Swedish

‘Sentimental Value’ review: Stellan Skarsgård and Elle Fanning steal Swedish drama

Renate Reinsve is the new face of Scandinavia: depression with a smile. Standing 5 feet 10 with open, friendly features, the Norwegian talent has a grin that makes her appear at once like an endearing everywoman and a large, unpredictable child. Reinsve zoomed to international acclaim with her Cannes-winning performance in Joachim Trier’s 2021 “The Worst Person in the World,” a dramedy tailor-made to her lanky, likable style of self-loathing. Now, Trier has written his muse another showcase, “Sentimental Value,” where Reinsve plays an emotionally avoidant theater actor who bounces along in pretty much the same bittersweet key.

“Sentimental Value” gets misty about a few things — families, filmmaking, real estate — all while circling a handsome Oslo house where the Borg clan has lived for four generations. It’s a dream home with red trim on the window frames and pink roses in the yard. Yet, sisters Nora (Reinsve) and Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas) aren’t fighting to keep it, perhaps due to memories of their parents’ hostile divorce or maybe because they don’t want to deal with their estranged father, Gustav (Stellan Skarsgård, wonderful), who grew up there himself and still owns the place, even though he’s moved to Sweden.

Trier opens the film with a symbolically laden camera pan across Oslo that ends on a cemetery. He wants to make sure we understand that while Norway looks idyllic to outsiders jealous that all four Scandinavian countries rank among the globe’s happiest, it can still be as gloomy as during the era of Henrik Ibsen.

More impressively, Trier shifts to a fabulous, time-bending historical montage of the house itself over the century-plus it’s belonged to the Borgs. There’s a crack in it that seems to represent the fissures in the family, the flaws in their facade. Over these images, Reinsve’s Nora recites a 6th-grade school essay she wrote about her deep identification with her childhood home. Having grown up to become terrified of intimacy, today she’s more like a detached garage.

Nora and Agnes were young when their father, a modestly well-regarded art-house filmmaker, decamped to a different country. At a retrospective of his work, Gustav refers to his crew as his “family,” which would irritate his kids if they’d bothered to attend. Agnes, a former child actor, might note that she, too, deserves some credit. Played in her youth by the compelling Ida Atlanta Kyllingmark Giertsen, Agnes was fantastic in the final shot of Gustav’s masterpiece and Trier takes a teasingly long time to suggest why she retired from the business decades ago, while her older sister keeps hammering at it.

Gustav hasn’t made a picture in 15 years. He’s in that liminal state of renown that I’m guessing Trier has encountered many times: a faded director who’s burned through his money and clout, but still keeps a tuxedo just in case he makes it back to Cannes. Like Reinsve’s Nora, Gustav acts younger than his age and is at his most charming in small doses, particularly with strangers. Trier and his longtime co-writer Eskil Vogt have made him a tad delusional, someone who wouldn’t instantly recognize his graying reflection in a mirror. Sitting down at a cafe with Nora, Gustav jokes that the waitress thinks that they’re a couple on a date. (She almost certainly doesn’t.)

But the tension between Gustav and Nora is real, if blurry. He’s invited her to coffee not as father and daughter, but as a has-been angling to cast Nora as the lead of his next film, which he claims he’s written for her. His script climaxes with a nod to the day his own mother, Karin (Vilde Søyland), died by suicide in their house back when he was just a towheaded boy of 7. Furthering the sickly mojo, Gustav wants to stage his version of the hanging in the very room where it happened.

His awkward pitch is a terrific scene. Gustav and Nora are stiff with each other, both anxious to prove they don’t need the other’s help. But Trier suggests, somewhat mystically, that Gustav has an insight into his daughter’s gloom that making the movie will help them understand. Both would rather express themselves through art than confess how they feel.

When Gustav offers his daughter career advice, it comes off like an insult. She’s miffed when her dad claims his small indie would be her big break. Doesn’t he know she’d be doing him the favor? She’s the lead of Oslo’s National Theatre with enough of a social media following to get the film financed. (With 10 production companies listed in the credits of this very film, Trier himself could probably calculate Nora’s worth to the krone.)

