Not quite horseplay: on Of Horses and Men
Jean-Luc Godard once famously asserted that Robert Bresson’s Au Hasard Balthazar was “the world in an hour and half.” On that occasion, human nature was presented courtesy of the stoic, noble gaze of that film’s eponymous donkey and the same conceit is adopted — quite literally — in the wonderfully unusual slice of life that is Of Horses and Men. This debut feature from erstwhile theatre director Benedikt Erlingsson uses the inscrutable eyes of Iceland’s unique horses (scarcely more than the size of ponies when fully grown) to scrutinise the stunning landscapes and curious two-legged inhabitants of their native soil. This intimate and fundamentally strange film inspires the irrevocable sense that, like Bresson’s masterpiece, life itself is being presented.
A small rural horse-rearing community provides the setting for a series of interconnecting episodes charting human idiosyncrasy and the relationships of the various locals with one another, themselves, their natural surroundings, and of course their horses. Shot amidst the kinds of staggering vistas that have become common-place in Hollywood science fiction, this is a portrait of a world both alien and entirely familiar. Comically absurd and heart-wrenchingly authentic, the interplay of farce and tragedy never allows spirits to drop, the filmmakers seemingly taking a cue from the steadfast little nags of the title.
Each of the different chapters begins with the elegant camera of lenser Bergsteinn Björgúlfsson inspecting the individual horse in question in extreme close-up. Honed in on its unflinching eye, the point of view flips via a reflection of the horse’s owner, and so begins a parabolist tale that will explore the connection between these two beings. Equine eyes take on the entire gamut of potential emotion as they observe these curious creatures with whom they have formed a cohabitation. Filled with cheer, abhorrence, sheer indifference, or all three, the animalistic behaviour of humanity is perfectly framed by the long-lashed stare of a bemused horse.
If there is a through-line, it is in the courtship that has the entire village captivated. The pompous and dapper Kolbeinn (Ingvar E. Sigurðsson) is observed through binoculars by various neighbours as he tenderly harnesses his prize filly and takes her out for a morning ride. Soon, he prompts his steed into the almost bizarre trot that, due to the breed’s short legs, constitutes a gallop. With her master sat triumphantly atop her, this tiny, beautiful mare prances along the road to the home of Solveg (Charlotte Bøving). As the restrained lovers share a cup of tea, a frisson arises — and not just between the humans. When Kolbeinn is departing, the previously untapped sexual tension is shattered by Solveg’s stud mounting the mare, with Kolbeinn hilariously and horrifyingly still in the saddle. This mortifying embarrassment sparks a series of events for the various horses and humans involved.
Erlingsson’s quietly majestic film subtly interrogates the success of human society and questions our dominance over other species with whom we share the earth. The worst qualities of our race are seen in the way these characters deal with jealousy, territory disputes, group dominance, survival and death, though all are imbued with knowing comedy that still manages to charm.
The icy grandeur of the visuals is employed to truly spellbinding effect, pitting these insignificant beings against colossal backdrops. There are several, memorably striking shots, including the agitation of a herd being corralled and the lone edginess of a horse resisting a rider. The aesthetics are further enriched by David Thor Jonsson’s haunting soundtrack of choral music bringing the wisdom of this ostensibly slight work into relief. In the moments of an alcoholic riding his horse out to sea to buy foreign booze, or a tourist being left behind on a snowbound trail, the music encourages us to contemplate the many facets of humanity to which nature is so impassive.
What could appear to be an Icelandic oddity proves to be much more. Astonishing and arresting, Of Horses and Men is thoughtful, profound and enthralling, while provoking the laughter and tears that all of the best fables should.
This review was originally published on the now defunct Vérité Film Magazine blog for the film’s UK cinema release in, June 2014.