Diego Luna’s third narrative directorial feature, “Mr. Pig,” stars Danny Glover and Maya Rudolph as an irascible father and long-suffering daughter on a fateful road trip from Southern California to the Jalisco region of west-central Mexico. Their seriocomic journey is colored by grace notes of direction and performance, but it’s also rather undercooked in the script department, the somewhat uneventful, not-particularly-insightful progress proceeding at a pace somewhere between leisurely and soporific. Pic will need critical support to get a leg-up in any theatrical exposure, with modest prospects in home formats.
Already evading calls from his only child Eunice (Rudolph) when we meet him, 75-year-old Ambrose (Glover) is hiding several things from her — not least the fact that he’s losing his hog farm to the bank. Nor has he informed her he’s about to hit the road on a southbound mission with his last remaining livestock, a handsome mud-colored heifer called Howie. Making it past the border (though not past a couple bribe-siphoning local cops), he, his hog and his omnipresent bottles of booze catch a few winks where they can, not bothering with the formalities (or expense) of motel rooms. Their destination is the ranch of Payo (Jose Maria Yazpik), whose late father was a great friend of Ambrose’s.
After a night of good food and better tequila, however, our protagonist gets a gander at the factory-farm conditions Payo keeps his livestock in, and impulsively cancels his planned sale of Howie — even though the thousands Payo was prepared to pay (for old times’ sake) were intended to be Eunice’s inheritance. By the time she shows up, worried sick about her evasive and inebriated father, both man and beast are ill; it turns out Ambrose has been hiding health issues far more serious than yet another hangover. Still, he insists on continuing the journey — now to another old friend further south who promises a happy home, and perhaps some cash, for the massive pig who itself is the last of a prize-winning line.
It’s good to see Glover — whose insanely prolific, undiscriminating resume of late has made room for such unpromising obscurities as “Day of the Mummy,” “Ninja Immovable Heart” and “Bad Asses 3” — get a substantial leading role in a movie that isn’t low-grade cheese. He traces Ambrose’s rapidly deteriorating physical with ease. But psychologically, the script (by Luna and his “Abel” collaborator Augusto Mendoza) just doesn’t provide a lot of depth to work with — for him or for Rudolph, also a welcome presence in a rare non-comedic role. Their conscientious performances only go so far to maintain involvement in a tale that has no real reason to reveal so little of its protagonists’ shared family past. It also could have used some more flavorful incidents along a spare narrative route that too frequently feels on the brink of aimlessness.
The overall result is not exactly dull, but given the talent and potential here, should have been more poignant and memorable. There is, however, a charming fadeout that finally renders the pig co-star more than just a novel plot device.
Shot more or less chronologically to suit the story’s geographic itinerary, “Mr. Pig” benefits from Damian Garcia’s crisp widescreen lensing of diverse Mexican landscapes. There’s also a pleasant original score by Camilo Froideval, and a nice selection of various-artist golden oldies (not yet credited in Sundance preem print’s end scroll) presumably culled from Ambrose’s 1960s youthful heyday.