But Gustav also has a lucky encounter with a dewy Hollywood starlet named Rachel (Elle Fanning) who sees him as an old-world bulldog who can give her resume some class. Frustrated by her coterie of assistants glued to their cellphones, Rachel gazes at him with the glowy admiration he can’t get from his own girls. Their dynamic proves to be just as complex as if they were blood-related. If Rachel makes his film, she’ll become a combo platter of his mother, his daughter, his protégée and his cash cow. Nora merely merits the financing for a low-budget Euro drama; Rachel can make it a major Netflix production (something “Sentimental Value” most adamantly is not).

It takes money to make a movie. Trier’s itchiness to get into that unsentimental fact isn’t fully scratched. He seems very aware that the audience for his kind of niche hit wants to sniffle at delicate emotions. When Gustav’s longtime producer Michael (Jesper Christensen) advises him to keep making films “his way” — as in antiquated — or when Gustav takes a swipe at Nora’s career as “old plays for old people,” the frustration in those lines, those doubts whether to stay the course or chase modernity, makes you curious if Trier himself is feeling a bit hemmed in.

There’s a crack running through “Sentimental Value” too. A third of it wants to be a feisty industry satire, but the rest believes there’s prestige value in tugging on the heartstrings. The title seems to be as much about that as anything.

I’ve got no evidence for Trier’s restlessness other than an observation that “Sentimental Value” is most vibrant when the dialogue is snide and the visuals are snappy. There’s a stunning image of Gustav, Nora and Agnes’ faces melting together that doesn’t match a single other frame of the movie, but I’m awful glad cinematographer Kasper Tuxen Andersen got it in there.

The film never quite settles on a theme, shifting from the relationship between Nora and Agnes, Nora and Gustav, and Gustav and Rachel like a gambler spreading their bets, hoping one of those moments will earn a tear. Nora herself gets lost in the shuffle. Is she jealous of her father’s attention to Rachel? Does she care about her married lover who pops up to expose her issues? Does she even like acting?

Reinsve’s skyrocketing career is Trier’s most successful wager and he gives her enough crying scenes to earn an Oscar nomination. Skarsgård is certainly getting one too. But Fanning delivers the best performance in the film. She’s not only hiding depression under a smile, she’s layering Rachel’s megawatt charisma under her eagerness to please, allowing her insecurity at being Gustav’s second pick to poke through in rehearsals where she’s almost — but not quite — up to the task.

Rachel could have been some Hollywood cliché, but Fanning keeps us rooting for this golden girl who hopes she’ll be taken seriously by playing a Nordic depressive. Eventually, she slaps on a silly Norwegian accent in desperation and wills herself to cry in character. And when she does, Fanning has calibrated her sobs to have a hint of hamminess. It’s a marvelous detail that makes this whole type of movie look a little forced.

‘Sentimental Value’

In Norwegian and English, with subtitles

Rated: R, for some language including a sexual reference, and brief nudity

Running time: 2 hours, 13 minutes

Playing: In limited release Friday, Nov. 7

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I skied up to the highest mountain hut in the Swedish Arctic. My reward? A whiteout … | Sweden holidays

The light coming through the sleeper train window wakes me. It’s nearly time. Climbing down the ladder past the other snoozing occupants, I head into the corridor. A few hours ago there were only trees, an endless unfurling ribbon of spruce and birch. Now there is snow, vast banks of it. And sometimes, when the train roars through a big drift, great spumes of white blast out on either side, blocking any view.

In the restaurant car, I watch the map on my phone as a blue dot approaches a straight dashed line. A frozen lake and distant pale mountains appear. Then at 6.09am we cross the Arctic Circle. Forty-eight hours previously, I had been in London St Pancras station, queueing for the Eurostar. Now, five trains later, never having left terra firma, I am in the Arctic. Most of my fellow travellers are Swedes with hefty bags of skis and well-stocked sledges that look expedition-ready. With their weathered faces and lean muscle, they look intimidatingly capable.

My plan is a mini-expedition of my own: to ski to the highest mountain hut in the Swedish Arctic, and get back down in one piece. Because I have never used the particular type of skis required for going uphill, the plan seems ambitious.

The train passes through the mining town of Kiruna, then skirts the 43-mile (70km) long lake of Torneträsk. A pair of moose graze on the stunted birch trees. There are no more pines; we have passed beyond their limit of endurance. All around is the ethereal pale beauty of the hills, their summits soft with wind-puffed quiffs of snow powder.

At Björkliden, I disembark. The ski station is right next to the railway, which has almost reached its northernmost limit, curling through one more ski village, Riksgränsen, before heading west to the Norwegian port of Narvik. Within two hours of arriving, I am on skis, gingerly tackling a beginners’ slope.

