The Juniper Tree

Director: Nietzchka Keene
Writers: Nietzchka Keene 
Starring: ‎ Bryndis Petra Bragadóttir, Björk, Valdimar Örn Flygenring, Geirlaug Sunna Þormar
Year: 1990
Duration: 78 mins
BBFC Certification: 15

As the UK continues to shiver in the face of an unrelenting and miserable winter, it seems fitting that the BFI’s first Blu Ray release of the year is a bleak medieval folk tale set in a rugged, primordial Icelandic landscape. The Juniper Tree, a 1990 adaptation of The Brothers Grimm folk tale of the same name, is the most significant entry of Nietzchka Keene’s short filmography (she sadly passed away in 2004). It is also notable for being the feature film debut of the musician  Björk, who would go on to great critical acclaim in Lars von Trier’s Dancer in the Dark, for which she won a best actress award at Cannes (Björk continues to act to this day – you may have  noticed her as a mystical soothsayer in last year’s The Northman).

Barely seen back in 1990, The Juniper Tree has undergone a new 4K restoration and this new release aims to bring the film to a new and hopefully more appreciative audience. With folk horror’s popularity continuing to grow, now seems like the perfect time for The Juniper Tree to try and stake its place in the cinematic folk horror canon.

The film’s story is pretty simple. After their mother is killed for practising witchcraft, sisters Katla (Bryndis Petra Bragadóttir) and Margit (Björk) need to find a new home. Katla casts a spell on Jóhann (Valdimar Örn Flygenring) a young widowed farmer, in order to make him fall in love with her. As the two witch sisters move into their new home, Jóhann’s young son Jónas (Geirlaug Sunna Þormar) begins to suspect that his new step-mother may harbour magical powers. Yet how far is Katla willing to go to ensure that her gifts remain a secret?

Right from the off, it is clear that The Juniper Tree cannot really be described as folk horror at all, despite several thematic traits that seem to lend itself so heavily towards the genre. Shot in austere black and white, while it may aesthetically recall films such as Rainer Sarnet’s 2017 dark folk fable November (also based, coincidentally, on a Brother’s Grimm fairy tale) the film that The Juniper Tree feels closest too is 1993’s medieval folk tale Anchoress, both of which fuse the supernatural with a more prosaic, rugged reality.

Adopting a deliberately slow and measured pace, The Juniper Tree explores myth and legend in an arty, opaque manner that ensures that what is evoked during the film’s brief running time is more mysterious than terrifying. Eschewing any deliberate attempt to scare her audience, Keene seems intent instead on presenting her two witches and their powers in an almost ordinary manner, capturing their magic as part of the everyday as opposed to adopting a more fantastical depiction. This is not to say that the film avoids mysticism and the occult entirely; several scenes feature a ghost and bizarre occurrences, yet their appearances on screen are captured as truthfully as the craggy Icelandic landscape, often without any embellishments or distractions. 

Just because The Juniper Tree adroitly sidesteps attempts to scare or terrify does not mean that the film turns its gaze away from the darkness of the original Brother’s Grimm tale. In its way, the bleak turn the film takes is every bit as emotionally brutal as the genre’s more infamous offerings, with Keene presenting images that will likely haunt viewers just as effectively as traditional ghosts, demons or ancient spirits. In its exploration of the plight of woman, and the measures they had to take in a brutally patriarchal society, the film often feels as brutal and austere as the cold, windswept landscape that frames the story and its entrapped characters.

Yet Keene doesn’t just effectively capture the Icelandic landscape or powerfully explore a more prosaic depiction of folklore and legend – she also manages to evoke powerful performances out of her cast. Bryndis Petra Bragadóttir offers a thoroughly convincing performance as Katla, struggling to balance both affection and frustration as she attempts to engrain herself into her new family. Geirlaug Sunna Þormar is remarkable as Jónas, exhibiting both a steely resolve and innocent naivety into an often heartbreaking portrait of a grieving child. Björk herself provides the film’s most beguiling performance, exhibiting a sweet guilelessness that offer the only chinks of light among the darkening shadows.

In a time when folk horror and interest in legend seems to be continually in the ascendant, The Juniper Tree is certainly a film that we should be glad has been brought back from the depths of obscurity. It offers a dark, humanist take on folklore and myth, providing a refreshingly alternative look at themes and tropes that are usually just mined for the ability to terrify. Yet the film’s austerity and pace often work as much against it as for it, at times veering so close to experimental art that many may be put off. Ultimately, its stark beauty is matched by a detached opaqueness that makes the The Juniper Tree an easy film to admire but a harder one to love.

Film:

The Juniper Tree is being released on Blu Ray by the BFI. The film has been digitally scanned in 4K from the original 35mm print.The picture isn’t as pristinely sharp as one might expect, but you feel this is due to the original look of the print rather than any subsequent errors. Ultimately, the film looks fabulous in motion with the haunting, desolate look of the film’s locations and smokey interiors faithfully captured. Sound is clear and legible.

The BFI offer quite a stacked disc for this release. First up is a commentary with Icelandic cultural scholar Dr Guðrún D Whitehead. This delves far more (as you would expect) into the background and detail around the myths and stories the film evokes than breaking down the film from a technical perspective, but it is an at times fascinating listen. Anyone with a passion for folklore and history (partially Icelandic!) will thoroughly enjoy it.

There are two interviews on the disc. The first is a 15 minute archival interview from 2002 with director Nietzchka Keene, where she discusses the themes and visual qualities of the film, specifically the theme of witchcraft, and explains her inspiration and goals behind The Juniper Tree. Next up is a new half an hour interview with the films DOP Randy Sellars, who offers an entertaining and amusing look back at the film, where he discusses the film’s various visual influences (Dryer, Tarkovsky, Bergman) the challenges of filming, how various scenes were achieved, as well as working with Bjork and the cast.

As usual with the BFI, they offer a series of complementary short films on the disc. Of most value are three short films from Nietzchka Keene. Still and Aves are two short art films that offer the same sense of disquiet as witnessed in The Juniper Tree (even when they feature dancing nuns). The standout, however, is Hinterland, a half hour film about a lonely farm worker reluctantly taking in a young relative to live with her. Bleak and desolate, with its own hints of the supernatural, I think I may have preferred this to the main film!

The last two films are equally fascinating in their own way. First up is The Witches Fiddle, a rare British folk rarity from 1924 (and which can apparently claim to be the first student film ever made). Its historical importance is probably of more note than the film itself, but it is worth watch. The BFI also include Iceland – The Land of Ice and Fire, a 1922 British documentary about Iceland and her population, which has lots of fascinating footage.

The impressive package is rounded out with the US theatrical re-release trailer and a booklet (included only in the first pressing). This contains an extensive essay on the film by Dr. Deborah Allison, two pieces of writing from taken from the film’s alternative Blu Ray release from Arbelos, a short piece from Screen Slate, as well as a look at Björk from Paul Fairclough.

Overall this is a wonderful package from the BFI.

Disc/Extras: