“Folktales” is a quiet, intimate documentary from Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady that follows three teenagers during a transformative year at Pasvik Folk High School in far northern Norway, not far from the Russian border and well above the Arctic Circle[1]. The filmmakers are known for choosing strong, specific characters over broad subjects, and that choice is front and center here again[1]. Rather than making a film about education theory or outdoor survival, they focus on three young people navigating grief, anxiety, loneliness, and the deep cold of the Arctic while they learn to work with sled dogs, build fires, and trust themselves[1][2].
Ewing and Grady have said before that they do not make films about topics; they make films about people who bring a subject to life[1]. You can see that philosophy in earlier work like Jesus Camp and One of Us, where they enter closed or insular communities but stay very close to a handful of people, letting the audience feel their fears, hopes, and small triumphs[1]. They take the same approach in Folktales. The school, the landscape, the dogs, and the old stories of the North all matter, but everything is filtered through three teenagers: Hege, Bjorn Tore, and Romain[1][2].
Pasvik is part of a long Nordic tradition of folk schools that dates back to the nineteenth century, when these schools were created both to educate people in remote regions and to strengthen communities during turbulent times[1]. The tradition has endured. Today many students take what would otherwise be a gap year and spend it at a folk school, often to challenge themselves, build confidence, and step away from the pressures of academic performance and social media[1][3][4]. At Pasvik, that means dog sledding, hunting, and bushcraft, the practical skills needed to live well and safely in the wilderness[1][2]. It also means a lot of time outdoors in the polar night, learning humility and patience from the weather and from dogs that sense insecurity and demand steadiness from their handlers[1][2].
The film opens its heart to three students. Hege is nineteen, grieving her father who died two years earlier, and she describes herself as someone who overthinks everything[2]. She arrives with far too much makeup for a year in the Arctic, and that small detail says a lot about where she is starting from. She is holding on to comforts that make sense in everyday life but are out of place in a place that asks you to let go and lean into the elements[5][2]. Bjorn Tore, also nineteen, worries that he is annoying and confesses that he does not really have friends[2]. He feels like an outsider and wants to change that but does not quite believe he can. Romain is from the Netherlands and lives with social anxiety and a strong streak of negativity that drags him down when he is most in need of patience and faith in himself[1][2].
The teachers at Pasvik are steady guides. Thor Alte, one of the dog sledding instructors, is patient and blunt in a way that works well in this environment. He explains that dogs can sense the handler’s insecurity, so working with them can unlock something vital in a person who learns to stand grounded and clear[1]. Iselin, another teacher, talks to the students about how modern life confuses the brain and stirs it up in unhelpful ways. The program, she says, is meant to wake up something older and calmer, what she calls the Stone Age brain, the part of us that knows how to read the wind and the snow and the warmth of a fire and a living animal by our side[1][2].
There is no heavy plotted drama in Folktales, no climactic competition or vote or final exam. The drama comes from real people wrestling with fear, doubt, and grief and taking small steps that add up to genuine change[1][2]. In one of the film’s most telling moments, Hege admits after her first night alone in the woods that her fire was terrible. The next night she is in her tent with her dog and a strong fire burning. She figured it out, and from there she begins to find her footing and her confidence grows[2]. Romain’s journey is rougher. He speaks openly about how hard it can be to be alive. He gives up on himself at points, and the camera does not sensationalize that despair. It sits with him and lets the audience feel the weight without pushing for an easy breakthrough[2]. Late in the year, he and Bjorn find each other as friends. They make each other laugh. For young men who thought they might not be able to make friends at all, those shared jokes and easy smiles mean as much as learning to drive a team of dogs or coax a fire from damp wood[2].
The school’s work with dogs is more than a charming detail. Sled dogs require trust, clarity, and consistency. They do not respond well to someone who is hesitant or distracted, and they are quick to notice when a human is not fully present[1][2]. That makes them tough but generous teachers. The film understands this. It spends time on the dogs, their eyes and fur, their breath in the cold, their absolute certainty about the task ahead. One teacher says that a dog can bring out a person’s humanity, and watching these students find their dog twin, the animal they connect with best, you can see what he means[6]. A dog that needs a steady hand asks you to become a steady hand. A dog that is bold can lend you a measure of that courage. Over time, the teens change not through lectures but through the day by day rhythm of feeding, harnessing, running, and resting together with the dogs[1][2][6].
The filmmakers chose to weave Norse mythology through the film. The Norns, the weavers of fate, and the figure of Odin drift through in quiet interludes. The images include red thread twisting around branches, green light moving in the sky, and the small changes of the season seen in frost and melting snow[2]. Some viewers will find these interludes poetic and grounding. Others may feel the film leans on them a bit too often, pulling attention away from the students. Either way, the intent is clear. The school is not about nostalgia or rejecting modernity, but about reconnecting with older stories and rhythms that can help people feel whole, especially when so much in modern life pulls them apart[2].
Cinematography is central to how Folktales communicates this sense of place and interior change. Lars Erlend Tubaas Oymo, credited as director of photography, and Tor Edvin Eliassen as cinematographer, work closely with long zoom lenses and a patient eye that allows the camera to witness without stepping too close or shaping the action[2]. The look of the film moves between the intimate and the expansive. There are close shots of faces full of worry or relief, the twitch of a dog’s ear, the sparks of a fire. There are also long views that let the Arctic breathe, landscapes of snow and sky and the low sun, a world that is both harsh and welcoming if you learn to respect it[2]. The filmmakers like to build a collage of moments rather than a straight chronological line. They mix the human thread with natural details in a way that suggests how the environment becomes a partner in the students’ education[2].
