"A farmer is followed with a camera while he handles his daily chores, bathes, feeds the animals, eats, plays games, places doll heads on birds, plays bizarre games with his animals, chases his pig around, has sex with the pig, takes care of the resulting piglets, kills some animals, prepares tea and food out of his own feces, collects dead things in jars, eats various repulsive things and vomits. There is no dialog, only a bizarre soundtrack. This probably has some artistic symbolism or message, but frankly, I don't care what it is."
— Zev Toledano, The Worldwide Celluloid Massacre
The farmer searches frantically for his belovèd, and finds her sequestered in a pile of mulch. She's about to give birth to their half-human piglets.
That's impossible, I say.
But this is Art, says the movie.
The fuck it is, I say, and on we go.
That's impossible, I say.
But this is Art, says the movie.
The fuck it is, I say, and on we go.
— Will Laughlin, Braineater
"Is there pig fucking in the pig fucking movie? Yes there is pig fucking in the pig fucking movie!
— Kyle Kallgren, Brows Held High