Skiing in the Swedish Arctic has some immediate obvious differences to more southerly locations. After the spring equinox, the days are longer. By mid-May there is no darkness at all. You ski under the midnight sun. The weather is changeable and people pay special attention to the wind: the chill factor can be extreme. But there are similarities, too: I am still a wobbly skier. I take it easy. I spend a lot of time talking to veterans of the climb up to Låktatjåkko mountain hut.

“It’s 9km,” they tell me. “The last bit can be a challenge.”

I practise putting on my skins: long bands that fit over the underside of the skis and make them refuse to go backwards, even downhill. I cannot help wondering if it might be easier to walk, but I am soon corrected. “It’s going to snow heavily tonight. You would just sink up to your waist. And you need the skis to get back down.”

In hut pursuit: the writer skiing up towards Låktatjåkko.

The advice is to wait for the supply wagon to leave at 10am. It’s a tracked snowplough and will create a route to follow. There are also marker poles every 25 metres. I’m advised to wear an avalanche alarm and carry a lightweight folding shovel.

At 10am the next morning, I am outside the hotel, watching a company of Swedish soldiers in white combat suits ski away. The snowcat is loading up with food. There are passengers too. The driver confirms that it is often possible to go up without skiing at all, but there are no more seats.

I set off in the wake of its broad tracks. The ski skins work well. The sun is out, there is no wind and the views are stupendous. Five minutes later, I’m in a whiteout, struggling to spot the next marker pole, the snowcat long gone and its tracks fast disappearing. The temperature is -6C, and the wind is in my face and strengthening. I start counting steps. Despite the cold, I am down to two layers of clothing, wishing I had remembered the advice of the explorer Leo Houlding: “Be bold, start cold.” My respect for polar explorers has reached an all-time high. My respect for Sweden, too. What a marvellous country! They trust people to know their limits, look after themselves and be as tough as reindeer jerky. In my case, I’m not sure their trust is entirely well placed.

The final climb, as promised, is a tough one, but then the hut comes into sight, almost buried in snow, looking like the last frozen outpost on the far side of a freezing galaxy. It takes time to find the door.

Låktatjåkko mountain hut. Photograph: Wolfgang Kaehler/Alamy

Inside, the custodians, Vilma and Kicki, are preparing waffles with cloudberry jam, and the log burner in the snug is roaring. This astonishing retreat was constructed in the late 1930s and is now an acknowledged classic of its type, with simple bunkrooms, cosy public areas and a sauna. The only other guests are Martin and Johan, local skiers who have just made the harder ascent from Riksgränsen.

I munch through a plate of waffles. The top of the mountain is a tantalising 200 metres above the hut. I really want to make it. “Don’t ski,” advises Vilma. “Use snowshoes and just keep heading north.”

When blue sky reappears, I strap on the snowshoes and set off. I manage about 100 metres of the climb before the whiteout returns. Using a compass I plod on, but the lack of any visible markers is playing weird tricks on me. I spot a snowmobile up ahead, manned by two soldiers, but as I approach, the soldiers transform into swans and fly away. At that moment, I walk face-first into a snowbank.

This is my initiation into whiteout disorientation. Some skiers have reported feeling that they are moving when stationary; others, the opposite. Unhindered by visual reference points, the brain constructs its own reality.

I check my altimeter. I am 30 metres below the summit, but I can’t see how to get around this snowbank. My own tracks are now disappearing, so I return to the hut on a compass bearing and reward myself with more waffles.

The few day-trippers are gone, the fire is warm and the storm outside howling. Martin and Johan watch the weather anxiously from their armchairs. “Look,” shouts Martin at one point, “blue sky! I think it’s clearing.” But by the time he reaches the window, the whiteout has resumed. The evening passes in a fug of beer, stories and laughter.

Waffles with cloudberry jam are served in Låktatjåkko mountain hut. Photograph: Mattias Fredriksson

In the morning, the storm is still raging when the snowcat arrives. Martin and Johan are willing to ski down with me, but fearing I will hold them up, I cadge a lift. The next day, I move to Riksgränsen. There is a choice of accommodation, ranging from the boisterous fun of the main hotel to the superlative charm of Niehku Mountain Villa. Built in the old railway turntable buildings and decorated with a fascinating display of historical photos, this boutique hotel also has an excellent restaurant.

