From 1952, Finland's cinematic work The White Reindeer stands as one of the remarkable lost classics in the rural horror category. Although it received awards at the Cannes Film Festival and the Golden Globes in its day, it remained ignored until a stunning digital restoration was released in the past decade.
Placed on the barren, snowbound hills of northern Scandinavia, the picture offers an eerie, completely ethereal dark fairy tale. This area is occasionally called the Lapland region, though the indigenous Sámi community regard that term as offensive.
Through a haunting introduction, it is predicted that a newborn Sámi girl will transform into a enchantress. She grows into Piriti (acted by Mirjami Kuosmanen), a determined lady who chafes against her isolated reality as the wife of a traveling reindeer keeper.
She seeks relief from a regional shaman, but possibly because of her innate magical abilities, his romance spell fails and transforms her into a vampiric shapeshifter, doomed to pursue and feed on males in the appearance of a pale reindeer.
Kuosmanen wrote the movie with her partner, filmmaker and cinematographer Blomberg. He merges breathtaking documentary footage of Sámi traditions on this lunar terrain with intense visual flair that evokes silent-film expressionist filmmakers like Murnau and Lang.
Shot in black and white and predominantly on actual settings in the natural environment, White Reindeer opposes the blinding bright snow with pitch-black Gothic tableaux, and shifts between them via the liminal twilight of the northern sun.
While the plot is straightforward and the events are plainly laid out, The White Reindeer stays ambiguous and surreal. It is ambiguous exactly what time period it’s occurring.
The logic of the characters’ behavior can be unclear, and the individuals appear isolated, isolated in the enormous negative space of their setting. Moreover that rare breed of monster movie that keeps its emphasis firmly and empathetically on the creature as its point-of-view character.
The lead actress channels the silent greats in a performance wracked with sexual frustration and a powerful craving she struggles to grasp.
Despite its compact 68-minute duration, White Reindeer can feel deliberate, thanks to its sparse storytelling style. But the lead actress's compelling acting, Blomberg’s astonishing imagery, and the film's haunting metaphor for the way a repressive society can stigmatize feminine craving will remain in your thoughts for a considerable time.
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