Happy People: A Year in the Taiga
An unforgiving expanse one-and-a-half times the size of the United States, where a temperature of 30 degrees below zero Fahrenheit is considered a mild day in the winter, the Siberian Taiga is reachable only by helicopter or boat. The movie centers mostly on Gennady, a middle-aged trapper who oversees a 900-square-mile parcel of land, consigned to him during communist times, where he clears snow from his main cabin and outpost dwellings, splits wood to make skis, strips birch tree bark to make a homemade mosquito repellent, and constructs and sets 1,000 traps during the springtime months — all using techniques passed down for many generations.
Happy People was originally birthed by Vasyukov, who, not terribly unlike the filmmakers of Restrepo, lived for over a year with his subjects in remote Siberia, in order to craft a four-hour work for Russian television that captured and celebrated this fading way of life. This film represents Herzog's edit of that, but it's no mere unthinking abridgement. Anchored by a characteristically ruminative voiceover from the filmmaker, Happy People also reflects Herzog's passion and fascination for the often unforgiving nature of the wild.
The footage itself is fascinating, but more in line with something like Interview Project or Darwin: No Services Ahead than the willful aesthetic remove of Lucien Castaing-Taylor's minimalist Sweetgrass. Vasyukov and Herzog have a keen, intuitive grasp of when to let this material speak mostly for itself — as with the construction of a wooden canoe by one of the last indigenous persons trained in the craft — and when and where to interweave Gennady's ruminations on his work and life, and its relationship to something like domesticated farming ("In the wild an animal knows that no good can come from me, from man — here, it's about who outsmarts whom").
Living in such extreme conditions is part of its story, but Happy People also highlights the dignifying effects that nature has on humans. In this sense, the film's surprising emotional scope is as expansive as its setting. It's a mesmerizing portrait of human resilience, but a reminder as well that we remain tethered to the natural world, despite our increasingly wireless existence in a digital age. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Music Box Films, unrated, 94 minutes)