Czech writer-director Adam Martinec has taken on an almost sacred Bohemian ritual in his Karlovy Vary Film Festival Official Competition world premiere “Our Lovely Pig Slaughter.”
The annual display of the film’s title, known in Czech as zabijacka, dates back to at least the Middle Ages and has parallels in many other countries. But what fascinated Martinec about the event, he says, was the rich assortment of characters needed to pull it off.
Most of the men gathered for the winter murder of a Moravian family’s pig reflect the warden himself, he adds.
“Partly it was the bizarre design of the pig slaughter itself,” Martinec explains his fascination. But his real interest in the strange but familial gathering, he says, was “secretly because I had to confront an image of myself as a total idiot.” Every negative person on screen is inspired by me and by studying such individuals and their actions, I teach myself a lesson. I think loneliness is very dangerous and I am afraid of ending up as alone as the main character.”
The film’s beleaguered master of ceremonies, Karel – played by Martinec’s father, Karel – doesn’t get much sympathy from those gathered at the family farm for the murder and the inevitable party that will follow. As he does his best to keep the tribe of neighbors and friends on track, he is haunted by one dilemma after another. An angry daughter resents the way he has treated their mother in the past, who has now gone to her grave, while Tonda, accused of killing the pig himself, has discovered that his ammunition is damp and may does not work.
The family patriarch has now decided that this is the last time he will organize this complicated, expensive and messy event. And of course, a pesky spying neighbor threatens to report the meeting to the authorities, telling them that pet slaughter is now illegal under European Union law.
And that’s before the young boy Dusik, eager to witness his first pig slaughter, is forbidden by his mother, prompting him to run away from home.
Martinec says the boy in particular reflects his own past self.
“The Dusans storyline is inspired by a memory from my childhood,” says the director, “when my mother fearfully protected me from watching the slaughter of a pig at her parents’ home – and I say ‘fearfully’ deliberately because I remember the fear vividly. and fear gripping me over the unknown act of murder as she tried to protect me.
Martinec remembers being close to his maternal grandfather, he says, “but being a city kid to him, I always felt like I was disappointing him somehow. Several years later, just before his death, I had to help him kill the rabbits he and my grandmother raised and which he simply could no longer kill himself. I thought he would respect me more as a man if I succeeded – but then I realized he never cared. He only protected me from murder. He wasn’t particularly proud of being able to do this. He loved those animals and felt sorry for them. Even though it is an everyday experience for the majority of the population of planet Earth, there is something very existential about killing an innocent animal.”
The event is also treated with reverence by Martinec, who introduces the setting of the family farm with the sounds of a historic 15th century Hussite chant rising amid the misty fields as Tonda arrives to take on his role.
The piece, traditionally played at state awards, serves a dual purpose, Martinec says. “On the one hand, it touches on traditional pig slaughter as something that is naturally disappearing. And on the other hand, it thematizes our national identity, with which we seem to be in constant conflict in some respects.”
In a way, Martinec puts a different bow on older generations, as he also lends a kind of gravitas and authenticity to “Our Lovely Pig Slaughter”: the casting of his father in the central role.
“It was a real gamble,” he says. “I wasn’t sure until the very end because my perception of his performance as his son was biased. Even now I’m not entirely sure how he managed that. That’s something the audience will judge. However, he had a great attitude about working with me, which helped us build a new level of respect and understanding.”
A truthful investigation into family was part of the challenge, Martinec adds. “I was interested in how deep wounds are created and the way we sometimes try to ignore them. I was curious about how patterns of behavior are passed on from generation to generation, patterns that we are dissatisfied with, but which we can only change slightly. I also wanted to envision a dark future for myself if I didn’t change anything about myself.”
The director, who will be showing his feature debut at the fest, explains that he is also willing to take the risk of using non-actors, partly because of the rewards it can bring.
‘I don’t want them to take action. I simply orient them to the situation and explain what they want from others. In the vast majority of cases, they handle it themselves because they know these situations well. They are constantly coming up with something new and cannot repeat anything in the same way as actors.”
As for the main event of the film, Martinec has committed to capturing the slaughter in vivid detail, along with the many uses of authentic pig blood, the thorough slaughter and the way in which almost every part of the animal is used – and of which is enjoyed.
If the film is a love letter to meat eaters, Martinec says: “Above all, he says that we should treat animals as best as possible and limit excessive meat consumption. I don’t understand a world where we overlook the horrific treatment of animals just because we want to eat cheap ham seven days a week.”
But he adds: “Vegetarians, please understand the traditional pig slaughter.”
