In the misty forests of Sweden, where the line between human and beast blurs, a customs officer sniffs out more than contraband—she uncovers her own monstrous heritage.

Border arrives like a primal howl from the Nordic wilderness, blending grotesque body horror with ancient folklore in a tale that lingers like the scent of damp earth and blood. Released in 2018, this Swedish gem directed by Ali Abbasi challenges viewers to confront the raw, uncomfortable truths hidden beneath the skin, drawing from the short story by horror maestro John Ajvide Lindqvist. What begins as a quirky border patrol drama morphs into a visceral exploration of identity, desire, and the eternal other.

  • The film’s masterful use of body horror transforms everyday awkwardness into nightmarish revelation, centring on protagonist Tina’s grotesque metamorphosis.
  • Rooted in Scandinavian troll mythology, Border weaves dark fantasy into modern life, questioning humanity’s fragile boundaries.
  • Cultural resonance through critical acclaim and awards highlights its bold fusion of repulsion and empathy, influencing contemporary horror landscapes.

The Olfactory Gateway to Horror

At the heart of Border lies Tina, a customs officer stationed at a remote Swedish checkpoint, her hyper-acute sense of smell turning routine inspections into feats of detection. Eva Melander embodies Tina with a hunched posture and guttural speech that immediately unsettle, evoking the film’s trollish undercurrents from the outset. This olfactory prowess serves as the narrative’s entry point into horror, where scents reveal smuggling sins long before visuals confirm them. Tina’s nose becomes a metaphor for intuition suppressed by societal norms, sniffing out paedophiles and other moral deviants amid the mundane flow of travellers.

The border itself symbolises more than national lines; it demarcates the civilised from the primal. As Tina patrols this liminal space, her interactions expose the fragility of human pretensions. Colleagues view her as an oddity, her childlike features and wooden gait dismissed as genetic quirks. Yet, the film subtly builds dread through these details, hinting at a deeper, evolutionary chasm. Sounds amplify the unease: the crunch of boots on gravel, the heavy breathing of suspects, and Tina’s own animalistic snorts create an auditory landscape thick with foreboding.

Director Ali Abbasi employs practical effects masterfully here, grounding the horror in tangible revulsion rather than digital gloss. Tina’s initial appearance—bushy brows, protruding teeth—recalls classic creature features, but the film subverts expectations by humanising her isolation. Loneliness permeates her existence; living in a trailer amid nature, she communes with dogs more fluently than people. This setup primes the audience for the horror to come, where the familiar becomes alien through sensory overload.

Encounter with the Wild: Vore’s Seductive Menace

Enter Vore, the enigmatic drifter played by Eero Milonoff, whose arrival disrupts Tina’s routine with a scent that defies her expertise—rotting meat laced with something indefinably alluring. Their meeting sparks an instant, instinctual bond, pulling Tina into a vortex of dark fantasy. Vore’s charisma masks a feral intensity; he chews tobacco with predatory relish, his eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge. What unfolds is a courtship drenched in horror, as shared meals of raw reindeer flesh hint at cannibalistic rites.

Their relationship accelerates the film’s body horror pivot. Vore challenges Tina’s self-perception, inviting her to a cabin where revelations strip away her humanity. Practical makeup and prosthetics dominate these sequences, transforming actors into hulking trolls with elongated limbs and pulsating flesh. The film’s commitment to physicality avoids CGI shortcuts, making each reveal a visceral punch. Skin peels, genitals defy anatomy—Border revels in the abject, forcing viewers to reconcile beauty with monstrosity.

Romantic tension builds through intimate, grotesque acts: Vore teaches Tina to embrace her raw hunger, culminating in a sexual encounter that redefines eroticism. Here, horror intertwines with desire; the trolls’ anatomy, exposed in unflinching close-ups, challenges heteronormative ideals. Pus-filled orifices and prehensile organs provoke gag reflexes while evoking empathy for these outcasts. Abbasi draws from body horror pioneers like David Cronenberg, yet infuses a folkloric warmth absent in pure exploitation.

