Sweetgrass

Sweetgrass, released in 2009, is an experimental documentary unlike the mainstream cinema you might be accustomed to. The film, directed by Ilisa Barbash and Lucien Castaing-Taylor, captures the visceral and visually arresting transcendental journey that a flock of sheep embarks upon in the pristine wilderness of Montana.

Leaning on the aesthetics of cinéma vérité, the film serves as a poignant exploration of a timeless way of life on the cusp of extinction. There are no talking heads, no narrative-driven interviews, and no authoritative voiceovers. Instead, Sweetgrass presents an immersive, unadorned, and achingly beautiful echo of an era that’s rapidly retreating into the annals of forgotten history.

The film unravels over the span of two hours, chronicling the last trek of a pair of modern-day cowboys entrusted with a herd of over 3000 sheep. The shepherds' adventure underlies the grueling annual migration that their 19th-century counterparts would undertake. Traversing along treacherous ravines and snow-capped peaks, the sheep are led over a 150-mile journey from Montana to the lush, virgin pastures in the pristine Absaroka-Beartooth mountains.

Opening with mundane scenes of ranch life, Sweetgrass gradually becomes an eloquent testament to the daunting yet simultaneously mesmerizing interaction between man, animal, and the landscape. It takes on a meditative quality as it shifts from the quiet isolation of the ranch, through the rhythmic patter of the flock, mountains echoing with bleats and barks, and into the all-consuming solitude of the territory into which they ascend.

Acting as silent observers, Barbash and Castaing-Taylor allow the film to draw from the myriad sounds and breathtaking imagery of the untamed wilderness, encapsulating the enormous scale of the journey by harnessing the raw elements of the vast natural environment. The blending of the murmurs of wheels against gravel, the distant rumble of thunder, the symphony of wind against tree leaves, and the ceaseless, at times almost hypnotic, bleating of the sheep, create a foundational soundscape that blends seamlessly to tell a story of an arduous but necessary journey.

The film intends to avoid Hollywood's formulaic tropes - there’s no orchestral music underlining dramatic moments, no contrived plotline to manipulate emotions, and no artificial tension or closures. The audience becomes a silent participant, sharing in the cowboys affection, struggle, frustration, and sheer exhaustion. The screenings stir an overwhelming sense of intimacy between humans, animals and the landscape.

Contrasts also ring powerfully through the film. The tranquil Montana valley serves as an unexpected backdrop to the often chaotic and unrefined sheepherding treatments. The stoic, gruff cowboys almost childishly engage in nursery rhymes to soothe the restless herd. Moments of quiet are disrupted by a sudden avalanche of moving sheep; brief explosions of riotous activity are followed by long stretches of serene calmness. These counterpoints bring an unexpected vibrancy to the film's quiet observational style.

Towards the end, the pastoral idyll is disrupted. The terrain becomes more inhospitable, the weather more unpredictable, all embodying the increasing hurdles rancher lifestyles are facing in the contemporary world. This shift calls attention less to the romanticized aspects of an antiquated way of life and more to the unflinching reality of its struggles.

Sweetgrass treads fluidly between the lines of ethnography, historical documentation, and moving poetry. As the camera patiently registers the details of the journey - the dew-kissed grass, the slow drift of clouds over undulating hills, the startled flight of a bird - the film becomes a lingering hymn for a bygone era.

Sweetgrass is more than just a film; it’s an experience. The documentary lends a profound respect to the dignity of hard work amidst a breathtaking natural tapestry, honoring it not with grandiose words, but with honest, unfiltered observation. As much as it documents the changing American West, it also becomes the symbol of the resilient spirit inherent in facing change with resolve and determination.

It is a rich tribute to not only the fading tradition of pastoral ranchers but also an observant exploration of the complex network between man, beast, and nature. The film is a panoramic spectacle, a shepherd’s travelogue, a transient journey wrapped in a humane narrative. A visual poem told with grace, Sweetgrass is an unforgettable experience for those who dare to step outside the confinement of mainstream cinema. It is an artful eulogy bidding farewell to an era that has molded the American West's unique identity, making it a testament to a dying tradition.