Hilda The Yule Lads 210 Television 

Five Thoughts on Hilda’s “The Yule Lads”

By | February 16th, 2021
Posted in Television | % Comments

While on their way to the Trolberg Winter Festival, Hilda, Frida, and David stumble upon a mysterious house at the end of a long alley that had never been there before. One peek inside and they unleash a whole mess of problems and existential problems upon the city. “The Yule Lads,” written by Todd Casey and directed by Andy Coyle, bristles with winter tale archetypes and ritualistic wonders.(Spoilers.)

1.) It’s That Time of Year

In pure Hilda fashion, the Trolberg Winter Festival bears resemblance to many different year-end holiday celebrations while also creating an event that’s distinctly its own. People hang decorations around their homes, exchange gifts, and gather together in the Trolberg Square to watch the Sostansil Tree bloom.

Like the late-night blooming cereus flower, the Sostansil Tree flourishes only once a year, after the sun goes down. It’s a glorious event that brings the whole town together: their whole season is set around it. At one point, a mustachioed man, whose voice does not match his character design and who feels distinctly out of place with his distinctly American accent, announces that the event will occur at any moment, and the town bristles with excitement. It’s glorious, too, with wide opening petals and glowing flowers. It’s a well-realized emotional climax for the episode.

I’ve seen Hilda called paganism but for kids here and there and, indeed, a good part of the series’ charm comes from a reverence to the older world. I doubt any of the characters know why they go through these rituals and routines, but they also know it’s part of the experience. Much of Hilda centers on ancient, eternal beings trying to reckon with and adapt to the new wrld, a world that doesn’t remember them but still hasn’t necessarily forgotten them, either.  These beings were responsible for how the world worked and, the show says, to lose that also means to lose part of ourselves.

2.) A Brief Word on The Yule Lads

Hilda, Frida, and David stumble upon a mysterious house at the end of a long alley, one that they had never seen before, and find themselves before the Yule Lads. According to Scandanavian myth, there are supposed to be thirteen of them but . . . well, that number of characters on-screen at the same time would overwhelm the frame and the animators, so we only see seven of them at once. They work in shifts.

They’re like Santa Claus and the Advent Calendar put together, though neither of them were popular in Iceland at the time. In the old folktales, they visited children over the thirteen nights of Christmas, leaving candy in their shoes if they had been good, and rotting potatoes if they were naughty. At least in some versions of the story. There’s a whole universe surrounding these creatures, which also includes a black cat that devours children if they’re not wearing one new piece of clothing. The Hilda creators decided not to include that cat.

Anyway, in other versions, in older versions, the Yule Lads were far more malevolent and conniving. Primarily thieves, they were known to lurk in windows and snatch pots, spoons, candles, and other trinkets aligned to their personalities. They poked, prodded, and lingered. In fact, in 1746, parents were banned from using the Yule Lads to terrify their kids.

Hilda borrows from both the classical interpretation and the modern renditions for “The Yule Lads.” They’re mischievous and out for fun, animated in constant movement with an enduring buoyancy. The kids are quickly exasperated by them but don’t see them as being much different than, say, the elves. But then they get excited about the prospect of naughty children. The lights lower, the shadows deepen, and their jovial beards turn into fangs.

Like in the old stories, Hilda associates them with Grýla. We learn they collect naughty children so she can eat them. Originally, they were Grýla’s children but Hilda casts them instead as her servants, sent out to do her bidding lest she devour them herself.

Continued below

3.) So We Might as Well Talk About Grýla

Like in the episode, the Yule Lads’ presence preëmpts Grýla’s arrival. “She ate lads fourteen through twenty-one,” one of them remarks.

Grýla appears as far back as the Prose Edda, a harbinger of winter. At some points, she was a beggar who asked parents to give her their children. She’s been married several times, notably to Leppalúði, and had a tendency to eat her husbands when she got bored with them. They lived in a cave on lava fields with the aforementioned Black Cat and Yule Lads, who were more akin to a deranged seven dwarves. It wasn’t until the 19th century they brought all these disparate elements together and folded them into the Nordic Christmas season.