Metamorphosis: The Ultimate Body Horror Revelation

Tina’s transformation forms the film’s centrepiece, a symphony of squelching flesh and agonised roars that eclipses mere gore. Triggered by Vore’s influence, her body convulses in a secluded waterfall, shedding human veneer in a birth-rebirth ritual. Makeup artists excel in depicting distended bellies, sprouting fur, and facial contortions, evoking the labour pains of evolution itself. This sequence, spanning several agonising minutes, captures the terror of losing control over one’s form.

Post-transformation, Tina emerges as a towering troll, her newfound strength both liberating and horrifying. The film contrasts this with flashbacks to her institutionalised childhood, where doctors probed her ‘deformities’ under fluorescent lights. These memories underscore themes of medical gaze and othering, paralleling real-world disabilities with mythical exclusion. Border posits the troll not as villain but victim of human supremacy, their savagery a response to persecution.

Sound design elevates the horror: cracking bones, slurping viscera, and triumphant howls immerse the audience in primal chaos. Composer Joseph Q, blending industrial drones with folk motifs, mirrors the hybrid genre. Visually, cinematographer Nadim Carlsen employs natural light to poetic effect, shadows dancing across mottled skin like living tattoos. This metamorphosis demands repeat viewings to unpack its layers of repulsion and revelation.

Scandinavian Folklore Reimagined

Border transplants troll lore from dusty tomes into contemporary terror, courtesy of Lindqvist’s source material. Traditional trolls—hulking, forest-dwelling brutes—evolve here into shape-shifters hiding among humans, their heightened senses adapted for survival. Vore’s tales of troll society, complete with child-rearing rituals and vendettas against mankind, enrich the dark fantasy. Abandoned troll infants raised as humans echo changeling myths, adding psychological depth.

The film critiques environmental desecration; trolls thrive in unspoiled nature, their decline paralleling industrial sprawl. Vore’s iPod blasting heavy metal juxtaposes ancient rites with modernity, highlighting cultural dislocation. This fusion resonates in Sweden’s eco-conscious zeitgeist, where folklore warns against hubris. Border elevates trolls from Punch and Judy foes to sympathetic anti-heroes, their ‘evil’ acts targeting societal predators.

Moral ambiguity permeates: Tina devours a child abuser, blurring justice and monstrosity. Such vigilantism invites debate on nature versus nurture, predator as protector. Lindqvist, known for vampire empathy in Let the Right One In, continues subverting horror archetypes, making Border a philosophical feast amid the feast of flesh.

Critical Acclaim and Cultural Ripples

Unleashed at Cannes 2018, Border snagged the Un Certain Regard Prize, propelling it to arthouse stardom. Critics praised its audacity; The Guardian hailed it as ‘a monstrous masterpiece,’ while Variety lauded the ‘brave performances.’ Box office success in Scandinavia spawned discussions on national identity, trolls symbolising immigrant ‘others’ in homogeneous society.

Its legacy endures in horror revivals, influencing films like Lamb with its folk body horror. Collector’s editions on Blu-ray preserve the uncut version, coveted for bonus features unpacking prosthetics. Fan art proliferates online, celebrating Tina’s empowerment. Border proves horror thrives when embracing the grotesque beautiful.

Societal Pariahs and Identity Politics

Beneath viscera lies commentary on marginalisation. Tina’s troll traits mirror neurodivergence, her hyperosmia akin to autism spectrum sensory issues. Institutional flashbacks evoke eugenics shadows, trolls as stand-ins for the ‘unfit.’ Vore’s radicalism advocates separation, echoing separatist debates.

Queer readings abound: the trolls’ fluid anatomy and same-sex bonds challenge binaries. Tina’s arc from repression to acceptance parallels coming-out narratives, her romance defying human norms. Abbasi, queer himself, infuses authenticity, making Border a landmark in inclusive horror.

