iceland. The unexpected prospect of family life brings them much joy, before ultimately destroying them.

Rated R for some bloody violent images and sexuality/nudity

Lamb | Official Trailer HD | A24 – YouTube

POSITIVES

– Hefty themes. As an A24 film, there’s obviously plenty left to interpretation that brings forth the kind of spirited debates and post-movie conversation that movies like these were founded on. For my money, while there’s plenty about the blanks in the material that I still don’t fully understand or interpret, the script is very much about the elements of nature versus nurture, as well as the karma that is constantly hanging the balance that often humbles and humiliates both. There are many examples of this seen throughout that quite literally begin in a trailer with the words “Mother” and “Nature” separated by the movie’s titular term persisting in between them. This is supported by these part-goat, part-human hybrids seen constantly throughout the film, which I took as a manifestation of everything they’ve experienced within their human counterparts. For some, it results in a loving, nurturing environment where they can grow, and even reflet what they’ve been taught, but for others not as fortunate, it results in a gritty hostility that they bare with mental resonance throughout, while bringing to light the questionable relationship between human farmers and their cattle for the longest time.

– Atmospheric rush. Simply put, Johannsson directs the hell out of his directorial debut, with several elements of production weighing heavily in the consistency of the palpable unnerving atmosphere throughout. The setting itself conjures up a vulnerability in isolation that not only plays beautifully to the initially stuffy atmosphere between this reeling couple, but also the overwhelming emphasis in quiet in the sound design that speaks the loudest when nothing is said at all. On top of this, Johannsson paints each scene with an intentional lack of lighting and moody, greying color pallet that characterizes the lack of warmth or emotion from the missing piece that has defined their relationship, highlighted even louder by the lack of dialogue between them and the film as a whole, which plays into the immersive elements of the enveloping cold that blankets the surrounding mountains with a prescribing chill. Because of such, we’re often on our toes with gut-wrenching anxiety throughout, which often prepares us for the worst, then betrays us with the opposite in nearly every scene, creating an unpredictable emphasis that Valdimar relishes at with on-screen effectiveness.

– Alluring cinematography. There’s much to praise about the film’s visual storytelling, but I will use my time accordingly to gush over the documentation of its intoxicating setting, and the sleek movements of the lens from Eli Arenson, that depth to scenes pertaining to silence. On the former, Iceland’s immensity leads to many gorgeous wide angle shots that further play into the isolation being felt not only in the couple’s surrounding environment, but also internally within the context of their own relationship, and the distancing that is presented literally and figuratively in the boundaries of such meaningful shots. For the latter, various panning movements, in and away, creating this long and lingering persistence adds to the aforementioned unnerve that nearly swallows this story whole, all the while corresponding with some single take stillframes in animal reactions that equally attain levity in comic relief that works surprisingly well with the domination of this tonal capacity.

– Exceptionally acted. There’s only three human actors throughout the duration of the film, but the dynamic between Rapace and Gudnason more than captures and maintains our attention through an overall lack of dialogue that challenges their interaction. Their chemistry in scenes together feels every bit lived-in and believable from the perception of an aging couple with a desire to constantly be one of those lucky, happy people, but it’s the moments of distancing between them that is equally conveying, creating an internal longing for Rapace, and external ambiguity from Gudnason, which feels like the honest interpretation of the people they’re forced to endure while around each other. In addition to them, the various animals of this supporting cast deserve praise, especially with the work that Johannsson pulls from each of them. These four-legged friends more than represent the perception of the audience, with regards to the wild absurdity transpiring continuously, and the tight-face, tilted-head characteristics of their various reactions attained many laughs in the unapologetic honesty that stemmed from their involvement.

