What happens when a conspiracy theorist was right all along? Beneath the surface-level
fun of Netflix's monster movie Troll, there are some big ideas to unpack. Spoilers ahead.
There are scores of films
that introduce a monster or fantastical creature into a world that is otherwise completely grounded
in reality. An inevitable plot point becomes the characters' reaction to this creature existing and
them getting over the hurdle of thinking it's merely fiction. Such is the case with Troll,
which spends a great deal of its runtime convincing its characters of its own mythology.
The Norwegian government enlists professional assistance from Nora
Tidemann in identifying the source of massive footprint-shaped markings. Nora's father,
Tobias, insists they're not just footprint-shaped, but actual footprints,
belonging to a troll. As a little girl, Nora used to love her father's tales of Norway's trolls,
but now she takes a more logical approach to life. In the end, though, Tobias is right.
In a way, this component of Troll almost mirrors a variation of the
archetype seen in many Christmas films in which characters begrudgingly deny Santa's existence,
only to eventually come around in the end and believe in him. The difference in Troll,
though, is that the payoff for its fantasy being real all along isn't some fluffy,
warm holiday moment. For the characters in Troll, accepting the reality that trolls
exist means facing a very real threat to the natural order of their world. It's an eerie
juxtaposition to consider the fulfillment of childhood fantasies leading to imminent doom.
Relationships between kids and their parents can become complicated as kids become adults. Nora
used to hang onto Tobias' every word as they adventured together across the mountains. They
imagined themselves as heroes of a fictional quest called The Adventures of Big and Tiny,
and these moments together were the core of their relationship. Following the death of Nora's mom,
though, Nora and Tobias grew apart. The action of Troll begins years after this incident,
in time to see them somewhat make amends, just before the troll kills Tobias. Nora
spends the remainder of the film grappling with the concept of her father's legacy.
"You do know that there's some truth to every fairy tale."
Within the ebb and flow of Nora's relationship with her father, the audience might consider
their own relationships with their parental figures. What leads to estrangement of family
members who were once so close? How does one approach reconciliation when both parties are
responsible for the falling out? How does one honor the memory of a lost loved one
when they may not fully believe in everything the person stood for? Nora finds closure and
healing in her relationship with Tobias in the wake of Tobias' death. Even if Tobias didn't
live to see Nora come around to his point of view, his preparation while still living made
it possible in the first place, fulfilling his mantra that "the incredible isn't impossible."
Andreas is the prime minister's
assistant. He keeps the prime minister's schedule on track and is involved in
most of her day-to-day activities — but stays noticeably and intentionally on the sidelines.
Despite this, Andreas occasionally speaks his mind, even if the situation doesn't directly call
for his input. As the prime minister reviews footage of the troll's footprints while the
markings' origins are still unknown, Andreas suggests to her that they look foot-shaped.
"They almost look like footprints, right?"
Later, in a room full of government officials, Andreas sits in an outer
circle of chairs against the far edge of the wall, away from the people participating in the
conversation. Despite the fact that he's an obvious outsider, he speaks up again.
"Or supernatural."
Andreas is a consistent reminder that an individual's influence should not be
dictated by the level of status associated with their station of work. Andreas is an assistant,
and yet in the fight to save the country from the troll's destruction, he proves to
be one of the most valuable voices involved. Without him, many more people would have died.
As a mountaineer who mostly keeps to himself and whose knowledge of trolls ends up being correct,
Tobias' arc proves to be an interesting character study in, as his daughter Nora
puts it, the difference between having an imagination and losing touch with reality.
Tobias lives alone in the middle of nowhere. The walls of his house
are plastered with maps and newspaper clippings as if he's tracing a crime,
and he indignantly implores everyone to believe that trolls are real.
"Why were we never taught that trolls actually existed?"
It's conspiracy theorist 101— except that in this case, Tobias' hunches aren't theories
at all. He's correct in his assumptions, lending a nuanced thematic layer to the story.
Despite Tobias' expertise about the lay of the land in which the troll's markings were spotted,
everyone is quick to write off his claim that the markings actually belong to a real troll. Later,
of course, they realize that the seemingly crazy guy had been right all along. Not only that,
but history was much darker than even Tobias thought, with the entire troll
race being eradicated and buried underground, with only one of them remaining alive. What
are the repercussions of labeling someone too quickly? How does a fundamental change
in a philosophical perspective shift one's approach to life going forward?
These questions hit Nora hard, especially in the aftermath of her father's sudden death.
As Tobias attempts to approach the troll calmly, members of the Norwegian military immediately
engage it in combat, prompting retaliation from the troll. This sets into motion the
entire second half of the film, effectively becoming a troll vs. humans war. In retrospect,
one can't help but wonder how the ending would have been different if the military personnel
had resisted the urge to take that first shot. Surely the troll wouldn't have killed
Tobias moments later. How much progress would Tobias have been able to make in his effort
to begin friendly relations with the troll, maybe even leading to a new era of society?
The incident brings to mind the implications of handling conflict
in different ways. Tobias advocates for trying to see the troll as a
living creature and empathizing with it before immediately resorting to combat.
"We can scare it with weapons. We can push it around. But I promise,
Nora, nature will push back."
