Eggers’ sword and sorcery viking fable is every bit as dark as his horror.
The Northman is a raw, unrelenting plunge into the blood-soaked heart of vengeance and destiny, a cinematic saga that wields brutality like a battle axe yet manages to cut deeper with its stark exploration of fate, family, and ferocity. Robert Eggers’ third feature film plants its boots firmly in the mud of Viking mythology, offering an epic that is both savagely primal and mystically profound, a work steeped in historical authenticity and folkloric grandeur.
At its core, The Northman is a deceptively simple revenge tale. Alexander Skarsgård plays Amleth, a prince robbed of his birthright after witnessing the murder of his father (Ethan Hawke) at the hands of his uncle Fjölnir (Claes Bang). The boy flees his homeland but vows to return, reclaim his kingdom, and avenge his family. Years later, as a hulking, feral warrior, Amleth seizes the chance to fulfil his destiny. While the narrative echoes Hamlet – itself inspired by the Scandinavian legend of Amleth – Eggers eschews Shakespearean introspection for a guttural, elemental ferocity that feels deeply rooted in the harsh realities of the Viking Age.
Skarsgård is a force of nature in the lead role, his performance embodying the physicality and animalistic rage of a man driven by a singular purpose. He prowls through the film like a wolf, barely containing the raw power and anguish roiling within. Yet it’s the moments of stillness – Amleth staring into the icy abyss of his own soul – that anchor his performance, revealing the character’s humanity beneath the berserker’s exterior.
Eggers’ direction is meticulous to the point of obsession. From the evocative landscapes of Iceland to the brutal intimacy of hand-to-hand combat, every frame is steeped in the dirt and mysticism of Viking lore. His collaboration with cinematographer Jarin Blaschke results in starkly beautiful compositions that juxtapose the vastness of nature against the claustrophobic, blood-streaked interiors of Viking life. The visuals feel almost hallucinatory at times, as the film weaves surreal visions and mythological flourishes into the grounded brutality of its setting. It’s not uncommon for the story to veer into the otherworldly, as dreams of Valkyries and the haunting spectre of Yggdrasil loom large, reinforcing the inescapable pull of fate.
The supporting cast adds layers of darkness and complexity to this tale of vengeance. Nicole Kidman is particularly compelling as Amleth’s mother, Queen Gudrún, whose allegiances and motives lend a sharp edge to the familial drama. Anya Taylor-Joy, as Olga, a cunning and resourceful Slavic slave, is more than just a love interest; her dynamic with Amleth adds an unexpected depth, hinting at the possibility of redemption amidst the carnage. Claes Bang brings a weary gravitas to Fjölnir, a villain whose complexity prevents him from being a mere caricature of evil.
Thematically, The Northman wrestles with the cyclical nature of violence and the corrosive power of vengeance. Eggers never glorifies Amleth’s quest for retribution; the film’s unflinching brutality strips away any romanticism, leaving only the hollow, haunting consequences of living for bloodshed. Yet, it also embraces the mythic dimensions of its story, uniting the grit of history with the transcendence of legend.
While The Northman is undeniably ambitious, it may not be to everyone’s taste. Its deliberate pacing and tonal intensity demand patience, and its refusal to sanitise the savage realities of its world might alienate those expecting a more conventional Viking romp. But for those willing to surrender to its primal howl, the film offers an experience as starkly beautiful and unforgiving as the Nordic wilderness itself.
Eggers has crafted a work that feels like a lost fragment of history – a tale of gods and men, bound by blood and destiny. The Northman is not just a revenge epic; it’s a brutal, visceral symphony of violence and transcendence that leaves a lasting mark on the cinematic battlefield.
