John Keats famously wrote, A thing of beauty is a joy forever; its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness."" Ali Selim seems to have taken these words to heart in his first feature film, ""Sweet Land."" Set in 1920s rural Minnesota, the film is a study in beauty, wearing its nostalgia on its sepia-toned sleeve. All the elements are there: rustic baseball games, an old victrola pouring waltzes over the corn fields, midnight walks beneath the aurora borealis and a local priest who quotes""well""Keats of course. It's unfortunate that in a film of almost painterly beauty, Selim's narrative should plod along at such a glacial pace, making for a viewing experience that, appropriately enough, is about as interesting as watching paint dry.
Sloppily sandwiched between two frame narratives, the bulk of ""Sweet Land"" concerns Olaf, a hard-working Midwestern farmer; and Inge, the mail-order bride he sent for. Arriving on a train with only a victrola and an English phrase book, Inge is the classic fish out of water, waltzing in a community that doesn't condone dancing and cloyingly responding to offers of food with the one English phrase she knows: ""I...could ... eat ... a ... horse.""
Trouble begins, however, when Olaf learns that contrary to what he'd been told, Inge is German not Norwegian, a discovery that in a post-WWI clime ignites xenophobia from the locals. Moreover, as Inge lacks proper naturalization papers, she and Olaf are unable to wed, and further unable to cohabitate in a community governed by good ol' Christian propriety. What follows then, is a love story of two strangers""ostracized from their community and separated by language""who, in the face of adversity and pre-marital woe, turn to the only logical recourse: two hours worth of longing glances and pouting lips.
To be fair, the film is not without merit. In addition to the gorgeous cinematography and production values, Elizabeth Reaser, as Inge, is magnificent, and given her character's lack of English, spends most of her time in silence. Her emotive face rivals the work of the silent film greats. It's to Selim's credit that he trusts his actors enough to sustain silence, placing them amid stunning natural backdrops that echo the lyricism of Terrence Mallick's ""Days of Heaven,"" or better yet""Keats. It's when the characters talk, however, that the film falters.
Alan Cumming, as Olaf's best friend, is horribly miscast, delivering his lines in a manner that evokes a 1920s Pee-wee Herman. And, while supporting thespians John Heard and Ned Beatty are more grounded in their performances, their lines leave them little dimension, manifesting in simple variations of: ""We don't trust Inge because she's different."" For a filmmaker like Selim, who's obviously capable of evoking an earnest humanism, it's unfortunate he comes up so short on subtlety.
Not unlike Olaf and Inge's relationship, the making of ""Sweet Land"" has been a labor of love, allegedly taking 15 years to complete. For his efforts, Selim was nominated for the Independent Spirit Award's Best First Feature, the indie equivalent to the Oscars. What its lauders fail to recognize, however, is that contrary to Keats' words, sometimes beauty is not enough, and in light of a story that fails to deliver, the viewer is merely left with pretty images, ""passing into nothingness"" as the credits roll.
