Vikings: Valhalla: A Brutal Departure from Mythic Grandeur

The rain-soaked battle that opens Vikings: Valhalla is a brutal, unrelenting affair—swords slicing through the downpour, bodies collapsing into the mud with grim finality. This isn’t the mythic grandeur of its predecessor; it’s something grittier, closer to the bone. Netflix’s sequel series, created by Jeb Stuart, doesn’t just follow in the footsteps of Michael Hirst’s Vikings—it carves its own path through history, and that distinction defines both its strengths and its shortcomings.

Premiering in February 2022, Valhalla is set more than a century after the events of Vikings, plunging viewers into the early 11th-century conflicts between Viking descendants (the Norse or “Danes”) and native English forces. The series follows Leif Eriksson (Sam Corlett), Freydís Eiríksdóttir (Frida Gustavsson), and Harald Sigurdsson (Leo Suter) as they navigate political intrigue, religious strife, and the brutal realities of war. With a 24-episode order announced before its debut, Valhalla spans three seasons, concluding in July 2024.

What sets Valhalla apart from its predecessor is its commitment to visceral realism. The battles are chaotic, bloody, and often devastatingly effective—far removed from the polished choreography of many historical epics. The series’ first season opens with the St. Brice’s Day massacre, a moment of shocking violence that immediately establishes the tone: this is a world where survival is hard-won, and morality is often a luxury. The muddy fields of Ireland, standing in for medieval England and Scandinavia, become a character unto themselves—beautiful yet unforgiving.

At the heart of Valhalla is Sam Corlett’s Leif Eriksson, a reluctant hero whose journey from explorer to leader is one of the series’ most compelling arcs. Corlett brings a quiet intensity to the role, grounding the mythic elements of Leif’s story in genuine emotional weight. His performances are particularly striking in moments of vulnerability, such as when he grapples with the consequences of his actions or the weight of leadership. Freydís Eiríksdóttir, played by Frida Gustavsson, is equally compelling—a fierce warrior whose moral ambiguity makes her one of the show’s most dynamic characters. Gustavsson’s portrayal balances strength and vulnerability, making Freydís a standout in an ensemble cast.

The supporting performances are hit-or-miss. Leo Suter’s Harald Sigurdsson, for instance, struggles to make an impact in the earlier seasons, his character often feeling more like a plot device than a fully realized figure. However, Jóhannes Haukur Jóhannesson’s Olaf Haraldsson brings gravitas and depth to his portrayal of the conflicted leader. Bradley Freegard’s King Canute is another standout, embodying the political cunning and ruthlessness required of a monarch navigating treacherous waters.

Where Valhalla excels is in its production values. The series was filmed primarily in Ireland, working from the same Ashford Studios in County Wicklow that housed Vikings. The costumes and set designs are meticulously crafted, immersing viewers in the era’s gritty realism. The cinematography is particularly noteworthy, with sweeping shots of dramatic landscapes serving as a fitting backdrop to the series’ epic conflicts.

Yet Valhalla stumbles when it strays from its strengths. The religious conflict between pagan Vikings and Christian English is an interesting backdrop, but it often feels underdeveloped, reduced to simplistic moral binaries. Some of the supporting characters, particularly in the second season, lack depth, their arcs feeling more like plot devices than fully realized journeys. The series also struggles with pacing at times, particularly in its second season, where multiple subplots threaten to overwhelm the central narrative.

Thematically, Valhalla grapples with the clash of cultures and the cost of ambition. Leif’s journey, in particular, explores the tension between exploration and conquest, between curiosity and greed. Freydís’ arc delves into the complexities of leadership and the price of power. These themes are explored with nuance and depth, even if the series occasionally stumbles in its execution.

Comparing Valhalla to Vikings is inevitable, but it’s a comparison that highlights both the sequel’s strengths and its weaknesses. Where Vikings often leaned into mythic grandeur, Valhalla embraces a grittier, more grounded realism. This shift in tone is refreshing, but it also means that the series lacks some of the epic sweep and larger-than-life characters that made Vikings so compelling.

Ultimately, Vikings: Valhalla is a solid, if uneven, follow-up to one of Netflix’s most popular historical dramas. It’s a series for viewers who enjoy grounded, brutal storytelling—those who appreciate the messy realities of history over polished mythmaking.