TikTok is dead. Long live huskies, hypothermia, and finding your soul somewhere north of the Arctic Circle. The Folktales documentary is where Gen Z ditches the algorithm for actual wolves (well, close enough) and gets emotionally frostbitten in the best way.
Folktales, directed by Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, follows a group of teens who voluntarily spend their gap year at Pasvik Folk High School—aka Hogwarts for Arctic survival—with only sled dogs, icy wilderness, and ancient Norse fate-weavers to guide them. This Folktales documentary is part therapy, part myth, and 100% freeze-dried soul-searching.
Why This Doc Bites Harder Than Any Teen Reality Show
Arctic therapy for burnt-out brains
Pasvik sits just miles from Russia’s border, buried in taiga and actual silence. No Instagram. No WiFi. Just 30 sled dogs and the constant threat of frostbite. Teens learn to build fires, knit sweaters, and rediscover the radical idea of listening to themselves.
These kids are not influencers—and that’s the point
The film zooms in on three standout weirdos: Hege (grieving her dad), Bjørn Tore (introverted icon), and Romain (quiet boy turned sled king). Instead of filtered selfies, we get raw, awkward growth and some truly touching human moments. It’s like Gen Z meets Into the Wild, minus the dying part.
Norse myth, but make it Gen Z
This isn’t just about gap years—it’s about fate, literally. The Norns—those badass Norse fates—are the spiritual backbone here. The filmmakers lean hard into the mythology, with a tree named Yggdrasil wrapped in yarn like a Pinterest fever dream. It’s weird, it’s wonderful, and it works.
Verité with a side of Arctic espionage
Shot with zoom lenses so intense the subjects forgot the camera existed, this is verité taken to the level of wildlife documentary. We’re talking full Planet Earth: Gen Z Edition.
Final Byte
This film is less “teens with dogs” and more “what happens when you unplug a generation and force them to be cold and present.” The Folktales documentary argues that maybe the answer to our overstimulated, under connected lives is less dopamine and more dog poop scooping.
I write like I think—fast, curious, and a little feral. I chase the weird, the witty, and the why-is-this-happening-now. From AI meltdowns to fashion glow-ups, if it makes you raise an eyebrow or rethink your algorithm, I’m probably writing about it. Expect sharp takes, occasional sarcasm, and zero tolerance for boring content.