The next morning, the weather has improved and I am treated to a perfect day on the mountains, happily tootling around on blue runs while watching the experts carve powdery curves down near-vertical mountain slopes. It looks amazingly dangerous, but these locals know their limits. And so do I. Taking the easy route down, I make it to the cafe and order waffles with cloudberry jam.

The trip was provided by Visit Sweden. The writer travelled on a seven-day Interrail pass (adult £335, youth £252, senior £302, under-12 free). A one-day ski pass is £39. Låktatjåkko mountain lodge costs from £150 half-board. Further information at laplandresorts.se

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Gripen E Fighter Officially Joins The Swedish Air Force

The Swedish Armed Forces have finally gotten their hands on their first operational Saab Gripen E multirole fighter. The first of 60 of the new jets marks a significant step in the modernization of the Swedish Air Force, which is reconfiguring its posture to better face off the resurgent threat from Russia.

På plats vid F7 Såtenäs där Försvarsmakten idag tar emot den första av 60 JAS Gripen E. Det är en viktig dag för flygvapnet och det svenska försvaret. Gripen E är ett exempel på svensk teknologisk framkant och är ett modernt stridsflyg som i allt väsentligt är helt nytt. (1/3) pic.twitter.com/Bse70Hb5DX

— Pål Jonson (@PlJonson) October 20, 2025

The first Gripen E for the Swedish Air Force touched down at the airbase of Såtenäs, in south-central Sweden, yesterday. This is the home of F 7, or the Skaraborg Wing, which will be the service’s first operational Gripen E unit. A handover ceremony at Såtenäs included representatives from the Swedish Ministry of Defense, the Swedish Armed Forces, the Swedish Defense Materiel Administration (FMV), and Saab.

Mikael Granholm of the FMV, Minister of Defense Pål Jonson, Swedish Armed Forces Commander-in-Chief Michael Claesson, Swedish Air Force Chief Jonas Wikman, and Skaraborg Wing Commander Mattias Ottis. Forsvarsmakten

“This is a big day that marks the beginning of a new chapter in Swedish aviation history,” said Skaraborg’s Wing Commander Mattias Ottis. “F 7 Skaraborg Wing is the center of Swedish fighter aircraft development; we are paving the way for the future. We are ready, we are excited, and now we are going for it.”

“This marks an important milestone in the development of the Swedish defense. It is the result of long-term cooperation and close collaboration between the Swedish Armed Forces, FMV, and Swedish industry. Gripen E strengthens our national defense capability to meet future threats together with our allies,” added Michael Claesson, commander-in-chief of the Swedish Armed Forces.

Notably, the Gripen E is already in operational service, in Brazil.

A Brazilian Air Force Gripen E. Saab Linus Svensson @Saab

The Latin American nation was the first export customer for the jet and has also inaugurated a domestic production line, which will build 15 of the 36 aircraft currently contracted to the Brazilian Air Force. Unlike Sweden, Brazil is also receiving the two-seat variant of the jet, the Gripen F. The first Gripen for Brazil was shipped from Sweden to South America by sea, arriving there in September 2020.

Returning to Sweden, the Gripen E is seen very much as a cornerstone of the country’s changing defense policy, which has seen a renewed emphasis on its fighter fleet as the country grapples with a further deterioration in regional security policy including increasing Russian belligerence.

A pair of Swedish Gripen E test jets. Saab

As well as joining NATO, in response to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, this new posture has seen Sweden decide to retain its older Gripen C/D fleet for longer, alongside the new-generation Gripen Es.

This marks a notable change for the Swedish Air Force.

After all, when switching from the Cold War-era Saab Viggen to the Gripen, the Swedish Air Force decided to use only one type of fighter aircraft for all tasks. Operating the Gripen E in parallel with the Gripen C/D, beyond a normal transition, reverses this.

JAS39C Gripen Ukraine
A Swedish Air Force Gripen C. Saab SAAB

Despite its similar outward appearance, the Gripen E is regarded as a completely new aircraft type — as you can read about here.

Ultimately, the Gripen E will take over the tasks currently performed by the Gripen C/D, but the two will serve together for “a relatively long period of time,” according to the Swedish Air Force.

In basic mission terms, the Gripen E offers a longer range and can carry a heavier load than its predecessor. The aircraft is slightly larger than the C-model at just under 50 feet and includes a beefed-up fuselage that accommodates approximately 30 percent more fuel. The aircraft also features larger air intakes, the more powerful General Electric F414 engine, and a total of 10 hardpoints. 

