“There’s madness in its words; There’s sickness in its breath; Beware the Draugr, for its very touch is death.” So goes a snippet of a rhyme that one of the beleaguered townsfolk utters in his sleep during Thordur Palsson’s The Damned. It neatly sets the tone for this unsettling psychological folk horror set amongst the dramatic, unforgiving Icelandic coastline. 

Eva (Odessa Young) is a widower, living in an isolated fishing village that is running perilously low on food, with no sign of a break in the harsh winter conditions. A shipwreck can be seen just off the coast, with those left alive wailing in torment for help. She is torn between encouraging the men around her to attempt a rescue (ultimately causing more mouths to feed). If they choose not to help the survivors, will the community face punishment and damnation? 

Palsson (The Valhalla Murders) opens this Icelandic ghost story with exactly that. We see a snowstorm batter the already frozen landscape – the kind of cold that penetrates the screen – whilst larder shelving hangs bare like a crooked rib cage. We are treated to flickering candlelight and ghostly shadows up the wall whilst a folk tale about feuding brothers and death at sea sets both the villagers, and us as viewers, on edge.

What’s fascinating about this film is that it is set in a time where superstitions, ghost stories, folk myths and prayer were all forming an odd amalgam as communities tried to make sense of events such as poor harvests or strange illnesses. It is this uneven balance of faith and misunderstanding that sets our villagers off on such strange footing. It also places us, as an audience, in an odd position because we cannot always rely on what we are told or, indeed, what we see. 

The film is incredibly atmospheric. There are a few jumpscares here and there but, by and large, this is a story that wants to get under your skin. It wants you to question everything and know nothing. Stephen McKeon’s score strikes the right balance between sonorous, reverberating strings and sharp staccato that sounds like a scream. Eli Arenson’s cinematography allows you to bask in the Icelandic scenery, unable to quite catch your breath at the sheer scale of it all. Eva is often cast as a lamp and a shadow; a small dot making her away across the inky blue of Icelandic night. Doors rattle in the window; branches cast uncanny shapes. This is the perfect landscape to get inside your head. There’s a particularly brilliant scene where Eva and a search party get lost in a thick mountain fog. It’s incredibly disorientating and frustrating; you feel and see exactly what the characters can. 

There are also fascinating elements of Icelandic superstitions brought in. There is a stave, carved into wood and tucked into the doorframe, to protect the men who are going to see. When bodies wash ashore from the shipwreck, the men are told that they must bind their hands, nail their feet and turn their coffins round three times in order to avoid Draugr (an undead creature) haunting the community. In a rare, straightforward horror moment, we see these bodies gurgle and bloat before erupting into a tangle of intestines and eels. But can we really trust our eyes? 

Odessa Young is excellent in the lead role. Eva appears to have more agency than other women of the era, owing to the fact that her husband has left his only fishing boat to her. She is called upon to make decisions; often emotionally stronger than the men around her. Her facial expressions – when confronting something horrific – are reminiscent of a silent film star. Mícheál Óg Lane is excellent as the frightened, wide eyed Aron whilst Lewis Gribben makes for a pious Jonas. Joe Cole, as Daniel, hints at longed-for romance with Eva whilst battling his own demons. As the film progresses, everyone’s face becomes redder and more chapped; eyes are dulled and cheeks are sunken in with a heady mix of hunger and fear. 

What the film gets right is this notion of communal existence that early 19th century villages thrived or died with. What impacts one – whether it be physical or mental sickness – impacts the whole. The threat of the Draugr, here, is a threat to everyone. When Eva herself starts to see a slopping, soaking, rubbery creature hunched over in the corner of her room, she can only assume that everyone else is being plagued in the same way. This escalates into tensions amongst the group and shocking acts of violence. One person’s belief in what they see spreads like a poison. And, as Palsson brings his ghostly folk tale to an end, it is with a deep sense of tragedy. The ending of this film is one you will not see coming; it is desperate and frenzied and, ultimately, heartbreaking. It’s the monsters in your head that do the most damage. 

If you’re expecting and out-and-out gory horror, packed full of slayings and jump scares, The Damned probably isn’t the film for you. But, if you enjoy an unsettling slow burn based on folk tales and ghost stories, this is absolutely worth seeking out. These characters, these myths and this landscape will get under your skin, making you question everything you’ve seen and heard right up until the very last moments.

The Damned will be in UK cinemas from January 10, 2025.