For “The Yule Lads,” the animators maintain her hulking presence. She trudges through the forest, burst out from under a sheet of ice, growls and shuffles forward, unconcerned anything will bother her. Even trolls cower in Grýla’s presence. She’s given a hunchback, loaded down with empty cages tied to a worn sack. Most horrifying of all, the animators give her this mask cast in a dispassionate, uncaring expression. It’s cracked and shattered over her left eye, leaving this big ugly ball that sweeps over the area around her.

Krampus has nothing on Grýla.

4.) Hilda and the Moral Conundrum

Over its second season, the Hilda creators have dug deeper into the repercussions from Hilda’s spontaneity and recklessness. Both Johanna and Twig had had episode-long reactions to her behavior, while other characters frequently express dismay and exhaustion. We’ve seen her begin to confront those flaws in herself recently, but she finds herself thrown into an existential crisis in “The Yule Lads.”

As we’ve discussed, the Yule Lads are on the hunt for naughty children. In fact, their first question to Hilda, Frida, and David when they stumble upon their house at the end of a long alley is whether or not they’re naughty children. Frida and David are quick to say no, but Hilda has to pause and think for a second before going, “I wouldn’t say so.” Though we don’t know what the Yule Lads plan to do with the bad kids at this point, the question lingers over her, nags her, digs into her.

She broaches the subject to her mom, who assures her otherwise. She tosses and turns and reflects on it in bed, and, regardless of how people tell her that making mistakes and doing bad things don’t necessarily make them naughty, she worries she’s doomed. This humanistic idea is what Hilda finally comes to terms with by the end.

It’s not for nothing, either, that “The Yule Lads” provides one clear example of actual awfulness. Across from the Sparrow Scout booth sits the store of Trevor and his mother. Trevor, the cool, popular kid at Hilda’s school, who laughed her off two dozen episodes ago for being weird. Trevor, who acts out of malice and jealousy and petty vindictiveness. His mother, too, demonstrates prejudice and ill-gotten judgement, telling Trevor to stay clear of Hilda because she thinks Hilda’s a witch. It’s here Hilda points out real sources of malcontent. Hilda might worry she’s bad, but the prejudice and violence we see from Trevor and Trevor’s mom are our world’s true evils.

5.) Evolving Myths

We’ve also talked before about how Hilda is not afraid to reach for more horrific elements. Indeed, “The Yule Lads,” like the best season stories, is filled with instances of true terror and legitimate scares. A lot of it comes from Grýla as she lurches into town. But, like I mentioned earlier, the Yule Lads tilt shift into a more imposing, dangerous portrayal. Folktales, myths, and legends are wild. They might provide answers and entertainments, but they could just as easily pull the rug out from under you, too. The series has continually shown respect and adherence to the old stories, but I think where it excels is in how it helps these creatures adjust to the new world.

If you’ve been following, you’ll know none of this is a new observation. Still, the cleverness Stephanie Simpson, Luke Pearson, and Andy Coyle provide on a regular basis is worth pointing out. Hilda and her friends don’t vanquish Grýla, but appease her in a new, modern fashion. Namely, by giving her an alternate meal. (Or, you could argue, they unknowingly return to one of the oldest renditions of Grýla, where she could be sent away if people chased her off or gave her a bit of food.) No one gets devoured and the monster’s satisfied.

A consistent through-line of Hilda has been the idea that the old ways don’t have to be the only ways. You can still respect traditions and honor the past but without, you know, feeding people to the monster. We can recontextualize these stories and legends, we can keep them with us. Veggie broth has its own merits.


//TAGS | Hilda

Matthew Garcia

Matt hails from Colorado. He can be found on Twitter as @MattSG.

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