On those 10 hardpoints, the heavy loads can include up to four of the big Saab RBS 15 anti-ship missiles, up to nine air-to-air missiles, or 16 Small Diameter Bombs, albeit at the expense of external fuel.

A Gripen E carrying four RBS 15 anti-ship missiles. Saab

“It’s a completely new system — built to meet future requirements for survivability, range, sensors, and interoperability. It’s the result of Swedish engineering and innovation with a clear focus on operational effectiveness,” explained Mattias Ottis, commander of the Skaraborg Wing.

Under the skin, the Gripen E is also substantially different.

New features include its sensors, among them an active electronically scanned array (AESA) radar, and an infrared search and track (IRST) system. The communications system is also new, as is the aircraft’s advanced electronic warfare self-protection system.

The Gripen E’s IRST is located ahead of the windscreen. Jamie Hunter

All this reflects the fact that the Gripen E is intended to operate in a different threat environment compared to the Gripen C/D, a fact made clear by the Swedish Air Force:

“The Swedish Armed Forces have needed to find a way to operate in what is known as a ‘contested environment,’ i.e., an area where they do not have control,” the Air Force explains. “In the past, it was possible to take off and land in a controlled environment. Today, as soon as the aircraft takes off, we find ourselves in an uncertain environment, hence the need to develop a new and more capable fighter aircraft system.”

A Swedish Gripen E test jet. Saab

In another reflection of the increasingly contested environment that the Swedish Air Force is expected to be able to fight in, the Gripen E is being tested loaded with an artificial intelligence (AI) agent that can conduct autonomous beyond-visual-range air-to-air combat. You can read more about this initiative here. Suffice it to say, it’s very much focused on enabling a much smaller air arm (the Swedish Air Force) to deal with a potential large-scale Russian aerial attack. In such a scenario, AI could play a critical role in helping a force of Gripens armed with Meteor air-to-air missiles, for example, to prioritize multiple incoming threats and find the best solutions to combat them.

AI JAS-36 gripen tests for long-range air-to-air combat are underway.
A Gripen E loaded with an artificial intelligence (AI) agent, known as Centaur. Saab SAAB

At the same time, the Gripen E retains some commonality with the Gripen C/D, especially in terms of its flying qualities.

The Swedish Air Force describes the new aircraft as “just as easy to fly and maneuver” as the Gripen C/D, and that pilots trained on the earlier aircraft “will feel right at home in the E.” This is especially important considering that, as mentioned previously, Sweden will not be buying two-seat versions of the new jet, which would ease the training process.

While the first Gripen E may have just been delivered, Sweden is already starting to plan for what might come next.

In a statement regarding the introduction of the new fighter, Swedish Minister of Defense Pål Jonson said: “Parallel to the introduction of Gripen E, studies are underway to prepare for the next generation of fighter aircraft.”

As TWZ has discussed, the FMV recently awarded Saab with a contract, worth around $276 million, for continued conceptual studies for future fighter systems.

The Swedish Defense Materiel Administration (FMV) recently awarded Saab with the contract, worth around $276 million and covering the period from 2025 to 2027. As well as the FMV, Saab will work with the Swedish Armed Forces, the Swedish Defense Research Agency, GKN Aerospace, and other industry partners.
A rendering of a concept for a supersonic uncrewed platform in the F-Series, as developed by Saab. SVT screencap via X SVT screencap via X

At this early stage, it’s very much unclear what the Swedish Air Force’s future combat air ‘ecosystem’ will look like and how it will balance crewed and uncrewed assets — or if it will be an all-drone combat fleet.

But with the Gripen E only just entering service, it would seem to make sense that it’s paired in the future with stealthy drones. We have discussed in the past how ‘loyal wingman’ type drones are potentially even more relevant to so-called ‘generation 4.5’ fighters than fifth-generation ones.

Saab and the Swedish government, meanwhile, will hope that the induction of the Gripen E with the Swedish Air Force serves as a springboard for more export orders. After Brazil joined the program as a co-partner, it took a long time for more orders to come in, with the Gripen E/F losing out on more than one occasion to the F-35. More recently, however, the Gripen E has been ordered by Thailand — which already operates the Gripen C/D — and has been selected as Colombia’s next fighter jet.

