The Juniper Tree - Cult Film Review

I stumbled across The Juniper Tree while scrolling through the BFI Player, and the blurb immediately hooked me: a Grimm Brothers retelling, shot in black and white and starring a 21-year-old Björk? Sign me up! This is the Björk before the world knew her as a Sugarcube, the Debut era pixie, the infamous swan dress egg laying savant, or the emotional wreckage of the abuse lead in Dancer in the Dark. Seeing her here is like watching a proto-icon in the wild; she has the raw feel of ethereal whimsy and wonder which feels totally unforced, like she just wandered onto the set from a different dimension. So, how is the film?

Well, the story is a slow-burn meditation on survival and the supernatural. After their mother is burned for witchcraft, two sisters—Margit (Björk) and the older, more calculating Katla (Bryndis Petra Bragadóttir)—flee across the rugged Icelandic landscape. Katla uses a bit of "magic" to charm a grieving widower, Jóhann (Valdimar Örn Flygenring), into taking them in. While Katla tries to secure their place in the home, Margit forms a gentle, fragile bond with Jóhann's young son, Jónas, all while being haunted by spectral visions of her mother.

Visually, the film is arresting, even if the film is a bit of an endurance test story wise. The stark black and white cinematography strips Iceland of its "Land of Fire and Ice" postcard vibes and replaces them with something primordial and punishing. It gives the glacial acting style an evergreen, timeless feel - like you’re watching a folk memory rather than a 1990 movie. This film wouldn't feel out of place in some fever dream you might have had in the 80s after watching one too many of those eerie Eastern European stop-motion animations that used to show on Channel 4 when you were ill and at home recovering but looking for something on daytime tv.

To be totally honest, I feel like I "experienced" this film more than I "enjoyed" it: it’s heavy, somber, and the pacing is as slow as a retreating ice sheet but the visuals and the soundtrack are breathtakingly beautiful, creating a vibe that’s both claustrophobic and vast. If you want to see where Björk’s cinematic DNA began, it’s all right here in this strangely beautiful film.