As a woman who has spent a significant portion of my life navigating a world that often seems to be carved out of glass ceilings and concrete walls, I found “The Girl with the Needle” to be a poignant and powerful film. The story of Karoline’s struggle for agency in a society that seemingly conspires against her resonates deeply, striking a chord that echoes through the ages.
Initially, it seems that the titular needle in Magnus von Horn’s grim, unsettling, yet captivating movie “The Girl with the Needle” is used by Karoline (Vic Carmen Sonne) for sewing soldier’s uniforms at a factory set during World War I. However, another needle appears, this one larger, which Karoline uses in an extreme situation – performing an abortion on herself. The film “The Girl with the Needle” is akin to layers of misery accumulating on Karoline like soil piled onto a grave. Any glimmer of hope is swiftly overshadowed by the grime and grit of a world that remains oblivious to her hardships.
In my opinion, if less skilled hands were guiding Karoline’s story through the murky waters of early 20th century chauvinism, it might become either a dull precursor to feminist tales or an overly dramatic display of heightened horror. However, von Horn has something much more significant planned. His film isn’t merely a dark narrative; it’s a compelling case — skillfully presented through DP Michal Dymek’s stark, black and white cinematography and remarkable performances — that society is inherently indifferent towards women, their bodies, and their decisions.
Despite being more than just an academic discourse, “The Girl with the Needle” is a challenging and captivating spectacle to witness. Von Horn’s masterful brushwork, combined with Agnieszka Glińska’s delicate editing and Frederikke Sophie Hoffmeier’s complex, layered score, creates an intense and unrelenting ambiance that immerses the viewer. In essence, this film is both difficult to endure yet stunningly beautiful; it carries a heavy, grim tone, but its compelling power is undeniable.
In Post-World War I Copenhagen, Hope Is Smothered in Darkness
In this grim, Dickensian setting, Carmen Sonne serves as both our protagonist and guide. She garnered notice for her role as the elder daughter in Hlynur Pálmason’s film, “Godland.” With an expressive countenance and a gait reminiscent of childhood, Sonne’s character is richly layered, revealing her vulnerability, innocence, and the hardships she faces due to societal constraints. However, when circumstances allow, she proves to be resilient.
Initially, Karoline, struggling financially, finds herself evicted from her modest apartment as she’s 14 weeks behind on rent payments. Her work as a seamstress barely sustains her, and her husband Peter (Besir Zeciri), who left to fight for the Allies, hasn’t been in contact for a year. Since there’s no death certificate, Karoline is unable to receive widow’s benefits as an additional income source.
In the script they co-wrote, Von Horn frequently offers a spark of hope to Karoline, only for it to vanish almost immediately, each time pushing Karoline further into despair. After she moves into a revolting new apartment and discovers a bucket in the center of her living room serving as a toilet, Karoline develops a friendship with Jørgen (played by Joachim Fjelstrup), her wealthy and attractive boss. Their intimate moments, like many aspects of this bleak world, are tainted; they have sex in a grim alley while passersby continue their carefree strolls. However, this leads to a potential proposal of marriage.
During one of the few delightful scenes in the movie, Karoline seems to glide throughout Jørgen’s magnificent estate, reveling in the realization that such opulence now belongs to her as well. Yet, when Jørgen’s mother (Benedikte Hansen) disapproves of him marrying a penniless seamstress, Karoline is left deserted, destitute, and pregnant with Jørgen’s child.
A Tense Drama That’s Grimmer Than a Grimms’ Fairy Tale
In von Horn’s film titled “The Girl with the Needle,” instead of being called Karoline, suggests that she is a character who is overlooked and unimportant. The only genuine respect she receives comes unexpectedly from Peter, whose face has been severely disfigured in war and wears a mask to hide his injury. In von Horn’s interpretation, the men in this story are not as they first appear. The attractive Jørgen, who seems desirable, is actually a weak-willed slave to his family’s wealth, while the now impotent Peter, with his grotesquely deformed face, finds work only in a circus. However, Peter represents a distorted form of stability, which might be the only kind of stability available for Karoline.
The movie starts off with a chilling sequence of faces expressing distress, transforming into each other, which creates such a convincing atmosphere of slightly exaggerated reality, given its Grimm’s fairy tale-like setting and tangible sense of location, that it comes as quite a surprise to learn it’s based on real events. Without giving away too much information, it can be stated that Karoline’s desperate attempt to terminate her pregnancy using a knitting needle in a public bathhouse is interrupted by an enigmatic woman named Dagmar (the talented Danish actress, Trine Dyrholm). Posing as a candy store owner, Dagmar runs an underground adoption agency and manages to persuade Karoline to give up her child, disregarding Peter’s selfless proposal to raise the baby himself.
A Film that Seamlessly Combines Horror, Drama, and Tragedy
In this movie, director von Horn wisely chooses to keep Dagmar, who is well-known in Danish history, more as a side character rather than the main focus. By doing so, it intensifies our interest in Karoline’s story and reinforces von Horn’s themes about female oppression and how it perpetuates in society. The friendship between them starts when Karoline moves into Dagmar’s home to be a wet nurse, suggesting that this seemingly kind confectionery shop owner is not just a sweet seller but may harbor hidden darkness. Actress Dyrholm skillfully keeps us guessing and rooting for the best, even as we anticipate the worst according to von Horn’s style.
In a nod to historical accuracy and our hope that Karoline might have a chance to make an unregrettable decision, “The Girl with the Needle” – Denmark’s entry for the Best International Feature Film Academy Award – culminates in such a manner. Regrettably, the society that facilitated Karoline’s suffering persists today, as evident in Poland, where von Horn resides with his family. Not long ago, Poland enacted some of Europe’s strictest abortion laws.
Regarding Karoline, she’s been through a lot, but she hasn’t grown so callous that she can’t identify and accept love and kindness when it arrives. Peter, who remains steadfast in his affection for Karoline, might have barely made it through the horrors of World War I, but Karoline has faced similar struggles. These struggles are so profound that we’re still working to fully emerge from them.
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2024-12-06 00:33