Content warning: suicide ideation; residential schools 

Woody (Leo Matthew Temela) is a 17-year-old Alaskan student, suffering from severe depression. He’s attempted to take his life several times and determines to try once again. But at the pivotal moment, Woody can’t go through with it. He shoots in the air — or at least he thinks he does.

Instead, Woody finds that a stray bullet has pierced the oil pipeline. Before he knows it, there’s millions of dollars worth of oil pouring out, and he’s on the run from the FBI. 

Agent Tarheel (Noomi Rapace) is initially disinterested in the case but her partner, Roomfield (Yin Wang) is young and new and desperate for a big win. This pipeline attack might just be it. 

While Woody tries to escape and survive in the wilderness, Tarheel attempts to manage the increasingly chaotic demands of her FBI overseers, who have decided that the pipeline was attacked by an eco-terrorist group which is threatening national security.

Despite being on the run, Woody finds solace in the kindness of strangers, and makes his way to a Indigenous reservation where he’s accepted as one of their own. But the FBI are dogs with a bone on this case, and Tarheel has a unique understanding of Woody that will make it harder for him to escape capture. 

In Alaska is a deliberately slow film. We’re supposed to feel every small victory — Woody finding clean stream water to drink — and his every defeat — getting ill from eating the wrong roots. Woody’s knowledge of the natural world seems like it should be in-built. He’s always travelling around his town in his ATV. But he’s lacking some basic survival skills. 

And that’s all tied into his struggle with his identity. Half-Inuit and half-white, he feels he belongs nowhere. His half-brother is in prison. His mother is distant and refuses to speak about her life. Woody is isolated and makes choices to become even more isolated. He pushes friends away and very clearly has plans to end his life. It’s tough watching. The moment when he tells his mother he’s burning rubbish as he throws a well-loved teddy bear on the fire? Heart-breaking. This is a boy at his wit’s end. He needs support but he gets none.

On the other hand, we have Tarheel, as restrained as Woody’s mother but fighting her own demons. In Woody, she sees a reflection of her own struggles and the need to be heard.

While the first half of In Alaska focuses on the cat and mouse chase between the FBI and Woody, the second half cements the thesis of the film. Woody’s dark demons don’t come out of nowhere — they’re the result of generational trauma. The way the film slowly reveals the lingering effects of colonialism and residential school violence absolutely blew me away. It was so cleverly and organically introduced, and I realized the seeds of that revelation had been there the entire time. There’s a scene near the end of the film that underlines how insidious residential school violence is. The dialogue is so deceptively simple and yet it manages to pack a hefty emotional punch. I’m still reeling.

I also appreciate the film acknowledging how depression doesn’t just disappear because one’s life circumstances change, or even when it improves. That’s the worst thing about depression — it doesn’t care how sad or happy you are. It’s a battle to fight, and it can be won repeatedly. 

What stood out to me were the performances. Debutant Temela is realistically expressive — no big emotions or histrionics. Despite the terrifying circumstances Woody finds himself in, Temelar shows remarkable restraint in his performance, quite outstanding for a first-time role.

Noomi Rapace says so much without saying much at all. A quick movement of the eyes, a lingering look, the pursing of her lips. That’s all she needs to tell the audience that she’s more like Woody than he realizes, and that’s what sets her apart from her FBI counterparts. Rapace brings a ton of depth to Tarheel, like she’s lived this character’s life and knows so much more than she’s letting on. 

I was seated next to a lady who knew someone from the production. Apparently Rapace had a ton more dialogue in the script that she stripped out to deliver her performance. You can absolutely tell — she’s able to convey so much because she has all the backstory. She doesn’t need to say it out loud.

But I can’t not mention the beauty of this film. Location. Location. Location. Scream it from the rooftops. I will defend location shooting for eternity. It changes the visual impact of the film and adds so many layers to the story. From the cramped rooms Woody ends up in to the dense and dark forest where he hides, to the sheer dwarfing scale of the snowy deserts where Woody becomes his full self — you can’t tell a story of the massive world we live in without showing it. Green screens are great but this, real places, there’s nothing like it. I had to remember to breathe at times because the beauty on screen took my breath away. Gorgeous. 

My criticism may not actually be directed at the film but at the ScotiaBank Theatre where I watched the TIFF press screening. The dialogue was often muffled while the sound effects were ear-shattering. Every gunshot was a nightmare. Even the ringing phone made my ears scream. Good heavens, Cineplex, do something about your sound system.

I didn’t think I’d be able to watch In Alaska at TIFF26 but I’m relieved that I managed to catch the screening. Festivals are often the few places you can watch films by Indigenous creators and I hate to lose that opportunity.

The story of In Alaska could have worked as a chase film. It could have worked as a road trip film. But the film chooses to examine so much more. It’s about the incarceral system, the generational trauma of the residential school system. It’s about identity, and belonging. It’s about depression. It’s about suicide. But surprisingly, this is a story about hope. That people can survive if they have the support they need, and when they can be their whole identity. The end of the film is such an unexpected u-turn from the start.

This film is slow but extremely deep. The beauty of the visuals contrast with the brutality of the trauma wrought on Indigenous peoples in North America. Backed by powerful and measured performances, this is a stunning film. I loved it. 

Stay tuned for more reviews from the Toronto International Film Festival 2026.