How Greenland became visible on screen – and why who films it matters

Greenlandic settlements like Aasiaat have long attracted outside filmmakers and photographers. Unsplash In recent years, Kalaallit Nunaat, as Greenland is known in Kalaallisut (Greenlandic), has come under ever intensifying scrutiny — featuring in debates about geopolitics, climate change and natural resources. As US interest in the island continues, the EU is now stepping into the fray, with Ursula von der Leyen, the president of the European Commission, poised to visit Greenland and the wider Arctic region in March. News reports are bolstered by images of Greenland’s colourful settlements, its icebergs and fjords. This attention builds on a long history. For over a century, Greenland and Greenlandic culture have attracted international filmmakers, particularly from Denmark, which began colonising the island in 1721. The country has functioned as a powerful visual and narrative resource in global screen culture. And yet, for international audiences, knowledge of Greenlandic society itself often stops at ice and strategy; Greenlandic culture itself remains unfamiliar. My recent book chapter, in The Politics of Place: Space and Locality in the European Screen Industries, shows that attitudes are changing. Focusing on a Danish-led co-production shot in Greenland, I have found that when Greenlandic filmmakers and stakeholders are genuinely involved and films are shot on location in Greenland, Danish directors tend to work more reflexively and with greater accountability to local perspectives. By centring Danish characters in Greenlandic settings, these films also shift the focus of critique. Rather than reproducing colonial tropes, they turn attention towards Danish histories and responsibilities, resulting in a more self-critical portrayal of contemporary relations between the two cultures.

Expedition and ethnography Greenlandic culture first appeared on screen in 1897, in the one-minute silent film, Driving with Greenland Dogs by Danish photographer Peter Elfelt. Filmmakers have been drawn ever since, with, my research shows, two recurring motives: expedition and ethnography. The first relates to landscape, the second to culture. Both have been shaped by outsiders. Greenland was a Danish colony from 1721 to 1953, after which it was incorporated into Denmark as an “amt” (county). Home Rule was introduced in 1979, and since 2009 Greenland has exercised self-government within the Kingdom of Denmark. Yet the legacies of colonial rule continue to shape cultural and political relations, and questions of representation remain closely entangled with this history. In the expedition strand, Greenland appears as both spectacle and territory: directors focus on distances, harsh weather, endless ice. If people are depicted at all, it is usually as a measure of scale or as proof of endurance. During the Cold War, this spectacular, colonial gaze intertwined with geopolitical strategy. Greenland was often framed as a disputed territory or frontier. That visual habit persists. The 2022 film, Against the Ice, directed by Peter Flinth, extrapolates on the template of hardship and endurance; the TV series Thin Ice (2020) and Borgen: Power & Glory (2022) update that template through oil-discovery plots, with Greenland the stage for diplomacy, climate anxiety and international rivalry. The ethnographic strand, meanwhile, promised access to Greenlanders rather than territory. It has been especially prevalent in documentary film, but also with a strong presence in especially Danish and French fiction, often focusing on daily life, language (barriers), cultural encounters and tradition. Over time, this cultural gaze has often narrowed into two stereotypes: the precolonial idyll (the “happy Inuit”) and the postcolonial decline (addiction, abuse, suicide). Repeated often enough, these images shape both outsider expectations and Greenlandic self-understanding.

Cultural specificity These filmic strands are now being contested. Productions increasingly combine spectacular landscapes with culturally specific storytelling. Greenlanders are more visible on screen. They’re also more present behind the camera. Borgen: Power & Glory places Greenlandic politics at the centre of a Danish political drama. As noted above, the series uses Greenlandic landscapes and Arctic noir mood, and frames the island through global political stakes. But it also foregrounds tensions rooted in colonial history. It digs into who controls resources and makes decisions. Greenlandic characters are central to the storyline. Their language and agency matter, which is also the case behind camera. In her 2023 feature film, Kalak, Isabella Eklöf takes things even further. She engages with themes that have historically been used to pathologise Greenland, including substance abuse, incest and social decay. However, by centering the narrative on a Danish protagonist and his self-destructive behaviour, the film shifts attention away from the idea that Greenlandic society itself is the problem. Greenland is framed instead as a contemporary place shaped by colonial entanglements and personal trauma. And Eklöf’s production choices reinforce this storytelling. It was filmed entirely in Greenland and relied on substantial Greenlandic participation. Production on Kalak nonetheless met with scepticism on the ground. The team had to address it through dialogue and local mediation. Attitudes within local communities have long been shaped by misrepresentation and by fatigue, with outsiders arriving, filming and leaving without considering the social consequences.

Local industry Grassroots Greenlandic filmmaking has developed in parallel to these shifts in outsider production approaches. Directed by Otto Rosing and Torben Bech, and produced by Mikisoq H. Lynge, Nuummioq, released in 2009, is widely hailed as the first international Greenlandic feature film. A wider body of documentaries and shorts have expanded what Greenland can look and sound like on screen. The 2014 music documentary, Sumé: The Sound of a Revolution, tells the story of how the influential Greenlandic rock band Sumé triggered a cultural and political awakening in the 1970s. The multi-award winning 2024 documentary, Entropy, meanwhile, relays the history of the vast Greenlandic ice sheet from an Indigenous perspective. And the 2025 documentary film, Walls: Akinni Inuk, explores memory, colonial legacy and environmental change through personal, grounded storytelling. In 2024, the Greenlandic parliament passed a law establishing the country’s first film institute set to operate from 2026. Alongside support for Greenlandic production, it is implementing a rebate scheme and an obligatory application process for foreign shoots. Greenland’s landscapes are being treated as assets that can be marketed internationally. However, this creates a tension. Incoming productions can bring much needed investment, employment and skills to an ultra-small sector. The danger is that they might also reproduce old patterns. The difference now is that Greenland has agency and it is making itself heard, via clearer standards for consultation, more local hiring and more collaboration over stories and images. Commercial success should not revive the old silences. Greenland must be both seen and listened to. This matters because images linger. Their cultural and social effects shape what becomes possible both on screen and in real life.

Anders Grønlund does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.