To Cook a Bear, a six-part adaptation of Mikael Niemi’s 2018 novel, is an odd beast. Set in 1852 in the isolated Swedish village of Kengis, it follows a pastor (Gustaf Skarsgård) and his adopted Sami son Jussi (Emil Karlsen) as they clash with local elites over a murder investigation. The drama conjures a fine sense of bleakness, where suspicion and prejudice flourish, but the characters rarely become more than ciphers.
The plot kicks off when a maid, Hilda, goes missing from the woods. Bear markings are found, but the pastor suspects foul play. His detective work, however, becomes risible: he examines broken milk pots and clumps of hair like a cross between Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes, even having Jussi lick a mixture of blood spatter and his own spit to confirm it is dried blood. The evidence stacks up so quickly that plausibility is tested.
The village elite, including the sheriff and a fearsome mill owner, are bent on blaming a bear, perhaps to protect one of their own. The pastor’s pursuit of justice and equality sets him on a collision course with them. At its best, the show evokes the competing attractions of science and religion, reminiscent of The Essex Serpent. At its worst, it is daft and tonally jarring.
Despite strong performances, particularly from Simon J Berger as a creepy artist, the drama never truly comes to life. The characters remain emblematic figures in a fable, and the murder investigation is too silly to take seriously. To Cook a Bear is an ambitious but flawed historical crime drama that may leave viewers questioning their choice to watch.
