The Last Paradise on Earth
Click here if you liked this article 7 
https://scandinavianfilmfestival.com/films/sca25-the-last-paradise-on-earth
Date Reviewed: 17/07/2025
What happens to those content with their lives, in a world that demands change and movement?
Set against the breathtaking isolation of the Faroe Islands, The Last Paradise on Earth is a slow, aching meditation on belonging, loss, and the quiet defiance of choosing to stay.
Directed by Sakaris Stórá, the film is deeply personal; its stillness, silences, and aching beauty all speak to lived experience. It marks a cinematic milestone as the first feature shot entirely on the remote island of Suðuroy, basing its story in a place rarely seen on screen.
The story follows Kári, a young man who chooses to remain in a once-thriving fishing village. He lives with his sister, Silja, in a home that feels cold and unwelcoming following the death of their mother. Their father, emotionally distant and unreachable, drifts back to sea to work on a fishing boat. Around Kári, people float away - without confrontation, without closure.
The film's rhythm mirrors its landscape. The camera often lingers on Kári's repetitive routines: sorting the last of the fish and taking silent walks through the green expanse. These rhythms become a language of their own. We are asked to watch, not just the characters, but what surrounds them - the sea, the sky, the crumbling house - because here, the environment is not background, it is a character. As the fish disappear, so too does a way of life. The pace is slow but deliberate, giving viewers time to inhabit the breathtaking scenery, to feel its stillness and weight. It’s a film that rewards patience
Kári’s refusal to leave becomes the heart of the film, not because he is stuck, but because he is choosing to stay. His attachment to the land, to memory, to something that can't be found elsewhere, becomes his quiet protest. He isn’t chasing a better life somewhere else; he’s holding onto what remains.
The Last Paradise on Earth won’t be for everyone. It’s slow, unclear at times, and deeply introspective. But for those who let it wash over them, it offers something rare: a space to pause, to feel, to reflect. It’s a film about people who don’t know how to say what they’re feeling, and about how love can live in silence. And sometimes, that’s enough.