Written by Dilan Fernando

Magnus Von Horn’s The Girl with the Needle opens with a montage of overlaid faces with their mouths open – screaming, roaring, melding into one another. The influence of Tod Browning’s films are apparent from the opening titles, illustrating the dark brooding atmosphere and the desperation of characters hoping to find their place within it by gaining some control over their lives. Their souls torn by anguish, guilt, regret and shame cry out for a compassionate hand to provide some care. The film is set in the months leading up to the conclusion of The Great War (WWI); Karoline (pronounced Ka-Ro-Leen) a seamstress prepares for work, washing herself in a small basin, one of the few moments she has control. She lives alone acclimatizing herself to a way of life many women have been subjected to during the early 20th century, when their husbands go off to war leaving them to care for children and tend to the household. The film has been said to share similarities with Sean Baker’s Anora, however, the structure and trajectory of the film is derived and is dependent on Karoline which makes it more in the vein of Fassbinder’s The Marriage of Maria Braun.

There are a series of disparaging problems that plague Karoline. Her husband hasn’t returned any of her letters and she presumes he’s died in the war. She’s evicted by her landlord for failure to pay rent who gives the new tenants (a mother and daughter) a tour as Karoline watches from afar. She’s denied a widow’s compensation-death benefit as she is unable to provide her husband’s death certificate. Amidst all this calamity, finds its way into Karoline’s life. She finds a small attic loft to live in owned by an elderly woman, the sympathetic owner of the linen factory (Joachim Fjelstrup) where she works takes a liking to her and offers to help her remarking that “... husbands just don’t disappear.” The cut to a shot of s faucet dripping into a water basin is the most powerful shot of the film and emphasizes the cryptic essence present throughout the film. It layers the emotional turmoil, dramatic irony, and dark interiors within the characters contrary to the barren, bombed-out, crumbling atmosphere the film is set in, similar to the landscapes in Andrzej Wajda’s films.

*The Girl with the Needle* implements a series of artistic choices to convey the harrowing story unfolding before your very eyes.

Jorgen and Karoline’s affair blossoms, Karoline is expecting a child, the war ends, and one day after work a mysterious figure awaits for Karoline outside the factory. The figure appears to be her husband Peter (Besir Zeciri), having returned from the war, ready to reunite with his wife. She pushes him away, knocking off his glasses and chin guard. He composes himself and the pair return to Karoline’s attic loft, she feeds him and lets him sleep on the floor all the while he stays with her. Will she ever truly accept him? Or, is that something couples reaffirm to each other in the moment when they marry?

Karoline is invited to meet Jorgen’s mother at his family’s estate where he resides. Little does Karoline know that her presence there is to garner an impression. After some wry introductory greetings from Jorgen’s mother – The Baroness (Benedikte Hansen), she directs Karoline into the dining room. Awaiting at a table is a doctor and a black leather bag, Jorgen’s mother insists Karoline to lay down on the table so the doctor can determine how far along in her pregnancy she is, Jorgen awaits outside.Karoline and the audience are left with a cold, sterile, and shivering feeling all throughout the sequence. Here the sound design is used to great effect as natural sounds overcome the room, blending malevolence and benevolence. The Baroness emphasizes her son will never marry Karoline, she’s shown out and is subsequently fired from her position at the factory.

Once again, Karoline is on her own and burdened by the reminder of Jorgen goes to a bath house to alleviate her stress. In a bathtub she takes a needle and begins to insert it before passing out from the pain and loss of blood. A fellow patron of the bathhouse, a middle-aged woman with a young child saves Karoline from drowning and assists her in getting dressed. The middle-aged woman is named Dagmar Overby (Trine Dyrholm) and gives Karoline a bag of sweets and tells her to visit her shop when the unwanted child is born so she may find a place for it. Dagmar emphasizes that the child should not be given a name as it makes getting rid of it more difficult. Karoline begins to look for work and one day stumbles across the poster for a traveling circus with a drawing of her husband.

At the circus, the carnival barker prepares the audience as the main act walks on-stage, dressed in his army uniform, removing his glasses and chin guard, Karoline looks “... into the face of pain” as the barker describes, seeing her husband for the first time in a long time. Of all the people in the audience she is the only one who volunteers to touch the disfigured face, which leads to a brief momentous kiss. The couple returns home and while sleeping Karoline is awoken by the screaming terrors of her husband’s traumatic wartime experiences. She initially tries to settle his anguish and realizes her attempts are futile, and lets him vent his pain.

*The Girl with the Needle* is a thorough look at anguish told via an artistically-inclined gaze, with apathy’s grasp felt throughout.

While working as a daily labourer for a potato harvester, Karoline goes into labour. She returns home with her newborn child and is greeted by her husband who doesn’t care that it’s not his biological child. There’s a look on Karoline’s face as he nestles the child closely with his chin guard and his glasses off. The symbolic exchange of the veils of evils that rule their lives, determine that Karoline’s child will never have a real family as she envisions it. One morning, when her husband goes to fetch a bassinet, Karoline uproots with the child and goes to Dagmar’s shop, the husband’s reaction to the child having gone missing is never shown.

At Dagmar’s home Karoline is greeted by a brutish looking man, Dagmar asks her in and takes the child away. Karoline manages to find a place for herself, working in Dagmar’s sweet shop and nursing Dagmar’s child, Erena (Ava Knox Martin) who appears to have outgrown breastfeeding quite some time ago. Karoline sleeps in the shop and watches as the carousel of single mothers bring their children and a small sum to be put up for adoption. Dagmar reaffirms to each of them, “You’ve done the right thing.” for their sacrifice. As Karoline cares for the child awaiting its adoption, Dagmar’s daughter grows restless with jealousy and tries to kill the child by suffocating it. Dagmar reaffirms to each of them, “You’ve done the right thing.” for their sacrifice and eases Karoline by giving her droplets of ether.

The tension increases as Karoline thinks it’s peculiar that Dagmar is able to find families to adopt these discarded children. However, when she thinks of it everyday that Dagmar leaves with her baby carriage it returns empty, a reference to Victor Sjöström’s film The Phantom Carriage (1921). As part of her daily routine of delivering discarded children to new families Dagmar leaves with the carriage, as Karoline shadows from afar. The entire sequence is shot in a wide POV through Karoline’s eyes showing the insignificance and harshness of the world. Dagmar stops the carriage in a desolate alleyway and struggles with something in her hands. Karoline peers around the corner in horror, a child’s cries fade out over the soundtrack.

Dilan Fernando graduated with a degree in Communications from Brock University. ”Written sentiments are more poetic than spoken word. Film will always preserve more than digital could ever. Only after a great film experience can one begin to see all that life has to offer.“