Big monsters are usually a Hollywood thing. We've seen Godzilla stomp Tokyo and King Kong scale the Empire State Building more times than anyone can count. But in 2022, Roar Uthaug—the guy who directed the Tomb Raider reboot—decided to bring that massive scale to the Norwegian mountains. He gave us Troll, a movie that basically asks: What if the folklore our grandparents told us was actually a warning about a sleeping biological catastrophe?
It hit Netflix and exploded.
Honestly, it’s not hard to see why. Most creature features feel like they're trying too hard to be "gritty" or "dark," but Troll leans into the weirdness of its own mythology. It doesn't pretend to be a documentary. It's a popcorn flick with a surprisingly heavy heart. You’ve got Nora Tidemann, a paleontologist who’s spent her life trying to outrun her father’s "crazy" theories about mountain-dwelling giants, only to find out the old man was 100% right.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Troll Movie
People keep comparing this to Trollhunter (2010). That’s a mistake. While both movies deal with the same folklore, Trollhunter was a found-footage mockumentary that focused on the bureaucratic secret-keeping of the Norwegian government. Troll is different. It’s a sweeping, cinematic disaster movie.
The monster isn't just a beast. It’s a piece of the earth. When the Dovre mountains literally start moving, it’s not because of a biological mutation or an alien virus. It’s because the Christianization of Norway centuries ago supposedly wiped out these creatures, and this one—the last of its kind—just woke up very, very angry.
The creature design is incredible, honestly. You can see the layers of shale and moss on its skin. It looks like it belongs in the landscape. That's the point. The Troll movie isn't just about a monster; it's about the landscape reclaiming its territory from the humans who have tunneled through it and paved it over.
The Father-Daughter Dynamic is the Secret Sauce
Without Tobias Tidemann, the movie is just a series of CGI explosions. Tobias, played by Gard B. Eidsvold, represents the "believer." He’s the one who lost his job and his reputation because he insisted that the rock formations weren't just rocks.
Nora (Ine Marie Wilmann) is the skeptic. It’s a classic trope, sure. But the way they play it feels authentic. There’s a specific scene where they’re in the helicopter, and Tobias is looking at the ground with this mix of terror and "I told you so" satisfaction. It’s human. We've all had that parent who believes in something we find embarrassing, only to realize later that they saw something we were too "educated" to notice.
Why the Dovre Mountains Matter
You can't talk about the Troll movie without talking about the location. The Dovre mountains are real. They aren't some soundstage in Atlanta. This area in Norway is steeped in actual history and mythology.
In Norwegian culture, "Enige og tro inntil Dovre faller" (United and loyal until Dovre falls) is a famous oath. By picking this location, the filmmakers were signaling that if a troll wakes up here, it’s not just a local problem. It’s a national identity crisis. The movie uses this to great effect. When the troll heads toward Oslo, it’s not just looking for food. It’s heading toward the Royal Palace.
Why? Because the palace was built on the site of the troll king’s old home.
That’s a level of narrative depth you don't usually get in a movie about a 150-foot rock monster. It’s about displacement. It’s about the fact that the "civilized" world is often built right on top of the "primal" world, and eventually, the foundation is going to shift.
The Problem With the Ending (And Why It’s Actually Good)
Okay, let's talk about the ending. A lot of viewers felt it was too abrupt. They use UV lights to weaken the troll because, according to legend, trolls turn to stone in the sun. It feels a bit like a "deus ex machina" moment.
But look closer.
Nora realizes at the last second that she doesn't want to kill it. She sees the sadness in the creature. It’s lonely. It’s the last one. But the sun comes up anyway. The troll doesn't die because of a missile or a bomb; it dies because the world it belonged to doesn't exist anymore. The modern world is too bright, too loud, and too small for it.
The very final shot—the camera panning over the mountains to show another mound that looks suspiciously like a face—is the classic sequel hook. But it also serves a thematic purpose. It suggests that nature is just waiting. We think we’ve conquered the wild, but we’ve really just put a thin layer of asphalt over a sleeping giant.
How the Troll Movie Changed the Game for International Cinema
For a long time, if you wanted a "blockbuster," you had to look toward Hollywood. Troll proved that Netflix’s global reach allows local stories to use big-budget VFX to tell specific, culturally-rooted stories that still appeal to a guy in Ohio or a girl in Tokyo.
It became Netflix’s most popular non-English film at the time of its release.
That’s huge. It means audiences are hungry for more than just the same three superheroes. They want to see how other cultures imagine the "end of the world."
- Director: Roar Uthaug
- VFX House: Ghost VFX (who worked on Star Wars)
- Budget: Estimated around 15-20 million USD (High for Norway, tiny for Marvel)
- Runtime: 101 minutes (Blessedly short)
The fact that they pulled off those visuals on that budget is insane. The troll looks better than some of the creatures in movies that cost five times as much. It’s about focused art direction. They didn't try to show the troll every five seconds. They built the tension. They showed the footprints first. Then the trees moving. Then, finally, the mountain stands up.
Actionable Insights for Your Next Rewatch
If you’re going back to watch the Troll movie again, or if you’re seeing it for the first time, keep an eye out for the subtle nods to the Peer Gynt suite by Edvard Grieg. The music isn't just background noise; it's a direct link to Henrik Ibsen’s play, which also features the Hall of the Mountain King.
Also, pay attention to the bones. When Nora and Tobias find the "cemetery" under the city, the movie stops being a fun adventure and briefly becomes a horror film. Those are the bones of the troll's family. It changes the troll from a villain into a victim of a very old, very forgotten genocide.
What to do if you liked Troll:
- Watch Trollhunter (2010): It's the grittier, found-footage cousin. It explains the "science" of trolls (like why they can smell the blood of a Christian man) in way more detail.
- Look up the Dovre-Sunndalsfjella National Park: It’s a real place. You can hike there. Just... maybe don't go off the trail if you hear a deep rumbling.
- Check out the sequel news: Netflix has officially greenlit Troll 2. Roar Uthaug is returning. The legend isn't over.
- Explore Scandinavian Folklore: Read about the Huldra or the Nøkken. Norwegian mythology is way darker than Disney would have you believe.
The Troll movie works because it treats its monster with respect. It doesn't make the creature a mindless killing machine. It makes it a relic. In a world where we’re constantly paved over by technology and noise, there’s something deeply satisfying—and terrifying—about the idea that the earth might just stand up and say "enough."
Watch it for the spectacle, but stay for the weird, melancholy realization that we are the intruders on this planet, not the monsters.