GUNDA

Norway/US, 2020, 93 minutes, Black-and-white.

Directed by Viktor Kosakovskiy.

Gunda is the name of a sow who is at the centre of this documentary. There is striking black-and-white photography, close-ups of Gunda and her piglets, chickens and cows on the farm, with a vivid sense of detail.

The film has been acclaimed by film critics and cineastes. However, with its specialised focus, minute detailed attention and its more contemplative approach to observing farm life, it may well prove very difficult for mainstream audiences to sit through. It has made some viewers rather angry, their labelling the film pretentious.

The director has a Russian background, has been decorated by the state for his work, and, from 1992 to 2020 has directed 15 documentaries. For Gunda, he has concentrated on one farm but has travelled internationally for other farm sequences.

Audience attention is immediately on Gunda, lying at the opening of a shed, the camera remaining minutes contemplating her, something of a feature of the documentary style throughout. Piglets emerge. They suck on their mother’s teats. They vie for positions. Gradually, we see the piglets growing, a dozen or more, still vying for position, with a touch of bullying (or whatever is the appropriate word for pig rivalry).

There are interludes with the chickens, including one with one leg. There are interludes with the cows. There are quiet moments as Gunda and the piglets show what it is like to be contented like a pig in mud. The piglets have their moments of content but they tend to be on the move and that jostling with one another.

There is a narrative in the film, dramatised towards the end when a huge tractor appears, carrying a huge container – for removing the piglets. In filming Gunda after they leave, the camera work in the close-ups suggest to the audience the emotions of the sow, indications of grief, bewilderment, wandering – then finally lying down. Further insemination? Further birth of piglets? The cycle over again?