Pig Review
A peaceful existence in the woods. A man, his pig, and their cabin. The most stressful part of their day is a casual stroll in search of truffles. The pig has a knack for sniffing out the much sought-after delicacy. One day the peaceful existence is broken. The pig is taken. The man is left battered. The man must get his pig back. There are certain expectations that come with a story like this and Pig (2021) is not concerned with meeting any of them. What follows instead is a strange, ruminative exploration of the dynamics of grief.
Nicolas Cage plays the truffle hunter, Robin Feld, and the expectations due to his past roles loom large. There is no patented Cage meltdown to be found here as he gives a remarkably nuanced performance. Underneath the gruff and grimy exterior is immense pain. The viewer catches glimpses of this pain in Cage’s expressive eyes. Robin enlists the help of Amir (Alex Wolff), the man who sells the truffles in the city, to help find the pig. Amir is the opposite of Robin in every way. He talks constantly, is more clean-cut, and drives a bright yellow sportscar in contrast to Robin’s mahogany pickup truck. They play off each other well and it is not hard to become invested in their partnership.
Pig is not a revenge film, or a thriller. It unwinds at a steady pace and is more concerned with the pain that various characters keep bottled up than leads on the whereabouts of the pig. Robin chooses a life of seclusion because of his grief and the film takes its time exploring the grief. In his quest to find his pig he comes across old friends and acquaintances who recall his time as a highly regarded chef. Robin is not the only one hurting. Most of the characters are hurting in some way including Amir and his father, Darius (Adam Arkin). Director and co-writer Michael Sarnoski and writer Vanessa Block explore each character’s pain with sensitivity and sincerity, even if the characters deal with their pain in odd ways (a bizarre scene involving an underground fight club somehow manages not to smirk at the characters involved).
Pig is not content to wallow in the pain and despair of its characters. The film is interested in how the characters might start to come to terms with their pain. All it takes is a little bit of care. Being cared for and caring for others. On the morning after their first night in the city Amir shares some of his pain with Robin. Robin’s response is telling of his mental state. He uses the easiest shortcut to nihilistic apathy: natural disasters. He says people don’t have to care because they will die from an earthquake or tsunami sooner or later. All this talk is just bluster from a man in pain. Later on in the film Robin says that he remembers every meal he ever cooked and every person he has ever served as a chef. This is clearly a man who cares. He doesn’t have to care, and yet he does.
Characters that bottle up their pain are all over Pig but so are small, caring gestures. This not a film about payback. There are no obligations, only gifts. Pig is remarkable because it stands out amidst the irony and cynicism that is so popular today (not that these two qualities don’t have their uses). There is a delicateness to the craft of the film that feels rare. It is truly a treat underneath the dirt.