Lamb, the Icelandic film directed by Valdimar Jóhannsson (rather incredibly making his feature directorial debut) and starring Noomi Rapace, takes viewers on a journey. It’s a dark fairy tale that draws from Icelandic folklore while crafting wholly original themes and ideas. It’s not a horror film, but horror fans will appreciate the places Jóhannsson and his supremely talented cast and crew are willing to go, as will anyone who appreciates film.

Lamb centers on Maria (Rapace) and Ingvar (Hilmir Snær Guðnason), a couple of farmers living in a gorgeously remote Iceland captured stunningly by cinematographer Eli Arenson. Their lives are pretty drab, spent tending to sheep (including a live, in camera delivery) and working the land. There are subtle moments that add hints of tragedy to their history, such as when Ingvar brings up the possibility of time travel and Maria remarks that this means one could go back into the past.

One day, something miraculous happens: an unusual lamb is born…although we don’t learn what makes her so unique for several scenes thanks to Johannsson’s careful framing and visuals. Maria and Ingvar finally have some actual life in their lives thanks to “Ada,” although the arrival of Ingvar’s ne'er-do-well brother Pétur (a scene stealing Björn Hlynur Haraldsson) complicates matters. There are also subtle, ominous hints that danger may be lurking for our characters.

I won’t give away more for fear of spoiling, but Lamb is much more than an admittedly original premise and script (co-written with poet and screenwriter Sjón). It’s a beautiful, artistic movie, with vividly drawn characters and many potential meanings and themes, notably trauma and grief. The three leads have a combustible chemistry, and we absolutely believe that they share years of history. This is best evidenced by my favorite sequence in the movie, when the trio and “Ada” watch a sports game together. There’s a shot of their faces watching the match that should inspire any actor, and the entire scene has a dynamic and unpredictable energy.

Pétur is a particularly fascinating figure, a man with hidden depths beyond what he first suggests. His interactions with Maria are some of the most intriguing moments in the movie. Rapace is nothing short of transcendent; her character grapples with a multitude of thoughts and feelings as the movie progresses, most of which are conveyed wordlessly. One particularly bravura moment of non-verbal acting allows you to see intense emotions in Maria’s face and body without her saying a single word. The audience is invited to draw their own conclusions about what she’s feeling, and that’s true of the movie as a whole. Jóhannsson and Sjón respect our intelligence and reward our attention.

Lamb is a gorgeous, haunting piece of work that lingers in the mind.