Name: Beautiful Beings
Genre: Drama
Released: 2022-04-22T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Birgir Dagur Bjarkason, Áskell Einar Pálmason, Viktor Benóný Benediktsson, Snorri Rafn Frímannsson, Sunna Líf Arnarsdóttir

The camera lingers on a teenage boy’s bloodied face as he fights back against his attackers, his mask of bravado slipping with every strike. This is the opening shot of Beautiful Beings, Guðmundur Arnar Guðmundsson’s unflinching Icelandic coming-of-age drama, and it sets the tone for a film that refuses to soften the edges of adolescent violence. Set in the suburbs of Reykjavík during the 2000s, the story follows Balli (Áskell Einar Pálmason), a bullied teenager who finds an uneasy refuge with Addi (Birgir Dagur Bjarkason) and his crew of volatile misfits. The film had its world premiere at the Berlinale in 2022 and was later submitted as Iceland’s entry for the Academy Awards, marking it as one of the year’s most ambitious dramas.

Beautiful Beings is a social portrait at its core, and Guðmundsson’s direction excels in capturing the raw, unfiltered reality of teenage masculinity. The film opens with harrowing scenes of bullying, self-harm, and teen violence, plunging the audience into a world where brutality is both an escape and a prison. The boys—Addi, Balli, Siggi (Snorri Rafn Frímannsson), and Konni (Viktor Benóný Benediktsson)—are all products of their environments, shaped by abusive fathers, absent mothers, and a system that fails them at every turn. The film’s strength lies in its commitment to portraying this world without romanticization or sensationalism. There are no easy heroes here, only flawed individuals struggling to find their way in a landscape of violence and betrayal.

The performances are where Beautiful Beings truly shines. Pálmason as Balli delivers a quiet, heartbreaking turn, his character’s vulnerability making him the emotional anchor of the film. The scene where Balli reveals the abuse he suffers at home is devastating, not because of melodramatic acting but because of Pálmason’s understated restraint. Benediktsson as Konni is equally impressive, embodying the destructive charisma of a teenage delinquent with frightening conviction. His performance peaks in the gas station brawl, where his rage feels visceral and uncontrollable.

Bjarkason as Addi carries much of the narrative weight, and while his arc from bystander to reluctant hero feels earned, it occasionally strains credibility. The subplot involving Addi’s psychic mother (Kristín Ísold Jóhannesdóttir) adds an element of mysticism that doesn’t always mesh seamlessly with the film’s grounded realism. However, Bjarkason’s performance is compelling enough to make Addi’s journey feel authentic, even when the story stumbles.

Guðmundsson’s direction is confident, especially in the way he balances the film’s tonal extremes. Moments of dark humor—like the boys tricking Danni into snorting flour—cut sharply against scenes of escalating violence. The cinematography is stark and functional, favoring handheld shots and natural lighting that heightens the sense of chaos and immediacy. One standout sequence is the gas station brawl, where the camera moves with restless energy, mirroring the boys’ adrenaline-fueled fury.

Yet the film’s narrative pacing is uneven. While the social portrait of these troubled teens is compelling, the story takes its time to develop, and some subplots—like Addi’s psychic mother’s visions—feel underdeveloped or awkwardly inserted. The climax, in which the boys confront Balli’s abusive stepfather, is both shocking and emotionally resonant, but it arrives after a series of escalating conflicts that sometimes blur into repetition.

Beautiful Beings is not an easy film to watch, nor is it meant to be. It is a brutal, unflinching examination of teenage violence and the systems that perpetuate it. The film’s originality lies in its commitment to portraying this world without romanticization or sensationalism. However, its pacing issues and tonal inconsistencies prevent it from reaching the heights of similar coming-of-age dramas like Heavenly Creatures (1994), which managed to balance brutality and tenderness with greater narrative cohesion.

The film’s target audience is likely those who appreciate raw, unvarnished storytelling and are willing to engage with its bleak portrayal of adolescence. Fans of Icelandic cinema will find familiar themes and a commitment to social realism that has become a hallmark of the country’s film industry. However, viewers looking for a more polished or uplifting coming-of-age story may find Beautiful Beings too grim and unrelenting.

In the end, Beautiful Beings is a powerful, if flawed, exploration of teenage violence and the struggle to find one’s own path. Its strengths lie in its performances and its unflinching commitment to realism, but its pacing issues and tonal inconsistencies hold it back from greatness.