The Invaders: Martian politics over köttbullar

You know, I sat in the worn armchair at mamma’s place in Huddinge (highly uncomfortable, don’t get me started), when I pressed play on “The Invaders.” Directing credits go to Lena Hedenström – the same Hedenström who gave us that bonkers “Winter Lies” in 2019. Here she’s got a sci-fi hat on, and you can tell she’s watched her fair share of Tarkovsky but probably snuck in a Michael Bay film or two by mistake. Just saying.

Big names? Absolutely – you got Stellan Skarsgård stomping around as some paranoid professor, all wild hair and “aliens don’t exist but maybe they do” monologues. And Alicia Vikander, who could probably recite IKEA assembly instructions and still make it Oscar-worthy – but here she fights Martians. Aggressively. Did I believe her as Sweden’s last hope? I mean, sort of. She’s got moves, but you could tell she missed the mark in a couple of those “I miss my family” scenes. Or maybe I just missed my own. (Last summer at the country house, my nephew ran around with a spaghetti strainer on his head playing alien invader, and let me tell you: his accent was… more believable.)

Visually, it’s a smorgasbord – neon lights, rain on windshields, that eerie synth track that honestly made my old Grundig radio vibrate like crazy around 23:00. Hedenström’s nods to both Ridley Scott and a bit of Bergman (all that existential silence, phew) make it moody and unpredictable.

I’ll be honest, I snorted when the Martian ambassador ordered “en stor stark” at the bar. Comedy gold, or maybe just so surreal it worked? Not sure.

It’s a weird, wild mix, a bit like putting lingonberry jam on pizza. Do I recommend? If you ever felt like an outsider at your own Christmas smörgåsbord, this one hits home (and maybe from Mars).

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