The Draugr (2025), directed by rising Scandinavian horror auteur Ingrid Hallström, is a terrifying blend of Norse mythology, atmospheric horror, and psychological suspense. Drawing from Icelandic sagas and Viking folklore, the film revives one of the oldest and most terrifying creatures in Scandinavian legend—the draugr, an undead warrior cursed to guard ancient graves. With breathtaking cinematography and bone-chilling tension, The Draugr emerges as one of the most original horror films of the year.
Set in a remote Icelandic village buried in snow and myth, the story follows archaeology student Freyja (played by Alicia Vikander), who joins a team of researchers unearthing an ancient Viking burial site. When they disturb a sealed tomb—against the warnings of local elders—they unwittingly awaken a draugr: a rotting, armored revenant with supernatural strength and an insatiable thirst for vengeance.
As the excavation site becomes a hunting ground and reality begins to blur with Norse visions of Hel (the Viking underworld), Freyja must confront both the ancient evil rising from the earth and the ghosts of her own past.
Alicia Vikander delivers a haunting, emotionally layered performance as Freyja. Torn between scientific curiosity and spiritual fear, her descent into terror feels both believable and harrowing. Her internal struggle and eventual transformation into a protector rather than an invader give the film unexpected depth.
Supporting roles by Mads Mikkelsen as a local folklorist and Gustav Lindh as a skeptical expedition leader round out a strong cast that grounds the supernatural elements in real human emotion.
Ingrid Hallström’s direction is masterful. She leans into slow-burn tension and Nordic dread, building unease through silence, harsh natural soundscapes, and striking contrasts between darkened tombs and the endless white snow.
The atmosphere is suffocating and otherworldly, with influences ranging from The Witch to The Thing, but firmly rooted in Viking mythology. The draugr itself is a triumph of practical effects—grotesque, regal, and horrifyingly human in its presence.
The Draugr is not just a horror story—it’s also a meditation on colonial arrogance, ancestral memory, and the thin line between the living and the dead. It critiques the exploitation of sacred lands and challenges the modern belief that everything ancient can be uncovered without consequence.
The tone is bleak, spiritual, and mythic, with flashes of violent horror balanced by quiet philosophical moments and dreamlike sequences of Norse afterlife visions.
The Draugr (2025) is a rare horror gem—original, atmospheric, and deeply rooted in cultural myth. With stunning visuals, powerful performances, and a sense of dread that never lets up, it offers both a thrilling ride and a chilling warning: some graves were never meant to be opened.
