“Pig,” written and directed by Michael Sarnoski (who co-wrote the story with Vanessa Block) is a film that strains for self-importance. What it does have going for it is a mournful and endearing performance by Nicolas Cage as a loner looking for his kidnapped truffle pig.
Cage’s Robin Feld has been living in a cabin in the woods of Oregon with his truffle pig for more than a decade. The only person he interacts with is slick millennial businessman Amir (Alex Wolff), who drives up to the woodsy area every week to pickup the truffles Robin and his fungi-sniffing porcine gathered up. The tradeoff has Amir giving Robin food and utilities to survive in return for the precious truffles.
It is only barely hinted at, but Robin seems to be mourning the loss of a woman, whose death is never explained, but it was traumatic enough that he’s now become a hermit in the backwoods of Oregon. Robin’s life gets rattled when mysterious intruders break into the cabin and steal the pig. And so, he has to turn to the only person he can trust, Amir, and persuade him to drive to Portland. There, we learn of Robin’s past, his rise to the top of the Portland food scene — how he was a long revered chef before his decision to isolate.
Robin is in search of the scoundrels who stole his pig. Already bruised up by the pig thieves, he spends the rest of the film as a zen-like zombie, uncovering a conspiracy within Portland’s high-end culinary scene. Nobody does self-torment quite like Cage — his performance here somewhat elevates the tepid material by making you care for the thinly written Robin’s minimalist journey.
There is no artistry in “Pig;” the aesthetic is rendered in subdued but ineffective fashion — for lack of a better phrase, it feels so stripped down that the “cinematic” is missing. Everything is simplified to accommodate the pretentious notion that Cage can carry it to some kind of weirdly abstract triumph, but “Mandy” this is not.
Solsinski’s decision to purposely render his film drama-less ends up muting our investment in the tepid stakes of the narrative. Robin’s memories, agonies, his raison d’être, are rendered in coldly inefficient ways. There is no pause for reflection, just empty promises of a better movie that never comes to fruition. Solsinsky ultimately decides not to challenge or provoke, the ideas here fleeting and forgettable, no matter how admirable his ambitions may be. Rave reviews be damned, “Pig” is the kind of boutique arthouse fare destined to be forgotten by Father Time. [C+]