Peppery, smoky and cool-toned, with dark fruit held tight. It tastes of turf-house hearths and the hard Icelandic winter Agnes waits out in Burial Rites.
Alpine, austere and pale-edged, with brittle tannin and a haunting finish. It suits a story that offers no easy comfort.
In 1829 Iceland, a condemned woman awaits execution in a farmhouse, her story slowly emerging. Stark landscapes and cold dread give way to unexpected tenderness.
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