Royal Thai Air Force Gripen and Saab 340 AEW / Erieye
A Royal Thai Air Force Gripen D and a Saab 340 Erieye radar plane. Saab Peter Liander

The Gripen has also repeatedly been linked with a possible transfer to Ukraine, a topic that was reportedly discussed between President Volodymyr Zelensky and Swedish Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson earlier this month. Sweden’s long-term plan is to have 120 Gripens serving by 2030, with half being E variants. That would leave roughly 37 Gripen C/D models potentially available to Ukraine, but the number is likely somewhat lower due to airframe fatigue and other factors. 

The long-term future of Sweden as a developer and producer of crewed combat aircraft is by no means certain. But in the meantime, the start of Gripen F deliveries to the Swedish Air Force ensures that the service remains at the cutting edge as it starts to look forward to the next generation of combat aircraft.

Contact the author: [email protected]

Thomas is a defense writer and editor with over 20 years of experience covering military aerospace topics and conflicts. He’s written a number of books, edited many more, and has contributed to many of the world’s leading aviation publications. Before joining The War Zone in 2020, he was the editor of AirForces Monthly.




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Entire church to be transported across Swedish city of Kiruna

Erika Benke

BBC News, Kiruna

Reuters Kiruna's historic wooden church sits on a wheeled transportation unit before being moved to a new site in Kiruna, Sweden Reuters

The relocation of the church will take place over two days

A landmark 113-year-old church at risk from ground subsidence is about to be relocated in its entirety – in a 5km (3 miles) move along a road in Sweden’s far north.

The vast red timber structure in Kiruna dating back to 1912 has been hoisted on giant rolling platforms ahead of the move to the new city centre.

Travelling at a maximum speed of 500m an hour, the journey is expected to take two days.

The old city centre is at risk from ground fissures after more than a century of iron ore mining. The church’s move is the most spectacular and symbolic moment of the wider relocation of buildings in Kiruna, which lies 145km north of the Arctic Circle.

A map showing the route along which the church will be transported

In the words of culture strategist Sofia Lagerlöf Määttä, “it’s like finally, let’s get it done. We’ve been waiting for so many years”.

“We’ve done so much preparation,” says the man in charge of the move, project manager Stefan Holmblad Johansson.

“It’s a historic event, a very big and complex operation and we don’t have a margin of error. But everything is under control.”

His composure reflects years of planning.

By the mid-2010s, other buildings in Kiruna were already being shifted to safer ground. Most were demolished and rebuilt, but some landmarks were moved intact.

These include buildings in Hjalmar Lundbohmsgården such as the so-called yellow row of three old wooden houses and the former home of mining manager Hjalmar Lundbohm, which was split into three parts.

The clock tower on the roof of the old city hall was also moved and can now be found next to the new city hall.

Robert Ylitalo Kiruna church at night in the snowRobert Ylitalo

The church has been at its current location since 1912

Under Swedish law, mining activity can not take place under buildings.

Robert Ylitalo, chief executive officer of Kiruna’s development company, explains: “There’s no risk of people falling through cracks. But fissures would eventually damage the water, electricity and sewage supply. People have to move before the infrastructure fails.”

The iron ore mine’s operator, LKAB – also Kiruna’s biggest employer – is covering the city’s relocation bill, estimated at more than 10bn Swedish krona ($1bn; £737m).

Kiruna Church is 35m (115ft) high, 40m wide and weighs 672 tonnes. It was once voted Sweden’s most beautiful pre-1950 building.

Relocating such a large building is an unusual feat. But instead of dismantling it, engineers are moving it in one piece, supported by steel beams and carried on self-propelled modular transporters.

“The biggest challenge was preparing the road for such a wide building,” says project manager Mr Johansson.

“We’ve widened it to 24 metres (79ft) and along the way we removed lampposts, traffic lights as well as a bridge that was slated for demolition anyway.”

Among the most delicate aspects of the move is the protection of the church’s interior treasures, especially its great altar painting made by Prince Eugen, a member of Sweden’s royal family.

“It’s not something hanging on a hook that you just take off,” says Mr Johansson.

“It’s glued directly onto a masonry wall so it would have been difficult to remove without damage. So it will remain inside the church during the move, fully covered and stabilised. So will the organ with its 1,000 pipes.”

