Review: Norwegian National Ballet in Tungrodd / Rahčamuš / Raataminen – preserving identity

Graham Watts sees Tungrodd, a “softly expressive and powerfully expansive” semi-autobiographical work by Sámi choreographer Simone Grøtte from Northern Norway.
| Title | Tungrodd / Rahčamuš / Raataminen |
| Company | Norwegian National Ballet |
| Venue | Scene 2, National Opera House, Oslo |
| Date | 18 April 2026 |
| Reviewer | Graham Watts |
While an exotic tale of a mythical, ancient kingdom in the foothills of the Himalayas occupied the main stage of Oslo’s beautiful opera house, what greater contrast could there be to the fantasy of La Bayadère than to have a new work on the second stage that dealt with the recent history and culture of the Sámi and Kven people, ethnic groups in Northern Norway and Lapland, which have struggled to maintain their distinct identity and languages against the pressures of the Norwegian majority.
Simone Grøtte is an indigenous Sámi choreographer who lives and works in Finnmark, the Arctic region of Northern Norway, and Tungrodd (I believe that Rahčamuš and Raataminen are translations from the Norwegian into the indigenous languages) is her first work for Norwegian National Ballet.
The performance is, to some extent, autobiographical, reflecting memories of Grøtte’s childhood when she would sit under the kitchen table listening to the stories of adults talking in both Norwegian and a Sámi language (there are nine, although apparently only three are still actively spoken among a population of around 80,000). One of the early voice-overs, that of an elderly man, was a remembrance of many decades past, when whoever talked first in the morning decided which of three languages the family would speak for the rest of the day. The voiceover stories were developed by Grøtte in association with historical consultant, Arvid Petterson.
As a reflection of those memories, Tungrodd features a large kitchen table covered with a cloth, which, when removed, revealed that young girl under the table. The kitchen also featured a vintage transistor radio, a prized possession that was carried by various members of the nine-strong ensemble, lighting up with an orange glow as voices brought forth evocative reminiscences of times before and during the Second World War. Thankfully, I was kindly provided with an English translation of the spoken text and so was able to follow the gist of all these various memories, which began and finished with reflections of a rowing trip.
Much of the hour-long performance expressed how the indigenous Sámi and Kven cultures were suppressed both by a “Norwegianization” – for example, people could only buy land if they had a Norwegian name – and through the serial abuses suffered during the second world war when villages were burned to the ground by the invaders while their inhabitants watched, and whole communities were displaced, representing a further nail in the coffin of Sámi and Kven cultures. However, I believe that Tungrodd means something like “deep roots”, and the work ended with upbeat optimism for a future in which both the traditions and languages of Northern Norway are revived and strengthened.
The ensemble was already in situ as the audience arrived, walking slowly around the stage as if searching for something (a lost culture?), wearing clothing suggestive of a rural, livestock-herding people. The extreme seasons seemed to be referenced by extra layers being donned and relinquished. The voiceovers punctuated some beautiful, recorded music composed by Herman Rundberg.

Grøtte’s contemporary choreography is both softly expressive and powerfully expansive, utilising the space effectively, with the large moveable table as a focal point, and the impactful effectiveness enhanced by Tor Ditlevsen’s lighting designs, with fascinating back projections that seemed reminiscent of lightning strikes or, perhaps, the Northern Lights. The final sequences took place in a “snowstorm” of torn tissue paper that presented a spectacular new dimension with a floor of “snow” to be thrown in the air or swept by the dancers’ feet.
Guest artist, Jakub Mędrzycki was especially busy as the strong man amongst the group, partnering and lifting regularly both to enable transitions and in structured duets. The matriarchal essence of these indigenous, far-flung communities was evident through the close integration of five women: Nora Augustinius, whom I remember from last year’s Pages at the International Draft Works; Henriette Hamli, on loan from Jo Strømgren Kompani; Ida Metzch Juel, from Denmark; Hanne Svenning; and Runa Saetervoll.
The additional menfolk in this arctic idyll were Stian Bergdølmo, Gabriel Gudim, a graduate of the San Francisco Ballet and Norwegian National Ballet’s junior company (NNB2), and Louka Do Vale Tinoco, who trained at both the Paris Opera Ballet School and The Royal Ballet School. Svenning, Juel and Bergdølmo are all members of Nagelhus Schia Productions, an ambitious company based in the Southern Norwegian city of Sandvika and run by Guro Nagelhus Schia and Vebjørn Sundby that has worked with such luminaries of contemporary dance as Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui and Sasha Waltz.
One enlightening by-product of being an itinerant dance critic is not only learning about dance in other countries but also about the traditions and cultures within those countries. I discovered more about the Sámi and Kven people in one hour than I had known in a lifetime to date. As Louis Armstrong once sang, What A Wonderful World!




