You know, sometimes you’re just in the mood for a film that feels like a gust of cold Nordic air, and “The Huntress: Rune of the Dead” does just that. It’s like stepping into a myth with its windswept landscapes and a sense of mystical unease that screams Sweden in autumn — or maybe Värmland on a dreary summer’s day. This is the kind of movie that makes you wanna grab a kanelbulle, sit back, and lose yourself in the forest of old legends.
The plot is set in a time when the line between myth and reality was thinner than Ulf Larsson’s (may he rest in peace) patience for bad acting. It follows Runa, played with a fierce yet tender edge by Moa Enqvist Stefansdotter, as she faces both outer threats from Viking marauders and inner fears that haunt the dense woods. The rune of the dead thing? It adds a layer of mystery that sort of works, though I suspect the runes are as much for mood as they are for narrative clarity.
The cinematography is crisp — you can almost feel the cold seeping in through the screen, and that’s both a compliment and a warning. It reminded me of a fishing trip up north, where I spent more time bundled up by the fire than catching anything. But hey, the vibes were immaculate, as the young folks say.
However, I’m not entirely convinced about the balance between action and drama. Sometimes it’s like watching “Ronja Rövardotter” with a sprinkle of “Vikings”. Maybe it’s just me, but some scenes felt more drawn out than a summer night in Kiruna. There’s charm in its imperfections — like that time I attended a film festival in Göteborg and got lost in both the films and the city. This film’s journey feels somewhat like that: wonderfully disorienting yet familiar.
