If you want it plain and simple, Peter and the Farm has been by far one of the best films I’ve seen this year, and definitely the best documentary I’ve seen this year.

But if you’re anything like me, you might want to know a little bit more about the film before you actually go and see it, and with director and co-producer Tony Stone’s latest feature-length, I’d say it’s definitely a good idea to know what you’re getting yourself into, especially for all my vegan and vegetarian friends out there.

Peter and the Farm opens with a camera on the dashboard of a car, looking out into the idyllic countryside of Vermont. We then are introduced to the protagonist, a rough-talking, sixty-eight-year-old, rugged individualist and the man who has been behind Mile Hill Farm for 38 years, Peter Dunning.

By all accounts, Peter seems like your average farmer just doing his thing. In an early scene, he demonstrates how he calls for his sheep compared to how he calls for his cows. He wears the same ratty wool sweater, grass stained denim, and worker boots every day. He chops wood, rides around on his tractor, and brews his own beer in his basement.

He seems to have grown accustomed to the daily chores of running a small, organic farm, so much so that in another early scene, he is visibly unfazed as he shoots one of his sheep, fails to actually kill it, shoots it again, this time killing it, and then proceeds to–in an extremely graphic matter that I actually had to cover my eyes from because it was a little too much–dismember the sheep; head, intestines, and all.

Nothing is left up to the imagination here, and Peter’s nonchalant commentary while, for example, pulling the stomach out of the sheep caracas, appears to become this early symbol for his apparent disconnect from the rest of the world, including with his now-estranged family.

Something I appreciated about Peter and the Farm is the way it addresses Peter’s back story. You never get the whole story at once, rather in pieces as it naturally comes to the surface. And it comes to the surface often, as it’s evident that Peter’s past directly impacts his present more than it probably should.

A byproduct of the 1960s counterculture, Peter was once an aspiring artist, who, pretty immediately after receiving his BA in sculpture seeks out work on a saw mill, only to severely injure and disfigure his hand to the point where he can no longer make art the way he once could. He and his first wife, enamored by the notion of organic farming, create a once prosperous business that Peter acknowledges has only been declining since the late 1990s, coinciding with the deterioration of his second marriage and the eventual abandonment by not only both of his wives, but by his four children as well. This leaves Peter where he is today– living alone on and independently tending to his 187 acres of picturesque, New England farmland.

Peter doesn’t specifically point out what was the exact breaking point for his family, but it’s safe for the audience to assume excessive drinking and his lack of exhibited emotion was probably at the root of it. The thing is that despite the unflattering way Peter, more or less, paints himself as, I didn’t really buy that he is just some stoic, apathetic jerk– and that didn’t seem to be what Stone wanted you to take away from it either.

Voiceovers throughout the film divulge incredible poetry written by Peter, elaborating on the guilt he feels for his actions, and at one point, while tossing hay down from the hayloft, and after acknowledging his discontentment over his own childhood, delivers a remarkable insight, stating, “I wish the affection for people had been received as I didn’t give it, but meant it.” That statement has been stuck in my head since I saw the film, and I think it’s because of how relatable it is, not to mention how eloquently it was put. I’d totally be lying if I said I had never felt that same exact way regarding my closest relationships–although I can’t imagine it would’ve been that nicely articulated had I verbally expressed it.

What I think is so special about Peter and the Farm is not only it’s breathtaking cinematography, but also the fact that even in the darkest moments of the film–like when sadly but not too surprisingly Peter semi-jokes that his farmhand has to hide his rifle because he speaks of suicide so often– the viewer feels, in one way or another, compassion for Peter. And this is not to be confused with pity– it’s actually nowhere near pity, and I think it’s because Peter never seems to pity himself. He carries on with his daily routine, his chores, and he never once blames anyone for what has happened, but rather, accepts it as an unfortunate aspect of his life. And in some way, Mile Hill Farm with its mesmerizing beauty and at the same time, isolated existence, seems to mirror Peter’s own existence– what was once full of plentiful opportunity and aspiration has now been eclipsed by years of adversity that I think, only someone of Peter’s age would be able to fully recognize.

Despite this bleak assertion and the fact that Stone’s documentary never really depicts Peter reaching a point of self-redemption at the end, I still wasn’t convinced that the overarching theme of the movie was to point out how much life can suck and simply leave it at that. I mean, hey, even Peter recalls that “…there have been good times. Lots of good times…” and much later on in the film declares, “Life announces itself in force– death slinks off,” suggesting, in my opinion, a more balanced conception of the reality in which we live.

At length, Peter and the Farm is a beautifully observed character study and a one of a kind film that highlights the tragedy of our past seeping into our present, what it means to be human and make mistakes, and at the very least, will definitely put some things into perspective for the viewer.