The folk school tradition itself brings deeper context. These schools were started in the 1840s as a way to bring learning to rural communities and to knit together societies in a time of big political and industrial upheaval[1]. That purpose echoes in the modern world. Today many young people are pulled by algorithms and constant updates. Folk schools offer a counterweight. At Pasvik cellphones are not banned, but other reviews and interviews note that their hold on the students often weakens as the months pass and the northern lights and the routines of the dogs prove more compelling than an endless scroll[5][4]. The idea is not digital detox for its own sake. It is about giving real life a chance to compete and often win. The students learn practical skills that matter here. How to read snow. How to stay warm. How to work as a team. How to make a knife or knit a hat. How to camp alone for a few nights and trust that they can meet the night calmly and come out fine the next morning[1][2][4].
Ewing and Grady keep their promise to favor character over argument. They do not lecture the audience about screen time or loneliness or the state of youth. They let the people in front of the camera show what they are living through. The choice has trade offs. Without a driving plot, some viewers will wish for a clearer arc, or feel that the mythic interludes pull too much focus. But the film’s gentle pace matches its subject. Change happens slowly here. Confidence grows after a bad night with a cold fire and a better night with a warm one. Friendship emerges after awkward silences and then a shared joke. Courage builds when a student holds the reins and feels the dogs surge forward and realizes that maybe they can steer after all[2].
There are a few memorable lines that land with the force of a life motto. Thor Alte tells the students to give themselves a fire, a dog, and a starry sky, and then they can do what they want in life[2]. It sounds simple, almost like a fable. In the world of the film it is a serious invitation to find elemental anchors. Warmth. Companionship. Wonder. Those three can carry a person through the hardest stretches.
For Hege, the journey from overthinking and grief to steadiness is not a straight line, but the film captures real movement. For Romain, the path is steeper and the setbacks are painful, but he keeps going. For Bjorn Tore, the discovery that he can make a friend and be liked is as powerful as any wilderness victory. By the end, the students have done more than learn survival skills. They have proved to themselves that they can meet fear with action and self doubt with simple practice repeated day after day[2].
Visually, Folktales is filled with small, unforgettable images. Snow settling on a dog’s back. The pale blue eyes of a Siberian husky reading the world. The shift of sunlight across ice. A sled mounted camera that lets the viewer feel the rough run of the trail as if standing on the runners. A lone tent glowing in the dark while a student breathes more calmly than the night before[2]. These are not flourishes. They are the film’s way of showing interior change without turning it into a speech.
The filmmakers’ method also respects the truth that being observed can change people. They know this and do what they can to pull back. Long lenses. Minimal interference. Letting conversations run their course. Letting silence land. The result feels close but not intrusive, present but not prying[1][2]. It is what they have always done well. Enter a world that is not easily seen from the outside, choose people whose journeys matter, and stay with them long enough for small shifts to be visible.
Folktales is not trying to convince you to move to the far north or to trade your phone for a kennel. It is showing what can happen when young people step into a place that is demanding and beautiful and are guided by teachers who ask a lot and give steady support in return[1][2]. It is interested in what it means to connect the present to the past in a way that is nourishing rather than nostalgic. It is interested in how old stories and old skills can help heal modern frays[2].
By the time the film closes, you can feel that the students have woven a new thread into their lives. They learned to tend a fire and to keep one burning in themselves. They learned to listen to a dog and in doing so learned to listen to their own fear without letting it run the show. They took on cold nights and got through them. They found a friend. Those are victories that do not fade when grades are posted or a season ends. They linger. They make the next step possible.
Ewing and Grady have said that amazing characters bring any subject to life. In Folktales, they have found three who do just that. They open a door into a place where the air is sharp, the sky is wide, the dogs are patient and demanding, and the work of growing up happens quietly, in moments, with hands that get steadier day by day[1][2].
Sources
[1] FOLKTALES movie review & film summary (2025) – Roger Ebert https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/folktales-film-review
[2] Folktales Review: An Evocative Portrait of Self-Discovery in Norway https://thefilmstage.com/folktales-review-a-norwegian-high-school-designed-to-challenge-students-to-grow/
[3] ‘Folktales’ review: Teens connect with nature at a different kind of … https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/movies/story/2025-08-01/folktales-review-norway-heidi-ewing-rachel-grady-pasvik-documentary
[4] The Story Behind Documentary ‘Folktales’ https://time.com/7305451/folktales-documentary-true-story/
[5] ‘Folktales’ Review: A Bracing Education in Arctic Norway https://www.nytimes.com/2025/07/24/movies/folktales-review-bracing-arctic-education.html
[6] “A Dog Really Brings Out the Humanity in a Person”: Heidi … https://www.documentary.org/online-feature/dog-really-brings-out-humanity-person-heidi-ewing-and-rachel-grady-folktales
[7] Folktales – UK Film Review https://www.ukfilmreview.co.uk/reviews/folktales
[8] Leaving the Fold: Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady on ‘One of Us’ https://www.documentary.org/online-feature/leaving-fold-heidi-ewing-and-rachel-grady-one-us
[9] ‘Folktales’ Review: Sweet Doc About a Norwegian “Folk School” https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-reviews/folktales-review-heidi-ewing-1236117807/
[10] Defending ‘Jesus Camp’: An Interview with Director Rachel Grady https://www.beliefnet.com/entertainment/movies/2006/10/defending-jesus-camp-an-interview-with-director-rachel-grady.aspx
[11] Jesus Camp https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0486358/