Reuters Kiruna's historic wooden church sits on a wheeled transportation unit before being moved to a new site in Kiruna, Sweden Reuters

The church has been hoisted on wheeled transportation unit

LKAB Metal scaffolding securing the interior parts of the churchLKAB

Interior parts of the church have been secured by metal scaffolding

The move is much more than an engineering marvel for local residents – it’s a deeply emotional moment.

“The church has served as a spiritual centre and a gathering place for the community for generations,” says Sofia Lagerlöf Määttä, who remembers walking into the church for the first time as a young child with her grandmother.

“The move has brought back memories of joy and sorrow to us, and we’re now moving those memories with us into the future.”

That feeling is also shared by project manager Stefan Holmblad Johansson, an engineer who doubles as a member of the church’s gospel choir.

“This is a very special task for me,” he says. “The church was built over a 100 years ago for the municipality by LKAB. Now we move it to the new city. There simply can’t be any other way.”

Reuters Pastor Lena Tjarnberg, speaks during an interview in front of Kiruna's historic wooden church, before it is moved to its new site Reuters

The church is leaving a place where it truly belongs, says Vicar Lena Tjärnberg

For the church’s vicar, Lena Tjärnberg, the moment carries added meaning.

“The church is leaving a place where it truly belongs,” she says.

“Everyone knows it has to be relocated: we live in a mining community and depend on the mine. I’m grateful that we’re moving the church with us to the new city centre but there is also sorrow in seeing it leave the ground where it became a church.”

As the massive walls of Kiruna church begin to inch forward, thousands of residents and visitors – Sweden’s King Carl Gustaf among them – are expected to line the route.

Swedish television will also broadcast the entire journey live as “slow TV”, marking a rare moment when a piece of history does not just survive change – it moves with it.

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A taste of Swedish island life – but on the mainland, near Stockholm | Sweden holidays

I moved to Stockholm from London for work a decade ago. As a newcomer with a passion for nature, I remember being eager to soak up the region’s archipelago of 30,000 islands and rocky outposts. But I was overwhelmed by complex public ferry timetables to dozens of places ending in the letter “ö” (the Swedish word for island) and uninterested in pricey cruise boats packed with tour groups.

Then a former flatmate recommended Nynäshamn, which is on the mainland but embodies much of the nature and spirit of Stockholm’s archipelago. It’s home to a tasteful waterfront of colourfully painted bars and restaurants and a harbour packed with boats every summer, from simple dinghies to luxury yachts. Beyond, you can look across a clean, calm stretch of Baltic Sea, towards the island of Bedarön, flanked by pine trees and a smattering of dark red detached houses.

Mention Nynäshamn to Stockholmers and most will probably describe it as the port you pass through to catch the four-hour ferry to Gotland – Sweden’s largest island – or an overnight cruise to Gdańsk in Poland. But for international tourists (or new Swedish residents, as I was), it is an entry-level coastal destination where you can get a taste of the city’s island life without the complex logistics.

Nynäshamn is on the commuter rail line from central Stockholm, and reachable in an hour. A one-way journey costs 43 kroner (£3.30), or it’s free if you have a valid monthly or weekly pass for the capital’s public transport system. For a little more adventure, it takes a further 30 minutes to reach Nåttarö, the closest island accessible by a public ferry service (£8 each way).

Nynäshamn’s pleasures are just an hour by train from Stockholm. Photograph: Zoonar/Alamy

My first destination in Nynäshamn is Trehörningen, an island suburb accessible by bridge, and just a 30-minute stroll from the train station. The route takes in a mishmash of glassy new-build apartments, low-rise 1960s rent-controlled flats and mansions with manicured gardens. Nynäshamn doesn’t have the swagger of swankier seaside towns in the region, such as Sandhamn or Saltsjöbaden, but it offers a slice of real-life small town Sweden far removed from the well-trodden tourist itineraries that typically lead to Stockholm’s medieval Old Town or isolated rural retreats.

“It’s very good for my health,” says Hans “Hasse” Larsson, a smiley 73-year-old former truck driver who moved to Nynäshamn from Stockholm 16 years ago. He enjoys the clean air and quiet lifestyle, and describes a stronger sense of community compared with the somewhat stiffer Swedish capital. “Even if you don’t know people very well, you’ll say ‘hej’!” he laughs.

