Peter Dunning is a rugged individualist in the extreme, a hard-drinking
loner and former artist who has burned bridges with his wives and
children and whose only company, even on harsh winter nights, are the
sheep, cows, and pigs he tends on his Vermont farm. Peter is also one of
the most complicated, sympathetic documentary subjects to come along in
some time, a product of the 1960s counterculture whose poetic idealism
has since soured. For all his candor, he slips into drunken
self-destructive habits, cursing the splendors of a pastoral landscape
that he has spent decades nurturing. Imbued with an aching tenderness,
Tony Stone’s documentary is both haunting and heartbreaking, a mosaic of
its singular subject’s transitory memories and reflections—however
funny, tragic, or angry they may be.