The post Fresh Bread Film Review: Peter and the Farm appeared first on KRUI Radio.

I was a DJ of my own radio show last year on KRUI, and I am now very pleased and excited to announce that I will have my own column titled, “Fresh Bread Film Review” on the KRUI website, dedicated to reviewing independent and lesser-streamed films, something I am very passionate about.

You can expect my reviews to be on movies that are brand-spanking new and possibly just screened at FilmScene to older, independent films that could be difficult to track down online and/or in stores.

Expect to learn about films from across the globe with local actors/actresses, and expect that I am willing to hear you out if you have any suggestions on movies I should check out and review. Just shoot me an email at lily-goodman@uiowa.edu if you have any requests.

Okay, so now that you have the low-down, let’s get to it! The first movie I am going to talk about is the 2004 coming-of-age film, Mean Creek.

I stumbled across director Jacob Aaron Estes’ breakout film one night when I couldn’t fall asleep. It was in the independent section on Netflix, starred a young Josh Peck, and had a four star rating. I figured, why not give it a try? Little did I know how much of an impact Mean Creek would have on me, even five years after watching it for the first time.

The film follows six of your average, American teens and young adults from a small, unspecified Oregon town as they devise and enact what was supposed to be a cruel, yet ultimately harmless act of revenge (if there ever is such a thing), and the consequences they face when their plan goes horribly wrong.

Quiet and slightly awkward, Sam, played by Macaulay Culkin’s younger brother, Rory, is constantly picked on by George Tooney– the overweight and deeply troubled middle school bully, brilliantly portrayed by an almost unknown-at-the-time Josh Peck.

After George attacks Sam and gives him a black eye for touching his new video camera without permission, Sam looks to his protective, older brother, Rocky for advice.

Rocky assures Sam not to worry, and quickly consults his two best friends, the skinny, underdog, Clyde, who honestly seems kind of like the high school version of Sam, and the alpha male, overtly macho and fatherless Marty Blank, who, throughout the course of the film, becomes noticeably just as much of a bully as George Tooney, himself.

The four of them– Sam, Rocky, Clyde and Marty– come up with the perfect practical joke to, as Sam puts it, “hurt him without really hurting him”, and invite George to Sam’s fake birthday party, which includes a day of boating along an isolated river outside of town, oh, and stripping and pushing an unsuspecting George into the river and leaving him to walk home naked.

Of course George agrees to go, as one early and rather poignant scene in the film illustrates– and what anyone who has experienced a schoolyard bully would probably already know– George is lonely, friendless and feels just as misunderstood as the rest of us. He fills this void with purchasing the newest gadgets and gizmos, but would clearly trade in his flat screen TV for some actual, human friends any day.

Thus the game begins. The boys, including George, and Sam’s sort-of, kind-of, it’s-unclear-because-they’re-in-middle-school girlfriend, Millie, all head out to the river.

Pulling a 360 in terms of personality (perhaps because he finally feels like he belongs), George becomes almost likable, keeping his hurtful comments to a minimum and his knuckles out of anyone’s face.

This prompts everyone to want to call off the plan, well, everyone except chip-on-his-shoulder Marty, who points out to Rocky that he came out on a Saturday with a bunch of sober kids when he could have been watching TV to teach George a lesson. “I’m a man who likes to follow through with his plans,” he says. But Rocky blows him off, reminding Marty that the plan is a no-go consequently inducing a tension-filled rest of the afternoon that culminates in tragedy.

I think what I liked so much about Mean Creek is its seamless ability to tackle such a controversial topic such as teen-on-teen bullying and represent it in its rawest, and in my opinion, most accurate form. This is in contrast to many films that depict bullying by our “innocent” youth, which because of its uncomfortable and disturbing nature, is usually skimmed over, generalized, and sometimes made even comedic as in movies like Mean Girls. Don’t get me wrong, I can totally appreciate Mean Girls, but that’s for another day, another time.

Estes’ film isn’t even just a simple tale about seeking revenge and being met with an unforeseen outcome though. It’s actually way more complicated than that, giving it that extra oomph and dubbing it as a coming-of-age story for a reason.

Every single character on that tiny boat goes through some sort of transformation throughout the duration of the movie. But perhaps what is the biggest transformation of all, is the very adult-like realization they come to all together, something that George’s video camera, which is arguably what got them all into this mess in the first place, ends up symbolizing. If there’s one thing, amongst many, that I was reminded of while watching Mean Creek, it’s that there are just some things in life, some actions, some words, that no matter how hard you try, you can never take them back, and then all you can do is live with the consequences and attempt to move forward.

The post Fresh Bread Film Review: Mean Creek appeared first on KRUI Radio.