Deftly directed by Pål Øie, Kraken is a deliberately-paced genre chiller that's part monster movie and part eco-thriller with a sprinkling of romance melodrama thrown in. It takes its time in setting up for the big finale, but those willing to engage with Øie's specific vision are rewarded with spectacle unlike anything we're used to in the Nordics.
Set in the world's deepest fjord, located in the divinely beautiful countryside of Norway, Kraken starts with a bang before settling into a surprisingly meditative pace for a good chunk of the film.
Øie sets up the stakes immediately with a finely crafted riff on Jaws, where an unseen force hunts a jetski in the fjords. There is tremendous use of scale at play, and Øie has a remarkable understanding of what makes the creature feature work. By forcing us to engage with all of the material first, the fjord itself becomes a major player in audience expectations. Whenever we gaze upon its beauty, which is often, Øie forces us to ask whether or not the monster is present at this moment.
True to the genre, not all characters are created equal, and Kraken has a bit of bloat with pointless plot threads that lead nowhere. The film credits three writers alongside Øie, who came up with the original story, and not all of their sensibilities work together. A tighter second act could easily work without sacrificing the teasing setup for the tremendous finale.
At one point, where we follow a group of well-intentioned but hopelessly clueless eco-warriors, a lovelorn biologist and his former flame who has returned to the village to inspect a salmon farm, the unscrupulous CEO of said farm who still tries to be a good father, and the wife of the CEO, who also doubles as a cop trying to keep peace, Kraken risks spiraling completely out of control.
Luckily, Øie pulls the disparate threads together at the last minute for a final act that's astonishing in scope, at least for anything made in this part of the world. There are elements of Roland Emmerich, Ronald Neame, and even traces of Hayao Miyazaki's melancholy tales of nature at war with society, which work together surprisingly well. Øie's characters, while paper-thin, prove just interesting enough that their struggles to survive are exciting and meaningful.
In one bravura sequence, the titular kraken finally appears in full, and Øie fills the screen with equal parts wonder and terror. There's a big, fit-for-IMAX shot here that is so hauntingly beautiful it stands alongside any major Hollywood production, and it works because Øie has taken the long road to get there first.
Kraken is a different kind of monster movie. It doesn't work if you don't engage with it. You can't treat it as second-screen content. If you immerse yourself in the seemingly mundane routines and down-to-earth storytelling that unravel in the face of nature, Kraken reveals itself as a slow-burning marvel, one that feels like old folk tales come to life.
