02/07/2019 - Yrsa Roca Fannberg proves that you can take the sheep out of the man, but you can’t take the man out of the sheep

If festival selections prove anything at all, it’s that there seems to be an entire new genre of films now, both fiction features and docs, that concentrate on a simple life led somewhere far away in the north, where time simply decided to stop and stand still. While actually marking the end of such a peaceful refuge for one Icelandic couple, Yrsa Roca Fannberg’s The Last Autumn [+see also:
trailer
film profile] – presented in the Documentary Competition at Karlovy Vary – is really no exception. But although it doesn’t bring anything new to the simple, handcrafted wooden table, it still offers some touching moments – just enough for it not to be bothersome.

It’s a wistful film, depicting what could clearly be called the end of an era, although instead of The Last Picture Show, you get the last herding, as the whole family, including the city folk, gathers one more time to drive the sheep from the hills. It’s especially poignant as it’s quite clear that this kind of life brought these two people joy – and not just them: when their animals are being fed milk straight from a bottle, there is some truly impressive tail-waggling going on.

But the couple remains exceptionally good-natured and practical about the impending change, still marvelling at a new windmill or rather poetically describing a mountain as wearing its “best bridal shawl” in a photo. It’s almost impossible not to feel for them just a little, and for their practical rubber boots and propensity for silence, occasionally interrupted by a chat with a pet.

Director Yrsa Roca Fannberg seems hypnotised by these well-rehearsed movements as they keep passing bowls of berries and cream, or listen to the radio announcing that “our world is becoming more computerised” while making precisely nothing of such a revelation at all, at least until the family brings along some mentions of Instagram and Harley Quinn Halloween costumes. It’s just a pity that, save for some added-on black-and-white stills, it’s really not the most visually imaginative of films, expect maybe for a few shots taken from a distance – with people as small as ants and just as vulnerable, surrounded by a world that’s still truly majestic. In these rare moments, the story almost turns into a tale “of giants and men”, to paraphrase that Benedikt Erlingsson title, but the focus quickly returns to the bittersweet preparations for leaving. Or “getting out completely”, as one of them puts it, as the upcoming farmaggedon begins to unfurl.

Dedicated to all of the farmers present during filming, and the few that still remain (with their busy days and wishes for “discreet” funerals), with all its familiarity and its almost sedate pace, The Last Autumn leaves one in a state of not entirely unpleasant lethargy, willing to talk to no one but a faithful dog for the entire week – which, come to think of it, might not be such a bad idea.

The Last Autumn was produced by Hanna Björk Valsdóttir, of Akkeri Films, and Biti aptan bæði. Alibi Communications is handling the publicity.