Tribeca 2026: Árru (dir. Elle Sofe Sara) | Review

Árru, which had its North American premiere at the 2026 Tribeca Film Festival, follows an indigenous community at the verge of change. Maia (Sara Marielle Gaup), a single mother in a Sámi community, herds reindeer with her brother Dánel (Simon Issát Marainen) and takes care of her teenage daughter Áilin (Ayla Gáren Audhild P. Nutti), who is expected to lead the community as the new generation. Maia is in the middle of a legal battle to prevent a mining company from building a copper mine on their land, which if approved, would force the herders to slaughter half of their reindeer, among other disastrous consequences.

But the community has kept a dark secret: One night, Dánel drunkenly reveals that Lemme, a charismatic community leader who has been leading the fight against the mining company, sexually assaulted Dánel as a child, and possibly other children in the community. However, if Lemme’s reputation is damaged, they lose the support of charities and non-governmental organizations backing them, effectively killing their case against the mining company.

Áilin, who previously saw Lemme as a mentor figure, learns of this and begins to resent the community, as well as her long-understood role as the leader for the new generation. The community elders advise Maia to stay quiet for the greater good of the group, and she finds herself caught between loyalties to her community and her family.

Sara refreshingly avoids portraying the community as a monolith, or playing into indigenous stereotypes about living in harmony with nature. The community lives in the middle of the isolated Sápmi tundra, and the reindeer play a big role in their society, but part of the conflict revolves around who should have say over the herd — Maia and Dánel believe they own the reindeer, since their family have been herders for generations, while Lemme claims that since he has paid for food and other herding necessities, he should be considered the owner. Additionally, Sara shows how technology affects the agrarian community: In one scene, Dánel jokes that Áilin should go viral to be their Greta Thunberg, to bring attention to their cause.

Árru presents an interesting counter-narrative on the realities of Indigenous governance. Because the community’s politics are structured like a family, it becomes difficult to hold leadership to account. However — without spoiling the film’s conclusion — the film doesn’t satisfactorily address the weight of the choices she is forced to make.

Furthermore, the choice to include musical numbers in the traditional yoik singing style is thematically powerful, but these moments more often fall flat in the execution. Sara’s choreography is betrayed by the static camerawork and slow editing, which lack the dynamism necessary for visually stimulating musical numbers. One such sequence is a dreamlike musical number where Maia releases her frustration while running in the mountains, as naked townspeople swerve around her. However, the scene is only captured from one angle, giving an awkwardly stilted feel to the whole number, and the moment feels as if it’s taking away from the pressing conflicts instead of supplementing them.

So despite strong efforts from its all-Sámi cast (especially Gaup as Maia), and an admirable dedication to representing its characters as grounded, flawed individuals, Árru’s shortcomings are in its execution. Nonetheless, the film is a watershed for Sámi representation in cinema, and will hopefully inspire more films by Indigenous filmmakers about their own communities.

Árru is produced by Stær Films, with co-producers Garage Films (Sweden), It’s Alive Films (Finland) and Elle Sofe Company (Sápmi) , and world sales handled by The Yellow Affair. The film is supported by the International Sámi Film Institute, national film institutes across Norway, Sweden, and Finland, Eurimages, Nordisk Film and TV Fond, NRK, YLE, SVT.

Our team is on site for the 25th Tribeca Film Festival, from June 3 to 14, 2026.