Nicolas Cage in Pig

I am not a Nicholas Cage fan. But this year I watched two movies that probably reveal something I suspected…

He's a good actor; he's just been in some dreadful movies.

Of course, these are just tastes. But every person who exposes himself through art and creation should be able to accept bad comments as well as good ones. After all, there is no trick here. We simply talk about the joy of a viewer who watched a film and enjoyed it.

So, the first film was The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. Good idea. Bad execution.

The second one was Pig, by Michael Sarnoski. For this film I will talk. 

Even the title is as provocative as it needs to be. One of the most misunderstood mammals. Interwoven with stench and wickedness, cunning, malice, and oppression. Yes, oppression, after the genius work of George Orwell. But, for exactly these reasons the title works as the perfect bait to show something good. Because it is the contrast that emphasizes the idiom.

The Plot

A man is living somewhere in a forest. The scenery is beautiful but heavy. The first shot…a dark river. A river also, Acheron, was the place where life met death in Ancient Greek mythology. Keep this in mind. With no direct visual clues about him, we quickly understand that his only companion is a cute little pig. This man is dressed in rags. He appears indifferent, dark, and alone. We quickly realize that he is a truffle collector. The young merchant -Alex Wolff as Amir- who comes to collect his precious commodity clearly does not care for him and rather despises his supplier. The Collector - and what a different Collector from John Fowles' masterpiece of the same name - pays no attention to what seems to be his only link with the outside world.

His only reward for collecting the very expensive truffles, without talking or haggling, is only some food for his living. 

One night, two strangers steal his pig, beating him severely. Disregarding his condition, the blood on his face, the dirt, and the pain, he makes his way to a coffee shop in the nearest town, where he calls and communicates with his dealer. Together, they start the search for the animal. But, together, they start a return journey. 

The young man is wealthy and comes from a well-known, successful, and powerful family in his hometown, Oregon.

I won't go into details about the rest of the film for the sake of those who haven't watched it yet.

In the first part, especially, the words are counted. Silence is there. But with a directorial advantage. Where European cinema has accustomed us to the meaningless, here the director achieves a logical, internal explanation for each viewer. No need to say more than necessary. 

The young man is actually living his own Golgotha. He lives estranged from his father, who rejects him, while his mother is in a coma. The money and success he chases are the cheapest and thinnest disguise of his life. His initial aversion to the truffle collector (Cage) turns into deep human feelings. 

The truffle collector was a hugely renowned chef in Portland, who, after the death of his wife, retired to this hermit’s life. But there is something even more powerful. Even though this clochard, a bum, hasn’t been able to deal with his own pain - from the death of his wife - he is still human.

While we were watching the movie my son wondered why the hero wasn't washed when he started this quest. And, exactly at this moment, an Epiphany happened ... 

Cage visits his old home in the city, sits on the front steps, and talks to a child. 

For the child, this rag-dressed bum is a completely normal person. The child does not consider clothes, properties, or titles. The child sees only the face of a man. 

The reverse… Will Christ, Buddha, or ultimately whoever represents God to you, examine clothes, qualities, or property? And if you meet him, will this be done by appointment, telephone, or through consultation? 

And if this is going to happen, will it happen suddenly? Like a lightning bolt? Will He come as a leader, as a Hollywood star, as a very rich person, or as a president of the republic?

He has come and He is coming every day. How?

Like a soft breath of wind. Forgive me, but it's the movie that feeds me. Because it's a film about return, a film about recognition, a film of substance. And above all, it is this film that, after Marcel Camus'1959 Orfeu Negru, is the closest to the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, the myth that speaks so emphatically about the most important things in life. Love, death, separation, return, eternity. 

Two scenes stand out. In the first in a secret dive under an old hotel, the collector goes, speaks with the organizer -an old acquaintance of his- and agrees to be beaten for a fee. 

He does so in order to find the kidnapper of his animal. The one who hits him silently seems to be someone who works in restaurants; from the clothes, he looks like a waiter. 

Before, the collector, this wretched man, has revealed his identity. He is, was, the top chef in the town. Not a common success but someone who excesses in any possible qualities in his profession. Someone who remembered every single meal that he ever served, every single customer, every single word he exchanged with a person.

Money was the “ransom” the guy used to beat the collector. Money was the “ransom” for the information the collector needed to find his way in his quest for the pig. Money - as a coin that the ancients put in the dead's mouth - was the necessary ticket so that Death would pass the deceased to the other world across the Acheron River.

So, he gets the first clue.

He goes to a restaurant where we have the director's biggest gift. The name of the restaurant, Eurydice.

All these are not a painstaking game of some intelligent person who is torturing us. It is the necessary “ransom” we all have to pay for knowledge. He talks to the chef. It turns out the chef was someone the collector had fired years ago for his mistakes. When this spotless chef recognizes his old teacher in the face of the dirty bum, there is an explosion. The new chef falls apart. The supposedly successful cook meets with the truth in his life. He meets his true self. It frightens him, and so he sits exhausted and broken with the truffle dealer and the collector; the unwrinkled completely wrinkled; the successful completely empty; the well-known truly unknown to himself.

The old chef always remembers every detail. The collector recalls that the, then, young and clumsy apprentice cook had a dream of opening a pub rather than serving sophisticated gourmet dishes. 

Here, too, each of us must ask ourselves…

Have I followed the path of my true life? Have I followed my true desires? Have I become the man or woman I dreamed of? 

There's always a rosebud to haunt us (the gift from Orson Welles), precious heritage, and relentless control.

I stop here. I dare express a definition.

Important art is truly philanthropic art. Not a game of the few for the few. All this decay not after a few generations but after a few weeks. (Godard is dead, but damn it no one actually enjoyed his films). 

There is always the truth, and there is always a lie.

The hero of the film says with complete honesty: "I love the pig". Nothing more, nothing less. Everything deserves our love. There are no lower and higher things. Everything is worthy of our devotion and tenderness.

Life Is the devotion and tenderness themselves.

The journey to the underworld is difficult, impossible for most, unnatural, inhuman. No normal person ever did it. In Greek mythology, it is the privilege of Orpheus, the divine musician, and Odysseus, the cunning traveler. (Maybe someone else did it, too. Death may have done away with him. I leave that to your choice.)

I am not talking about Cage's performance. And this is where he is so commendable. His acting is so correct that we don't have to say "here he did this, there he did that". There is not a trace of exaggeration. There is no such thing as the horrible sin of many actors… self-promotion. 

He doesn’t do tricks; he doesn’t play games or juggles. He does only as much as is needed. His interpretation is solid, simple, doric. It is a gift built on the correct guidance of the director and all the rest contributors to the film.

A work of art, real art, is the child of many people. Just like our words. We own nothing in this world. No one takes anything with him afterward. 

A great work, a creation, and most importantly, true feelings, are given and spread to all by those who succeed in doing good. And good can be the meanest or the most precious. It is not the value of the metal, the canvas, or the material that builds the essential. Always, the immaterial surpasses the material. 

Thank you, Nicolas Cage; thank you Michael Sarnoski.