London Film Festival 2012: Canned Dreams Review

rating: 3.5

When we tuck into a can of food, we probably don't think much about its production and how it came to wind up on our plate, but Katja Gauriloff's probing documentary dares us to, juxtaposing the testimonials of those working on various aspects of the production line with the end result of their work. The stories of the people we meet throughout run the full spectrum of human emotion. Among the most harrowing of accounts is a woman in Brazil working on tin collection duty, who has had to give most of her 12 children away to fight off poverty, while death and starvation has claimed others. She appears full of regret, and ekes out the most meagre and perfunctory of lives at this mine. Elsewhere, a Danish pig farmer laments his never having had a girlfriend, while a co-worker notes her preference of animals to people. In Poland, a butcher angrily recounts his wife cheating on him, candidly explaining how he beats her when drunk, yet credits his children with having saved his life. Others are less alarming; there's the harmless aspirations of three middle-aged Portuguese tomato farmers who simply want their children to get into University, and the Romanian butcher whose discussion about buying his daughter a teddy bear is juxtaposed with his efficient slitting of a pig's throat. Curiously, and for no apparent reason, two other stops along the way - the French egg farmers and the Italian olive oil growers - are left wordless. What's important, though, is where all these roads lead to; a French packing factory in which tins of ravioli are prepped for shipping to Finland, allowing for a striking and thought-provoking final shot. Gauriloff's beautiful visuals capture a range of harsh, lush landscapes, and peculiar sights we're simply not accustomed to; a vast conveyor belt of tomatoes is particularly entrancing, and compliments the melancholic beauty of the various viewpoints and stories throughout. It is worth warning viewers, however, that there are some graphic scenes of animal preparation that might prove upsetting. Canned Dreams ably captures the happiness, sadness, and all the in-betweens of life, if it is resolutely more melancholic than happy, as is the nature of dreams and aspirations. A unique, tender documentary which contrasts the production line of tinned food with the lives of those who work on it.