While admittedly a big leap for others to make when the troll is capable of destroying everything
in its path, their assumptions about the troll's intentions become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Since they believed the troll would harm them, they tried to hurt it before it got the chance,
and in doing so created the monster they feared. It didn't have to be that way.
Nora's dreams were as fantastical as her father's when she was a little girl. As an adult, though,
she pursues the more grounded, scientific version of troll-chasing by being a paleontologist. The
role translates Nora's childhood fantasy into a career, but it's based more on rationale and
logic than what was previously an unbridled love for adventure. Similarly, Andreas has dreams of
being a writer, but life's gotten in the way and his current station is assistant to the prime
minister. It's certainly a dignified job, but it's got nothing to do with his true passion.
Nora's career as a paleontologist and Andreas' career in the Norwegian government are both
different from how they thought their adult lives would end up. Toward the end of the film,
Andreas quits his job to pursue writing, perhaps the ultimate embodiment of the 180 an artist's
journey sometimes takes. There's no concrete indication that Nora will quit paleontology,
but she's definitely been philosophically changed by her experience with the troll,
and even if she stays in the same profession, she will undoubtedly approach it differently.
As both characters step forward into new chapters of their lives, they are examples of contrasting
choices that the audience can perhaps relate to: finding a solution to restlessness by
deciding that a drastic change is in order or deciding to do the same thing in a new way.
In discussing how to eliminate the
threat of the troll in Norway, the Prime Minister meets with military personnel. They inform her
that nuclear missiles are an option, which the Prime Minister is startled to learn are available.
"Why wasn't I informed of this before?"
Untested and not fully ready for use, the missiles would put nearby civilians
in harm's way if deployed. This information, of course, is spared from public disclosure,
painting a picture of a government that isn't completely honest with its citizens,
and at times isn't even completely honest with its own leaders.
During the climax of the film, the missiles are inevitably authorized, but Sigrid,
a low-ranking government employee and a friend of Andreas, sabotages the plan at the last moment,
saving countless lives. Sigrid breaking protocol to stand up for what she believes in follows the
typical movie formula of an underdog giving a corrupt government what-for, a signature move of
disaster films. Elsewhere, the government is able to hack into a random civilian's phone to obtain
a video with evidence of the troll's existence. Sigrid mentions the hack was complicated, but
not impossible. Throughout Troll, the government almost acts as a character unto itself, aligning
with the dark, overreaching personality that many films assign to governments of any country.
Tobias notes that folklorists
made up lies about trolls to always depict them negatively in generations-old stories, which
led to stereotypes against the creatures. In the present, these generalizations undoubtedly lead
to many of the humans' assumptions about the last remaining troll when they discover its existence.
"If you tell a lie enough times, people will take it as the truth."
"Ah, the egghead admits it."
It's an applicable social commentary that's sure to be noticed by the audience, especially in an
age when misinformation spreads like wildfire. Perhaps smartly, the script refrains from having
Andreas interject any specific example into his introspection — he doesn't, for example, insert
a topical reference to COVID-19 or an election — which might've tipped the point toward being
more distracting than effective. Instead, the viewers can simply fill in the blanks themselves.
By the film's climax, all of Tobias' hypotheses about the trolls have turned out to be true. Even
in death, his knowledge guides Nora's mission, and in a crucial moment she remembers one last bit of
info that could help defeat the troll for good. In folklore, trolls are averse to sunlight. Nora
realizes that while she's seen the troll during the daytime, the sky has always been cloudy.
"We've seen him during the day, but have we seen him in direct sunlight?"
The sun has never been out at the same time as the troll,
so there's reason to believe that the old belief might be true. Even though it's nighttime,
if she can lure the troll to an area where artificial sunlight can shine in its face,
she just might save everyone from the troll's destruction. Her plan works,
but she soon puts two and two together to discover the light won't stop the troll
without killing it. Nora pulls the plug on the operation to kill the troll at the last minute,
wanting to follow in her late father's footsteps and try to approach the troll peacefully. The
repercussions of this choice, while noble and the right thing to do, would have no doubt been
a much harder path forward. The community at large would face major societal roadblocks in how to
communicate with and accommodate the coexistence of humans with the troll in a polite symbiosis,
which surely would also have its fair share of naysayers to deal with. It would change
everything. Regardless, Nora's heroism is rendered null when the sun immediately rises
and kills the troll. The story redeems Nora's intentions while still taking the easy way out.
A plot point that's central to the entire
film is that the troll roaming about is the last of its kind in existence. This discovery is what
makes the cover-up of the underground mausoleum of troll skeletons semi-plausible. It also helps
Nora and the audience lend a greater sense of empathy to the troll. If it's the only one left,
of course it's lonely and it makes sense that it would be confused and destructive. It has no one,
and it's this train of thought that leads to Nora wanting to save it in the end.
A mid-credits scene indicates there's at least one more troll alive, with the camera showing a
giant creature violently emerging from seemingly the same cave where the original troll came from.
This twist, while leaving the door wide open for a sequel, paints the narrative of most of
this first film in a different light. If there was more than one troll all along,
then much of the explanation that the movie provides for its narrative needs revising.
This would surely be explained should a follow-up come about, but it would feel
a bit odd considering the lengths to which the first film goes to establish its lore.