Severed Ways - a moviegoing experience steeped in history, the beauty of nature, and man's instincts for survival as he embraces a brave new world, not to mention some really cool Viking lore.

More or less what you'd have if Ingmar Bergman had shot The Blair Witch Project...

Severed Ways exudes a specific and unique vibe, and youre either going to get into it or youre not...If youre willing to just stop, look and listen, you might have a good time.

Stone's admirable and persuasive evocation is unfortunately marred by his self-defeating resort to flurries of claustrophobic, fragmented hand-held shots that obfuscate just about every crucial plot development in the film.

One of the more beautifully shot films of the year...so long as the camera is standing still.

That director Tony Stone concocted and nearly pulls off this gruff, truly indie flick, maintaining our interest -- mostly -- through slow, wordless curio makes him a director to watch.

A must-see.

Captivating locations can't overcome deplorable scenes of defecation and actually killing a hen onscreen. This is so slow and lacking in pace it tries one's patience.

Gorgeous cinematography of fabulous wilderness landscape cannot compensate for the self-indulgence and viewer-alienating technique of a clueless rookie director/writer/actor.

A pretentious, tedious, jarring and grueling test of a viewer's patience.

Severed Ways is one of the oddest movies I've seen in a while -- and that's a good thing.

If nothing else, Mr. Stone, from his tangled hair to dirty feet, has taken himself and his story into the beyond -- way, way beyond.

Largely lacking in dialogue (if not unintentional hilarity), this intensely personal project is proof positive that Bill and Ted grew up to become filmmakers.

The spectacle of two dudes mucking about in the primal forest becomes tedious...

Seems more informed by low-budget History Channel programs and the proto-metal Norse lore of Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song."

Minimalist independent cinema doesn't get much more low fidelity than debut writer/director Tony Stone's garish vision of 11th century Vikings discovering North America.

If all Vikings acted like the two principals in this glacial-paced film, Valhalla must be an empty, desolate place.

Minimalist retro-dialogue in Old Norse, a closeup of human defecation in real time, choked chickens for dinner, and man rape of a dumb blonde macho Viking dragged off by a native woman warrior in heat to her tepee where she, well, makes him her squaw.

If only Stone's elliptical storytelling style were as lucid as his eye for the environment.