The starkness and isolation that define the Icelandic landscape are mirrored in the strained relationship between two brothers at the heart of writer-director Grímur Hákonarson’s film, *Rams* (also known as “Hrutar”). For forty years, Gummi and Kiddi have been estranged, their distance reflecting a deep emotional indifference. It takes a crisis—a deadly illness affecting their sheep—to force them to confront the loss and disconnection that has shaped their lives. The movie establishes itself as an Icelandic story about reluctance in family relationships and how two stubborn brothers must begrudgingly come together to care for the sheep that unexpectedly connect them during a period of economic difficulty. The film introduces us to brothers Gummi (Sigurdur Sigurjonsson) and Kiddi (Theodor Juliusson), who live next door to each other and share a passion for breeding sheep, routinely competing in the village’s annual “best ram” contest. Despite their close proximity and shared interest in sheep herding competitions, the siblings have not spoken in four decades. Both men are known throughout the country for raising exceptional sheep; their prize-winning rams are among the best. The sheep represent more than just livestock to them; they serve as loyal companions that fill a void in otherwise lonely lives. Neither Gummi nor Kiddi has a family, so their farming identities and success at community ram events provide their only source of pride. A devastating crisis arrives when a contagious disease infects Kiddi’s flock. Authorities order the destruction of all sheep to prevent further spread, creating an emotional blow for both brothers. What will fill the void left by the absence of these “family members”? The situation intensifies each brother's loneliness. The mandated eradication of the infected sheep causes distress not only for Gummi and Kiddi but also for other farmers in the area who depend on their livestock for income. Facing financial ruin, many farmers abandon their land. However, the brothers stubbornly resolve to protect their sheep and preserve their properties, attempting to hide their efforts from authorities. This is a moment of reckoning for Gummi and Kiddi, forcing them to overcome their years of silence and reconnect in order to save the sheep that have given their lives purpose—a symbol of affection that has always bridged their emotional gap. Hákonarson gradually builds suspense, allowing viewers to witness the brothers’ journey toward reconciliation as they struggle to maintain a sense of self-worth and stability. The film explores themes beyond the livestock outbreak, highlighting the potential loss of everything dear to two stubborn men resistant to change. While family bonds can be broken, the movie suggests that they can also be restored, emphasizing the importance of connection despite any past resentment or detachment. The actors deliver convincing performances; Sigurjonsson and Juliusson effectively portray aging brothers burdened by a deep-seated malaise, their only passion being their devotion to their animals—a concept alien and almost fatalistic in the context of their familial relationship. *Rams* is emotionally resonant, though the central theme of estranged brothers might not be profoundly moving for everyone. Nevertheless, it offers a relatable story for those struggling to repair fractured relationships at a time of quiet despair. *Rams (2016)* Cohen Media Group 1 hr. 32 mins. Starring: Charlotte Bøving, Sigurður Sigurjónsson, Theodór Júlíusson Directed by: Grímur Hákonarson MPAA Rating: R Genre: Drama/Foreign Critic's rating: **1/2 stars (out of 4 stars)** (c) Frank Ochieng (2016) MPAA Rating: R

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