The Draugr

The Draugr (2022): A Chilling Descent into Norse Horror and Myth

The Draugr (2022) is a gripping and atmospheric horror film that breathes terrifying new life into ancient Norse mythology. Directed by Icelandic filmmaker Hrafn Gunnarsson, the film masterfully blends supernatural horror with slow-burning psychological tension, resulting in a haunting exploration of death, isolation, and the wrath of forgotten gods. Drawing inspiration from the folkloric undead known as draugar—malevolent spirits from Norse legend—the film presents a chilling vision that lingers long after the credits roll.

Set in the remote, snow-covered wilderness of rural Norway, The Draugr follows Erik (played by Johannes Haukur Johannesson), a grieving archaeologist who returns to his ancestral village following the mysterious death of his father. With his estranged sister Liv (Ingrid Bolsø Berdal) in tow, Erik plans to uncover the truth behind a series of strange occurrences that have plagued the village ever since an ancient Viking burial mound was disturbed during logging operations. As the siblings delve deeper into their father’s research and the lore surrounding the region, they uncover a terrifying secret: a draugr has been awakened.

The draugr, according to Norse myth, is an undead warrior who rises from the grave to protect its treasures and torment the living. In the film, this creature is not only a physical threat but a psychological one—its presence corrupts the minds of those nearby, distorting time, memory, and perception. Gunnarsson builds the horror slowly, relying more on dread and atmosphere than cheap jump scares. The isolated, frozen setting becomes a character in itself, amplifying the themes of loneliness and ancestral guilt that echo throughout the story.

Johannesson delivers a deeply compelling performance as Erik, a man haunted not only by grief but by a legacy he cannot escape. His descent into obsession mirrors the unraveling of his sanity, as dreams blur into reality and ancient forces claw their way into the present. Berdal’s portrayal of Liv offers a grounded counterbalance; she is rational and skeptical, but her emotional vulnerability makes her arc equally affecting as she is drawn into the mounting terror.

The film’s cinematography is stunning—bleak yet beautiful—with wide shots of icy landscapes and dimly lit interiors that enhance the sense of claustrophobia. Sound design plays a crucial role, using distant whispers, guttural growls, and the creaking of old wood to keep audiences on edge. The draugr itself is terrifyingly realized: not a mindless zombie, but a spectral entity whose grotesque presence suggests centuries of rot and rage.

What sets The Draugr apart from typical horror films is its thematic depth. It explores the idea that the past, especially one soaked in blood and violence, can never truly stay buried. The film meditates on inherited trauma, the dangers of disturbing sacred ground, and the price of cultural amnesia. It poses unsettling questions: What do we owe the dead? And what happens when we forget the old pacts?

In conclusion, The Draugr (2022) is a standout entry in the modern horror genre—a film that fuses myth, mood, and meaning into a tightly woven tale of terror. With its eerie atmosphere, strong performances, and mythological underpinnings, it delivers not just scares, but a sense of ancient unease that chills to the bone.