Review: Creature Comforts and ‘Pig’ in Michael Sarnoski’s Debut
“We don’t get a lot of things to really care about.”
Robin Feld (Nicolas Cage) never forgets a single meal he’s made, but now he only cooks for himself and his truffle hunting pig. A self-decided hermit of the woods of Oregon for many years, he is content to forage in near- complete seclusion from society. Once a week, a young man (Alex Wolff) in a Gucci belt and sports car arrives to buy their fungal discoveries, precious delicacies of culinary fine art. Only the kidnapping of his swine companion can force him back into the city of Portland, to reenter the underworld he’d turned his back on. Saddled with Amir (Wolff) the truffle dealer as his only transportation option, the two must collaborate to track down the beloved pig together. Their journey takes them through the shadow organization within the culinary industry, an underbelly rooted in Portland’s notorious Shanghai Tunnels that intersect with personal relationships.
Pig doesn’t need to explicitly state the reputations of each character, but simply show what kind of reflection they cast in the people they’re around. Amir performs a type of masculinity and materialism to boost himself out of the shadow of his father, a dealer in high end cuisine. He listens to classical radio for the sake of appearing cultured, and rehearses his lines in private. Wolff permits us peeks at the crack in Amir’s self-serving persona to see an inner side of him that’s still a hurt and scorned son. Amir may begin as a foil for Robin’s idiosyncrasy, but as the affinity between them grows, so do the similarities in their pasts.
Robin’s sensitive ways still hold respect in the hearts of those who remember him, and his name alone is legend enough to strike awe in those who now dominate the foodie scene. He wields this regard to challenge their ego, materializing like a ghost before Chef Finway (David Knell) to dredge up forgotten dreams in his own molecular gastronomy restaurant, aptly called Eurydice. In frank simplicity, Robin explains that when you give up your dreams for the approval of others, you’ll lose yourself to emptiness. Like Orpheus who glances back at the choices he has made on his journey; the shade of his truest desire evaporates before our eyes. For Robin it’s as straightforward as squishing Finway’s snobbish morsel with his thumb.
In the same scene, Finway recalls Robin’s once-beloved establishment Hestia, whose mythological sphere of influence evokes the humble crackle of a hearth fire. He hasn’t let capitalism corrupt his sense of value, in contrast to those who try to steal from him. Robin explains that no other pig could do what she could, but that wasn’t about her acuity for truffles. The pig was never a tool, she was a comfort, a companion, a place of unconditional love. There is no replacement for her in his life, as he devastatingly observes, “we don’t get a lot of things to really care about.”
So when we’ve been trained by our popular culture to expect wrath and violence to follow a mission of revenge, Robin’s pacifist philosophy comes as a subversion. Rarely even resorting to raised voices, his methods are targeted toward emotional connection rather than physical weapons. To the thief of his pig he gives the most specific and personal recompense imaginable, retracing a line from food to hand to heart. He serves mercy, with faint notes of forgiveness.
Part of what resonates most in this moment can be credited to Amir’s wordless attention. He is learning the truth about who claim to dissect classical music and the people who deconstruct scallops, trying so hard to have a sophisticated, erudite view of the world. They are striving to be seen as expressive, deep thinkers, but they’ve missed the point entirely. The classical composers, superficially vaulted for their greatness, were actually using music to process emotion, not to impress others. Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre, Mozart’s Requiem, and Verdi’s Dies Irae are perfect selections for the film, as all are centered on the theme of grief, something that’s been eluding Amir until this point. Without this real feeling, any analysis only amounts to artifice. Anatomizing these human experiences leaves one with parts worth substantially less than the whole.
Robin’s outlook on the world suggests profound melancholy, but there is also a soothing affect to his words. Death, impossible to fathom as it may be, is inevitable to life. One day a collision of tectonic plates will generate an earthquake to wipe most of Portland off the map. What isn’t gone after that will be taken by a giant wave, and then none of it will be left. Rest assured, it will erase you entirely, and there will be dignity in that comfortable oblivion.
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