The Rise of Ragnar, now streaming on Netflix, emerges as a bold and immersive exploration of one of the most iconic figures in Viking history. Designed to captivate both fans of Norse mythology and newcomers to the Viking legend, the series plunges headfirst into the formative years of Ragnar Lodbrok, long before he became a king, a raider, or a legend. Unlike previous portrayals of Ragnar that focused on his rise to power and eventual fall, this new series offers an unflinching look at the young man who would go on to shape the course of Northern Europe. It is not merely a prequel or a nostalgic retread; it’s a deeply human story about growth, grit, survival, and the making of a myth.
From its very first episode, The Rise of Ragnar sets a tone that is both intimate and epic. The scale is unmistakably cinematic, with sweeping shots of Nordic landscapes—frozen fjords, roaring seas, and dense forests—that are almost characters in their own right. But it is the personal stakes that make the story resonate. At the heart of it all is young Ragnar, portrayed by breakout actor Elias Halldórsson, whose performance balances fierce ambition with the vulnerabilities of youth. This Ragnar is not yet the ruthless tactician or legendary raider he will become. He is still shaped by loss, idealism, and the tension between his dreams and the brutal world that surrounds him.
The narrative begins in a small coastal village on the edges of the known world. Ragnar is the second son of a minor chieftain, restless and unfulfilled. His community is bound by tradition, wary of change, and locked in petty rivalries with neighboring clans. It is a world of rigid hierarchies, but Ragnar, even as a teenager, sees beyond it. He dreams of lands across the sea, of adventure, conquest, and fate. These dreams isolate him at first—seen as foolish by his father, dangerous by village elders, and naive by his peers. But they also make him magnetic. As the series unfolds, we witness Ragnar slowly build a circle of allies who, like him, are disillusioned with the old ways and hungry for something greater.
What distinguishes The Rise of Ragnar from other historical dramas is its refusal to romanticize the Viking age. The world is grim, harsh, and often unforgiving. The violence is not stylized or glorified, but visceral and deeply consequential. There are no clean victories; every battle comes at a cost. Characters suffer not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. This realism anchors the show and makes Ragnar’s transformation all the more compelling. When he begins to lead raids, it’s not with the swagger of a seasoned warlord, but with the desperate conviction of someone who believes he has no other choice. Each raid is a gamble, each decision a risk. Yet, through these trials, Ragnar’s genius begins to shine—not just as a warrior, but as a leader, a thinker, and a visionary.
The series also excels in its portrayal of relationships. Ragnar’s dynamic with his family, particularly his father Sigvald and his brother Hrothgar, is fraught with tension and tenderness. Sigvald, played with stoic gravitas by Guðmundur Kristjánsson, is a traditionalist who views Ragnar’s ideas as threats to the fragile stability of their clan. Their clashes are ideological as much as personal, reflecting generational divides that feel as relevant today as they did a millennium ago. Hrothgar, on the other hand, serves as both a foil and a mirror to Ragnar—a loyal brother whose journey diverges sharply from his own. The emotional weight of their bond becomes a recurring theme, culminating in one of the series’ most heartbreaking and powerful story arcs.
Romantic subplots, often mishandled in historical dramas, are treated with nuance and complexity here. Aslaug, a shieldmaiden and seer, enters Ragnar’s life not as a love interest in the traditional sense, but as an intellectual equal and spiritual partner. Their connection is based on shared vision and mutual respect, and their conversations—ranging from the nature of fate to the morality of conquest—are some of the show’s most thought-provoking moments. There is passion, yes, but it is passion rooted in purpose. Their relationship stands in contrast to Ragnar’s earlier, more impulsive entanglements, highlighting his growth and the shifting priorities of a man stepping into his destiny.
Culturally, The Rise of Ragnar is deeply embedded in Norse mythology and belief systems. The gods are ever-present, not as literal characters but as forces that shape the choices and fears of the people. Rituals, omens, and visions are woven seamlessly into the plot, grounding the story in its historical context while also adding layers of mysticism and symbolic depth. The show does not present these elements as mere folklore, but as an essential lens through which the characters interpret their world. This spiritual dimension enhances the narrative without overwhelming it, reminding viewers that for the Vikings, fate was not just a concept—it was a reality to be wrestled with, feared, and ultimately embraced.
Production-wise, the series is a triumph. The set design is meticulous, blending historical accuracy with artistic flair. Costumes reflect status, regional variation, and the wear-and-tear of daily life. Weapons and armor are crafted with attention to detail, and the choreography of the fight scenes emphasizes realism over spectacle. Sound design and music further elevate the experience. A haunting score composed by Icelandic artist Bryndís Eiríksdóttir uses traditional instruments and modern soundscapes to evoke both the brutality and the beauty of Ragnar’s world. Every element—from the echo of waves crashing against a longboat to the quiet crackle of a village fire—feels intentional and immersive.
As the season progresses, Ragnar’s world expands. He begins to encounter new cultures, engage with rival leaders, and grapple with the consequences of ambition. What begins as a local struggle for respect and freedom evolves into a sweeping narrative about power, loyalty, and identity. The show resists the temptation to frame Ragnar as a flawless hero. Instead, it embraces the contradictions that made him legendary—his capacity for compassion and cruelty, for vision and violence. This layered portrayal challenges viewers to consider what it means to lead, and whether greatness can exist without moral compromise.
One of the show’s boldest choices is its nonlinear structure in the later episodes. Flashbacks and flash-forwards blur the lines between memory, prophecy, and reality, creating a tapestry of experiences that build toward a climactic finale. This structure allows the narrative to explore not just what Ragnar does, but why he does it—what he fears, what he hopes for, and what he is willing to sacrifice. It also introduces an element of narrative uncertainty. Are we witnessing history, myth, or something in between? The series invites viewers to decide for themselves, mirroring the way Ragnar’s own story has been passed down through conflicting sagas and oral traditions.
The Rise of Ragnar is more than a historical drama—it is a meditation on the nature of legacy. In a world where so much is fleeting, what endures? For Ragnar, the answer lies not in treasure or titles, but in the stories people tell. His actions echo through generations, not because they were grand or perfect, but because they were bold and unforgettable. The show closes with a haunting monologue, not from Ragnar himself, but from a skald reciting his deeds to a new generation. The camera pans out from a flickering fire in a mead hall to the vast night sky, stars shimmering like runes. It is a reminder that while the man may fade, the myth endures.
Netflix has taken a gamble with The Rise of Ragnar by crafting a series that is both emotionally complex and narratively ambitious. It does not pander to audiences looking for easy thrills or simplified morality. Instead, it challenges, provokes, and ultimately rewards those willing to invest in its slow-burning, character-driven storytelling. It is not a retelling of familiar tales, but a reimagining of what those tales mean. By focusing on the man behind the myth, it adds new depth to a figure too often reduced to caricature. For fans of historical epics, mythological narratives, or simply great television, The Rise of Ragnar is a must-watch—and one that lingers long after the final episode fades to black.