– Special effects. While used sporadically to the point that they’re barely even noticeable, the incorporation of C.G facial imposing solidified a believable brilliance, regardless of the impossibilities of the concepts it enhances. For half/human, half/goat character designs, Johannson cast a non-credited child actor to physically embody the outline of its lower half, imposing a goat’s face to the head, to attain a strange visual juxtaposition that perfectly capture the most defining characteristics of both in tow. This is easier during scenes in bed, where the child will be obviously slid under a cover, and use their hands to wrap around the goat, in order to give off the impression that they are one living, breathing entity. For on-feet scenes, this is naturally a lot tougher, especially considering C.G surprisingly still hasn’t mastered the fluidity of artificially human movements, but considering it’s still persisting with a live action actor embodying it, and only artificial with the head, allows the layering the capability to succeed, marrying C.G and practical effects seamlessly in ways that it doesn’t dilute the magic of the production, nor distract audiences in ways that takes focus away from where it rightfully should be.

– Tonal balance. Part of the charm that elicits itself from the unorthodox nature of this darkly tragic folk tale, is the capabilities of juggling two conductive tones under its umbrella for the price of one. The more definitive of the two is certainly the horror and suspense, which not only materialize as a result of the aforementioned elements of production so clearly defined that audiences can practically taste and feel, but also one that guilts audiences into preparing for the worst, based on the preconceived notions of cliche’d cinema. It very much goes against the grain, realized further in the air of its awkward humor, attained nervously by the fantastical elements in the imagery, that work surprisingly well with the thickness of the literal and emotional fog that envelopes the experience. The comedy creates several moments of palpable levity that keeps it from wallowing in the shell of its own guilt, and the temporary instances don’t attain enough consistency or prolonged notoriety to overstep its boundaries.

– Life lessons. Even in a film with a lamb being passed off as a human offspring to fill the gaping hole in a couple’s emotional being, the script more than supplants a nourishing afterthought that audiences will wholeheartedly interpret through absurdist visuals and unshakeable uneasiness. This brings to light my favorite instances of the film, where supporting characters, human and otherwise, try to constantly rain down on the parade of this healing couple, until Ingvar remorses with three bountifully meaningful words; “This is happiness”. This deeply heartfelt sentiment not only gives the couple a tender empathy that enhances the love and charm of their unconventional circumstance, but also teaches the world that love and acceptance are matters that everyone is entitled to, but only too few are presented, as a result of society’s self-entitled moral code. While I didn’t agree with the couple stealing the lamb from her biological mother’s clutches, and then closing her off from the rest of her animal offspring, it did attain a profound layer of urgency in social commentary that I hope more people are able to lift from it, making this “Lamb” the beacon in the relationsheep between solitude and compassion that proves its heart is in fact in the right place.

NEGATIVES

– Missing pieces. In any independent film, or A24 feature, interpretation is often used as the key to unlocking a deeper experience for the audience, but with that said, there’s simply too much ambiguity to the experience, which hinders everything from character investment, to a complete lack of motivation for devastating actions. For my money, this is felt the loudest during the second act, where we not only meet a third human character that wields with him highly consequential circumstances, but also a complete removal of our animal supporting cast, which lets go the aspect of the story with the most momentum and suspense in its disposal, to that point. There was much I appreciated about the lack of dialogue that vividly painted a deeper despair for this couple during the first act, but it’s an aspect that it feels like it never evolves from, making for several arduously redundant sequences along the way that I felt would’ve been all the more effective if we approached the people steering them as people, instead of a plot.

– Grinding halt. “Lamb” isn’t one of the easiest experiences to sit through this year, serving instead as a slowburn drama of the most meandering kind that I felt never resulted in a monumental pay-off for all the anticipatory trepidation it builds with psychological actions. I myself thoroughly enjoy slowburn cinema, but to say my interest was waning during the film’s dry spell of a second half, would be putting it lightly. For my money, the film works best when it has human and animal perspectives to counterbalance the weight of the load in responsibility of telling this story. During those balancing moments, I was invested faithfully in the dynamic between these two polar opposite sides, with one enforcing their weight on the other, and when one side drops out from beneath us, the nurture of the engagement simply wasn’t enough to balance both sides of the depiction. The pay-offs are there, but not monumental enough to reach a climactic emphasis, and it just leaves the film’s resolution falling flat, despite it having such meaningful resonance in the steps of grief and acceptance.

My Grade: 8/10 or B+