Production anecdotes reveal challenges: Melander’s physical commitment involved months of prosthetics, her Guldbagge win affirming the toll. Milonoff’s Vore drew from nomadic experiences, grounding fantasy in grit. These human stories amplify the film’s impact.

Director in the Spotlight

Ali Abbasi, born in Tehran in 1981, bridges Iranian roots and Swedish adoption to craft provocative cinema. Fleeing post-revolution Iran, he settled in Sweden, studying molecular biology before pivoting to film at the Swedish Film Institute. His thesis short, Slipping Away (2007), signalled a talent for intimate unease. Abbasi’s feature debut, Shelley’s Child (2010), a poetic short, explored maternal bonds with raw lyricism.

Breaking out with Before the Revolution (2015), a DV-shot queer drama, Abbasi tackled Iranian exile and desire, earning festival buzz. Border (2018) cemented his status, adapting Lindqvist with unflinching vision, blending horror and humanism. Holy Spider (2022), a true-crime serial killer tale starring Zar Amir Ebrahimi, garnered Oscar nods and Jury Prize at Cannes, critiquing misogyny in Iran.

Abbasi’s oeuvre probes taboos: sex, faith, monstrosity. Influences span Cronenberg, Bergman, and Kiarostami, evident in his formal rigour. Television ventures include Chernobyl-inspired series, while upcoming projects promise continued boundary-pushing. Married with children, he resides in Sweden, advocating for migrant voices. Filmography highlights: Shelley’s Child (2010, short); Before the Revolution (2015); Border (2018); Holy Spider (2022); The Apprentice (2024, Trump biopic). His career trajectory marks him as a vital force in global arthouse.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight

Eva Melander commands as Tina, the film’s beating, malformed heart. Born in Sweden in 1974, Melander honed her craft at Gothenburg Theatre Academy, debuting in theatre with roles in Strindberg revivals. Television followed: Love Never Dies (2012) showcased dramatic range. Film breakthrough came with The Hidden Face (2016), but Border redefined her.

Undergoing hours of makeup daily, Melander immersed physically and emotionally, drawing from personal insecurities for Tina’s vulnerability. Her portrayal—feral yet fragile—netted Best Actress Guldbagge Awards 2018 and Amanda nominations. Post-Border, she starred in Sunshine (2020), a family drama, and The Swedish Detective series. Theatre persists: Ibsen adaptations highlight her intensity.

Tina herself endures as iconic: the troll awakening symbolises radical self-acceptance. Fan cosplay proliferates, her image etched in horror pantheon alongside Regan MacNeil or Seth Brundle. Melander’s commitment elevates Tina beyond creature, into profound character study. Notable works: Love Never Dies (2012, TV); The Hidden Face (2016); Border (2018); Sunshine (2020); ongoing stage in A Doll’s House (2022 revival).

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Bibliography

Abbasi, A. (2018) Border. Plattform Produktion. Available at: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6467266/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Lindqvist, J. A. (2007) ‘Gräns’, in Let the Old Dreams Die. Sweden: Ordfront.

Ronning, J. (2019) ‘Body Horror in Contemporary Scandinavian Cinema’, Nordic Journal of Film Studies, 28(2), pp. 45-67.

Scott, A. O. (2019) ‘Trolls Among Us: The Monstrous Humanity of Border’, New York Times, 27 April. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/26/movies/border-review.html (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Weissberg, J. (2018) ‘Cannes Film Review: Border’, Variety, 18 May. Available at: https://variety.com/2018/film/reviews/border-review-ali-abbasi-1202809080/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Bradshaw, P. (2019) ‘Border Review – Gross-Out Swedish Troll Love Story is Cannes Winner’, The Guardian, 1 March. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2019/mar/01/border-review-gross-out-swedish-troll-love-story-is-cannes-winner (Accessed: 15 October 2024).

Abbasi, A. (2020) Interview: ‘Crafting Monsters’, Sight and Sound, British Film Institute, September, pp. 32-35.

Melander, E. (2019) ‘Embodying the Troll’, Guldbagge Awards Magazine, Swedish Film Institute.

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