Wrong Husband

Bluesky

In the hard lands of the far north, there are only two ways to survive: to be strong, skilled and lucky (if not directly aided by spirits), or to stay close to others. Vulnerable people cannot travel alone. Mothers keep their children from straying by warning them that the troll will get them if they do. She lives in the water, distinguishable by her big nose and her cruelty. Her body is draped in something dark, clinging, layered like seaweed; the way that Zacharias Kunuk shoots her makes her more than just a costumed monster, gives her something of the uncanny. In a black and white prologue we see her stalking a young brother and sister. What happens next will set the sister’s course in life and after death, though she is not at the centre of the story that follows.

That dubious privilege belongs to Kaujak (Theresia Kappianaq), whom we first meet many years later when she is a child and is betrothed to young Sapa (played as an adult by Haiden Angutimarik), uniting two families who share a camp on a rocky shoreline. It’s a good arrangement: the two young people grow up absorbed in one another, and by the time they’re building the foundations for their own home, they’re clearly very much in love. There is trouble in paradise, however, as Kaujak’s father dies mysteriously following a vividly realised dream battle with a malicious shaman. Shortly afterwards – when Sapa is away – a stranger arrives at the camp and arranges to marry her widowed mother Nujatut (Leah Panimera), which means that both women are obliged to relocate to his own camp, far away. There, three young men compete to become Kaujak’s husband – the wrong husband – with the cruel Angusiaq (Devon Dion Amarualik) determined to wed her at any cost.

Constructed from various elements of folk tale, the film, which screened as part of the 2025 Berlin International Film Festival, serves up a detailed picture of lives lived in extreme conditions, which is nonetheless culturally complex and absorbing. Kunuk is a stickler for authenticity. Because it’s set in summer, we see people undertaking a range of daily tasks rarely captured onscreen, including some dependent on skills which are now on the verge of extinction. The film thus serves as a reservoir of cultural knowledge. Outsiders are expected to find their own way rather than being provided with explanations for everything, but the gentle pace of the story allows plenty of room for this. It never feels thin or overstretched because the tension remains and there’s plenty going on inside the characters – plus Kunuk finds moments of rare beauty in the bleak landscape.

Despite the small pool of talent on which Kunuk was able to draw, the performances here are all convincing. Kaujak’s plight will be easy for people from many different backgrounds to relate to. It should be noted that because it is considered inappropriate to call people by their give names in Inuktituk, she sometimes refers to her mother as ‘younger sister’, and her mother calls her ‘older sister’, whilst other characters use similar constructions to address one another. This can be confusing at first, but you will soon find yourself looking past such things to focus on the drama, especially during deeply unnerving sequences with the shaman or the stage at which a desperate Kaujak seeks supernatural help. The special effects are very simple but all the more effective because of it.

Wrong Husband is a valuable contribution to Inuit cinema. It’s also an atmospheric, beguiling piece of work which will appeal to those with an interest in folklore, and has some pointed things to say about the treatment of women.