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Godland poster

Godland · reception & legacy

2022 · Hlynur Pálmason

How Godland has been received, argued over, and remembered.

The arc

No flop-to-classic drama here — it premiered in Un Certain Regard at Cannes 2022 to strong reviews and just kept climbing: Iceland's Oscar submission, an Academy shortlist spot, then a Criterion release, all within about a year. It's gone from festival darling to presumptive 2020s-canon entry unusually fast.

What's debated

The perennial fight is whether it's a transcendent slow-cinema masterpiece or a punishingly long, gorgeous-but-gruelling endurance test — 143 minutes of mud and volcanic rock that half of Letterboxd calls hypnotic and the other half calls homework.

Its footprint

Its boxy 1.33:1 frame with softly rounded corners — made to look like a 19th-century wet-plate photograph — became one of the most instantly recognisable images in recent arthouse cinema, endlessly screenshotted and imitated. The Danish-vs-Icelandic language friction at its core also turned it into cinephile shorthand for colonial awkwardness between two countries most viewers hadn't thought to see as coloniser and colonised.

Where it stands

A fast-tracked canon climber: Criterion-anointed, a fixture on best-of-the-2020s lists, and a Letterboxd arthouse favourite that's become a 'have you seen it yet' title for the slow-cinema crowd.

★ Did you know? The opening text claims the film was inspired by seven wet-plate photographs taken by a Danish priest in Iceland — but Pálmason has admitted the photographs never existed; the 'true story' framing is entirely invented. Bonus: the volcanic eruption in the film is real footage of Fagradalsfjall erupting in 2021, and the decomposing horse was genuinely filmed over many months near the director's home.