et in rural Iceland, the rolling hills and desolate snow-capped mountains serve as a beautiful and emotional backdrop to the story; the winter air and tungsten-lit sky only adds to its dreariness. The plot is certainly nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to the topics of mortality, love, and loss, and the protagonist’s grief, while seemingly composed, is no more or less sad than other sad films. The aging farmer named Hrafn doesn’t cry, but instead grimaces with weariness, his last chores carefully calculated.

The thing is, this film made me break down and cry like I haven’t cried in months. It wasn’t quite during the fifteen minute duration of watching The Last Farm, no, but shortly after when thoughts started to coagulate into heavy heartache. It’s the device of reflection that capsizes you, whether it’s thinking about the ones you love and knowing that inevitably, they’ll die and how you’d cope with it, or how you might deal with your own mortality.

I discovered the film alongside the gorgeous cinematic photographs taken by Patrycja Makowska. The photos capture a more colorful and vivid side to the Icelandic landscape that the film was shot in, but conveys a whole new level of emotion that I simply can’t express in words. Her other scenic photos from Behance are also worth a look. The Last Farm is spectacular and indeed earned its Oscar-worthy nod in 2006. Looking forward to seeing more work from director Rúnar Rúnarsson.