Pig

Dig beneath the surface-level tagline of writer-director Michael Sarnoski’s, Pig, and you’ll soon discover riches profound, plaintive and punishing. Sold, no doubt, to studios and audiences alike on the quirky premise of Nicolas Cage as a gruff, surly woodsman on a quest to recover his stolen porcine companion, this feature debut offers, and delivers, far greater rewards.

Just as the cow of Kelly Reichardt’s beloved 2019 film represented so much more than the mere physical means for Cookie and King-Lu to make their famed ‘oily cakes’, so does the all-important truffle-hunting pig here, sole company for reclusive former chef Robin (Cage), out in the Oregon backwoods. A pared-back, off-the-grid existence, in a ramshackle hut amid the towering pines, and the simple joys – photographed wonderfully by DP Patrick Scola – of living off the land may seem idyllic. But the bubbling undertow of a nearby brook and cassette tape clip of a woman’s voice that Robin cannot bring himself to listen to, show that no distance from civilisation – and a former life – can silence long-buried woes.

Direction that is patient, unobtrusive and gentle throughout, teases out these threads, pulling them back into the present as Robin is forced to confront a painful past. Introducing himself as an articulate filmmaker of real empathy, Sarnoski has equally coaxed out the finest performance seen from Cage in as long as can be remembered. Left beaten and bruised after his pig is stolen in the night, the now veteran actor’s dogged turn is a slow, determined shuffle, largely softly spoken, gravelly and deliberate, bearing the weight of losses recent and distant on shoulders that bend but will not break.

For the actor has not so much come in from the cold, but gone out into the wilderness to demonstrate once more his verifiable acting chops – here, covered in a thick beard and shaggy mane of unkempt hair. It is a very welcome return to form, dialled down from 11 to something like a three, the likes of which many were doubtful would ever be seen again after years of, let’s face it, complete dross. And though forlorn at the brutal theft, Robin maintains hope as he ventures into Portland. With the city as unfamiliar to his character as Cage will be to an audience here in a startlingly nuanced, restrained performance, Robin visits old haunts (including an underground fight club), acquaintances and memories. Appearing as the ghost of a past life, those who look upon him do so with a mixture of concern, wary compassion and dread.

Accompanied by restaurant seller and only semblance of a friend, Amir (Alex Wolff, who deserves great praise for a strong supporting performance), to whom he previously sold the highly prized truffles, Robin appears to have one and only goal: finding his pig. And it is here that the film’s quirky billing could have delved into a variation of the Taken or John Wick man-on-a-mission, revenge-style territory, but Pig has far more flesh on its bones. A sprightly runtime of just over 90 minutes feels both nimble and epic in its sweep. Encounters and myriad conversations – a measured warning on the risk of a devastating earthquake is acutely alarming – slowly build a head of steam that propel the simple, sincerely affecting narrative towards a kind of catharsis, a new understanding.

Coming to realise that Robin’s bloodied appearance is an outward manifestation of internal, unseen wounds, there are hidden depths beneath the tough exterior of Sarnoski’s film. When Amir’s cutthroat restaurateur father, Darius (Adam Arkin), enters the fray, an inability to deal with grieving the loss of a loved one – be they human or otherwise – will, for better or worse, unite all three men. Seeking to maintain his image of sophistication for the vacuous, high-end Portland ‘it’ crowd, Amir’s classical music tutorial CDs speak to the import of “Melody, harmony and rhythm.” And it must be said that Pig, a very impressive debut feature, doesn’t miss a beat or hit a bum note.