The Thief (Anngeerdardardor): Friendship, Culpability, and the Weight of Choices
by Mars Dalys
Who wouldn’t panic upon finding out their dog went missing? The Thief or Anngeerdardardor (2025) takes us to the heart of southeastern Greenland, right into the icy town of Tasiilaq. There, we encounter Kaali, a boy who discovers that his beloved dog Meqqujoor is no longer on her chain. Immediately, he sets off on a quest to find her, anxiously roaming about the fjord’s shore. By his side, his only friend Bartilaa tries his best to help him, despite the teenage bullies they run into and the helplessness that settles slowly on his side. But that hardly stops his anger and determination from growing, especially as he’s worried that Meqqujoor’s disappearance is the deed of a thief. By the end, he is confronted with his own morality and has to make a choice: saving his friend or his dog? When he learns that the actual thief isn’t who he thought, how does he make the right decision?
Director Christoffer Rizvanovic Stenbakken signs the greatest love letter he could have given to his native town by offering it the first and only short film shot there. From his naturalistic style to his choice of collaborating with the youth of Tasiilaq, everything in his work screams authenticity. The intimacy and rawness of the film has already resulted in a selection for the 75th Berlin International Film Festival in the Generation Kplus competition, as well as the Best Danish Fiction Award at Odense International Film Festival 2025.
The director’s capacity to lean on his own experiences of Greenland truly makes the film unique, effusing a genuineness only a native person could have portrayed—and it’s not a surprise to learn that some of the dialogues were improvised. Between the shots filmed by hand and the accuracy of the silences, the viewer is immersed for the full 20 minutes. Music isn’t needed when the environmental sounds create a wonderful, chilling ambiance: the harsh voices, hurling wind, and crunching snow.
In the film, the violence of Kaali’s encounters with his bullies contrasts with the softness he exhibits when he’s with Meqqujoor, choosing his bond with her over a world that doesn’t accept his struggles and means of expression. By the end, we understand that the bullies are the most extreme form of something we see in all of Kaali’s quest: a refusal of his feelings and differences.
In the frozen lands of Greenland, animals like his sled dog serve as a means to survive, not just as companions, which is something that Kaali struggles to accept. In his determination to get his dog back, he almost loses his closest friend in what can only be called a sacrifice. Only when he understands that his actions have moral consequences does he correct his behavior to save the friendship; trying to get back what no longer belongs to him would only result in losing what he still has.
The film guides us through a reflection on thiefhood, portraying it as a social construct shifting and adapting as new elements are brought to light. The Thief is a fascinating watch that pushes us to question the definition of belonging—both in terms of possessions and of communities. What starts as a quest for justice ends up as rewriting the entire definition of the word in Kaali’s mind, and we witness important character growth in the span of a few hours. In the end, could he be the one to blame?