‘The world is a horrible place. But we need to believe it’s not so...’
I used to roll my eyes at all encompassing, sweeping statements such as this, but you don’t really understand the evil that men (or women do) until you have a child of your own. When I look at my 11-month-old daughter, the concept of someone deliberately hurting a child seems so alien, so evil, that it causes me almost physical pain. Loosely based on the true story of Danish serial killer Dagmar Overbye (look it up if you feel like having a good cry), The Girl with the Needle explores the mundanity of evil, and how it is allowed to thrive…
In post WWI Copenhagen, Karoline (Vic Carmen Sonne) is handed a job as a wet nurse for a secretive adoption agency for disadvantaged mothers. Dagmar (Trine Dyrholm), the woman who runs the operation, initially seems benevolent, but the longer Karoline spends with her, the more she begins to suspect something isn’t right.
Shot in unflinching black and white and with an ominous, droning score, The Girl with the Needle is a bleak and visceral howl of anguish. The opening scene in which a clearly impoverished Karoline is denied widow’s compensation because her long-missing husband is yet to show up dead sets the tone, and things just become more grim and desolate from there. The occasional moments of hope and humanity only serve to make the surrounding darkness even more obsidian, serving as a reminder that while happiness and joy do exist in the world, they don’t exist for everyone. All of this is underpinned by a haunting and powerful performance from Sonne in the main role, encompassing both despair and determination in equal measure.
The Girl with the Needle is a difficult watch that contains some of the most upsetting onscreen moments I’ve ever seen, but it is also incredible cinema – essential filmmaking.