The Biggest Little Farm
2019 documentary
Rating: 15/20
Plot: A couple, following an eviction because of their barking dog, buys 200 acres of dead soil and attempts to make it into a successful farm while living in complete harmony with nature.
The self-congratulatory nature of this documentary with constant narration should have probably bugged me a lot more than it did. The characters are a little too flawless, and if somebody other than Mark Chester had made this documentary about the efforts of him and his wife to create this farm that is in perfect harmony with nature from 200 acres of dead soil, that might not have been an issue at all. My biggest surprise was that I wasn't completely annoyed by these people. Their persistence, their ingenuity, their willingness to cooperate with others and give the others credit, and their overall vision ended up being inspiring in what might be the most feel-good documentary I see this year.
Things start near the end of their journey with California wildfires that threaten to ruin everything they work so hard for. Then, we flash back six or so years to the beginning of their journey, the catalyst being their dog that has the prettiest eyes I've seen in a movie in a really long time. Early shots of the farm show almost no potential whatsoever. The soil's dead, the whole place looks like a desert, and there's almost no sign of life. Over the next several years, with the help of a kooky mentor and a lot of people willing to help out, the farm begins to thrive although there are all sorts of moments that test their problem-solving abilities and persistence. Coyotes, snails, winds, drought, farm demons. Clearly, nature has the potential to destroy dreams, but an understanding of nature can help people unleash its powers to realize those dreams.
And nature, of course, can be beautiful. The cinematography is terrific, all kinds of lovely shots of this developing farm with its undulating hills and burgeoning foliage, the plethora of animals they bring onto their 200-acre neo-Eden, and all these smaller bugs and insects. The visuals alone make this a documentary worth catching on the big screen.
I'm not sure I buy the chronology of a lot of things that happen here. There are some parallels that are a little too convenient and all. However, that doesn't take away from the central messages of this documentary, and it doesn't distract from the emotional impact. I teared up a little during one very sad moment and one very happy one, and I imagine most people with any sort of heart at all would probably do the same. Not those coyotes though. Those guys are just bastards!
I was alone in the theater for this one until a younger woman walked in about 30 minutes after the movie started. She sat behind me and was fidgety. Then, after about 10 or so minutes, she turned her phone one. She stood up and came down to my row and started to approach me. I figured it was the end for me, but she was just looking under the seats for something. It made me uneasy.
This ends with a Avett Brothers' song that I liked. For that reason alone, I should have brought my life along for this one. She played it after I told her about it when I got home, and I teared up again listening to the lyrics. I'm such a baby.
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