Sweden isn’t a budget destination, but thanks to a favourable exchange rate, prices aren’t extortionate compared with those in popular British seaside destinations I’ve visited, such as Brighton or St Ives. On Trehörningen island, it costs from just over £100 a night to rent a compact wooden cottage for two from Oskarsgatan 12 B&B. A breakfast buffet and spa entry package at the nearby Nynäs Havsbad hotel works out at around £45. The spa’s pavilion is a reconstruction of an art nouveau-inspired resort built in 1906, complete with an outdoor hot tub, a sauna and panoramic views. The hotel complex includes original buildings from the early 20th century, when it was a base for sailors during the 1912 Stockholm Olympic Games.

From here, it’s a short walk to Strandvägen, a French riviera-inspired waterfront road built for spectators of sailing. As locals will proudly tell you, it is the only place in the Stockholm archipelago region where you can see the horizon from the mainland. The scenic route winds towards Lövhagen, a wooded area offering shady trails and picnic tables. There are rocky swimming coves too – although, with average outdoor temperatures of 18C in July and August, the chilly waters won’t be to everyone’s taste.

The spa pavilion of the Nynäs Havsbad hotel is a reconstruction of a 1906 art nouveau-inspired resort

For walkers, Nynäshamn is also a gateway to Sörmlandsleden, a system of hiking trails covering around 620 miles in total and clearly marked with orange arrows and painted tree markers. Section 5:1 from Nynäshamn passes through mossy forests and grassy farmland to the village of Osmö, where you can catch a train back to Nynäshamn or continue another nine miles to Hemfosa, snaking past Lake Muskan’s glistening waters.

Back at Nynäshamn’s main harbour, the restaurants are filling up with tourists hungry for lunch. The most famous spot is Nynäs Rökeri, a smokehouse dating back almost 40 years, where a platter of smoked salmon, seafood and potato salad costs less than £20. The adjacent delicatessen stocks fresh fish and classic Swedish treats, from cheesy västerbotten pie to crispbreads and lingonberry jam. A nearby courtyard is shared with customers visiting the ice-cream store Lejonet & Björnen, a small cafe and a gift shop.

The sweet smell of cinnamon wafts in the air and I spot the familiar logo of Skeppsbro Bageri, an award-winning Stockholm bakery that has a food truck parked on the waterfront, packed with fresh bread, buns and pastries. “I like it here,” says Emelie Elison, the 24-year-old student who is working in the van for her third summer in a row. “There are a lot of people and there’s always something happening.”

Emelie Elison in the Skeppsbro bakery truck. Photograph: Maddy Savage

Sweden’s cities empty out in July, as locals flock to the coast to spend the summer in wooden holiday cottages. There are more than 600,000 of these holiday homes, known as fritidshus, which are often passed down through generations; almost half of children with at least one Swedish parent have access to one. They also have plenty of time to enjoy them – most Swedish employees are entitled to four consecutive weeks off each summer.

After a grey morning, the sun comes out as I join the ferry queue for Nåttarö. Many around me are armed with bags of groceries, backpacks and even suitcases, intending to stay at least a week. But one sporty-looking couple, carrying only tiny running backpacks, tell me they are fellow day-trippers from Stockholm, planning to run a six-mile loop of the Stockholm Archipelago Trail, a newly marked hiking and trail-running route stretching 167 miles across 20 islands.

Most tourists visiting Nåttarö take things at a slower pace. It’s a small, car-free island with one simple convenience store and two restaurants by the harbour. The main draws are the pine-lined walking trails, rocky clifftops and sandy beaches. There are 50 wooden cabins for hire (sleeping up to six people, £90 a night). The campsite is priced at less than £5 a night, including access to pristine showers, compost toilets and dishwashing facilities. Wild camping is allowed too, thanks to allemansrätten, Sweden’s right to roam policy.

I take a 1¼-mile trail to Skarsand, a small beach in the north-east of the island. I have fond memories of celebrating a friend’s 40th birthday here a couple of years ago, when we camped with friends and their kids, cooking dinner on the beach’s public grill. Today, despite being peak holiday season, I have it all to myself, save for some passing hikers.

The sunny afternoon passes quickly, and a couple of hours later I’m back on the ferry for Nynäshamn. The Stockholm pair have made it too, having successfully completed their run. They are eagerly awaiting a pizza reward at Maggan’s, another popular restaurant in Nynäshamn’s harbour, and tell me they’ve squeezed clean T-shirts into their backpacks to change into. I’m planning a sunny evening drink on the waterfront too. Tomorrow I’ll be at my desk, catching up on emails – and researching my next coastal adventure.

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