Movie Review: "Nutshimit: On the Land"

The small audience at the Cinematheque Theatre on Saturday night could be heard murmuring as they watched a caribou get shot, gutted, and then have its brain scooped out with a spoon. The only objection that the aboriginal girl on screen had with the gruesome process, however, was that her grandmother wouldn’t let her eat the eyeball.

“Nutshimit: On the Land” is a documentary that spotlights the Mushuau Innu people of Labrador, one of Canada’s few remaining semi-nomadic hunting bands. The documentary, directed by German filmmaker and photographer Sarah Sandring, focuses on an Innu grandmother as she teaches her grandchildren traditional stories and practices. The film was screened as part of the 9^th Annual Winnipeg Aboriginal Film Festival, an event which showcases indigenous films from across the world.

The rustic culture that Sandring reveals in the film is a far cry from what many city dwellers are accustomed to. The audience’s squeamish reaction indicated that much. When one of the teenage boys in the film fixes his eyes on the black rectangle in his hand, it is hard to believe that he is holding a rock and not an iPhone. These cultural differences permeate the entire documentary, from the language – the film is told using subtitles, as the whole cast speaks in the traditional Innu tongue – to the names of the children, like Thunder and Sage.

And it is this distinct, ancient culture that “Nutshimit: On the Land” strives to maintain. The film, which was commissioned and partially funded by the Mushuau Innu Band Council, stresses the need to preserve the peoples’ traditions and language. At one point, the Innu grandmother, wrapped in a shawl and red headscarf, shuffles across the rocky terrain teaching the youth rituals like the hanging of the caribou antlers. Later, she shows them how to cure a toothache with a chokecherry. Her passion for the traditional lifestyle is obvious, and so is her desperation to see it carried on by a new generation. The film is bookended by the words “to the Innu youth,” a dedication which, after watching the film, feels more like a plea.

The simple beauty of the Innu people is matched by the film’s visual style. Sandring’s photography background is evident in the stunning shots of the snowy Labrador landscape drenched in the glow of a burning, northern sunset. It’s gorgeously unrestrained.

Actually, the only thing constrained about the film is its length. The boundless beauty of Labrador – and the long history of its people – is in stark contrast to the film’s 51 minute duration. The unembellished excerpts of aboriginal life are fascinating, and more detail would have been welcome.  In fact, when the film ended, the only complaint that rose from the audience was one man wishing that he could have seen how the Innu grandmother cooked the caribou brain. However, given that Sandring’s last documentary, “Burmese Nights,” was only 12 minutes long, he should be happy that the film’s as long as it is.

And what’s there to be unhappy about? Over its 51 minutes, the documentary manages to inform, entertain, and overwhelm. In one scene, the Innu elder tells her grandchildren not to forget what they’ve been taught. “Nutshimit: On the Land” may be rooted in stories from the past, but it leaves you thinking about the future.