Two brothers, Emil, [Elliott Crosset Hove], and Johan, [Simon Sears], work side by side at a limestone quarry, sharing a life built around the grind of the rough hours and the quiet tension between them. Emil is portrayed as eccentric and deeply mistrustful of others, a man who keeps to himself while quietly peddling illicitly brewed alcohol to fellow workers. He and Johan also pilfer unlabeled chemicals from the plant, turning the quarry into a small, dangerous enterprise. The bond between them is practical more than sentimental, a partnership born from necessity and a shared tolerance for risk.
Emil’s world expands when he visits a local hermit—the long-haired man [Anders Hove]—to collect payment on a debt tied to the alcohol trade. The hermit cannot settle in cash, but Emil accepts a semi-automatic M1 rifle as settlement, elevating the stakes of Emil’s underground enterprise and foreshadowing the violence that will seep into their everyday lives.
Back at the plant, trouble arrives quickly. Emil is caught sneaking a drink during a shift, and the next day the quarry’s driver refuses to give him passage to the site, forcing the two brothers to walk. Tension deepens as Johan repeats a rumor that Emil’s brew may have sickened a coworker. Johan describes Emil as “dark and aggressive,” while Emil insists that everyone harbors a little darkness inside them. On a wall near the processing area, a crude spray-painted image shows the coworker drinking poison and dropping dead, a stark visual reminder of the talk around the workplace. In the mine, Emil tests his luck, asking coworkers if they want to buy his alcohol, only to be met with a chorus of refusals. A confrontation with a coworker ends violently when the worker slings a limestone brick that strikes Emil in the temple. That night, Emil watches an army rifle training video, a signal that the rifle—the weapon he received as payment—will intrude into his life in unpredictable ways.
The next day, Emil’s boss, Carl [Lars Mikkelsen], orders him in under the guise of a performance review. The encounter becomes a humiliation: Carl mocks Emil and accuses him of stealing from the plant, and the two supervisors physically force-feed Emil an entire bottle of his own brew before tossing him out onto a quarry slope. The experience triggers a flash of violence and unreality, including a vision where Johan’s girlfriend Anna [Victoria Carmen Sonne] appears to profess love for Emil, and a second vision that casts Carl as the rifle instructor in the training video, turning their mundane work into a surreal drill for danger.
Back home, the tension explodes when Emil interrupts Johan and Anna’s intimate moment, attacking Johan in a fit of rage. Anna escapes through a window, and Johan retaliates with a choke that ends only when Emil is brought back from collapse by CPR. The subsequent atmosphere becomes one of menace and quiet warning: the ill coworker dies, and another worker warns Emil to stay away, recounting a grim fable of a man and his loyal dog waiting at the mine’s entrance, only for the mine to collapse and the dog to starve beside the entrance.
The following day brings a strange calm. Johan leaves for the quarry, while Anna stays the night with Emil. In a moment of odd calm, Emil shows Anna a card trick and then a chemistry trick, hinting at a mind that mixes danger with a sly, almost playful curiosity. In the mine, Johan’s coworkers begin to ostracize him and bark at him, the social pressure turning him into a pariah within his own circle.
> Everyone has a little darkness in them.
In the shadow of the quarry and the shared history of illicit risk, the film deepens its portrait of two men tethered to a dangerous path. The stark dynamics between Emil, Johan, and their surrounding world reveal how desperation, addiction, and violence can bend ordinary lives into something unrecognizable, yet eerily recognizable in its quiet, unglamorous humanity. The cast—Emil [Elliott Crosset Hove], Johan [Simon Sears], Anna [Victoria Carmen Sonne], and Carl [Lars Mikkelsen], with the enigmatic long-haired man [Anders Hove]—paints a bleak, precise picture of a community where trust is scarce and every gesture carries weight.
