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"Inspired by true events." Four words that will knock the wind out of your lungs as the film fades to black.

In the dirt and smog of 1919 Copenhagen emerges this atmospheric, haunting portrait of one woman's descent into the grim reality of impoverished motherhood.

In the age of short attention spans that are worringly shortening, von Horn's dark film may be a little slow for the average modern movie goer. But for those who can engage with it, what awaits is a black and white cinematic feast with imagery reminiscent of silent movies that is both a treat for the eyes and a dagger to the heart.

I didn't know what the story was about, so everything was a surprise to me. There are some shocking scenes that at first that made me dislike this movie a lot. But at the end, and when I realized it was based on a true story, it made me reflect on human nature, who the real monsters are, how our lives are impacted depending on our social economical situation and how there are good people even when we judge them at first by their appearance or their small bad behaviors. It is a movie that makes you reflect, and it will stick to your mind for some time, I believe. It is worth a try, I would not indicate it to everyone, some people will think it is unbearable to watch.

When rating watched movies, i always feel like there's something could be done differently or better, so even for "very good" movies i give 9 star.

This is my first 10 star rating. It's a perfect movie.

It's quite difficult to describe it as the whole movie has so many layers. It was emotionally on the edge and nervewrecking, very painful to watch. Even when you start to see the faint ray of hope, it soon vanishes brutally. But that's how the life was after the WW1. Povetry and broken people.

It was also visually gorgeous, eventhough there's nothing gorgeous in that movie.

Highly recommended, but not for snowflakes.

"The Girl with the Needle" doesn't ask for permission to make you uncomfortable. It barges in with a heavy, suffocating atmosphere, dragging out a cruel reality that, despite being set in the early 20th century, feels eerily relevant today. Magnus von Horn directs with surgical precision, avoiding cheap sentimentality but still maintaining a deeply human perspective on his protagonists. The result is an intense drama that carries the weight of the world in every frame-making it almost impossible to forget.

Focusing the story on Karoline, played with raw vulnerability by Vic Carmen Sonne, is one of the film's smartest choices. Instead of zooming in directly on the infamous serial killer Dagmar Overbye, who terrorized Denmark in the aftermath of World War I, the movie follows the journey of this young woman who, with no options left, is pushed into an abyss of despair. Karoline is the embodiment of a brutal reality-a society that turns its back on poor women, judges without offering alternatives, and turns victims into accomplices in their own tragedies. Sonne delivers a hypnotic performance, full of nuances, letting her hopelessness seep through small gestures and silences that say more than any dialogue ever could.

Von Horn builds the film with a heavy, claustrophobic visual style. Michael Dymek's cinematography is hauntingly beautiful, with a color palette that reinforces the oppressive atmosphere. Cold tones and heavy shadows dominate the screen, creating a constant sense of danger even in the most mundane scenes. The feeling of suffocation is relentless, with the camera often framing Karoline in ways that emphasize her vulnerability-whether in cramped rooms or the dark streets of a city that seems completely indifferent to her existence. The soundtrack is another key element in shaping this mood. The experimental sound design, filled with unsettling noises and an eerie electronic score that echoes Karoline's racing heartbeat, never lets the audience feel at ease.

The film's pacing is deliberately slow, almost as if it wants to trap the audience in Karoline's despair. Scenes unfold gradually, making sure that every bad decision, every door slammed in her face, is felt with full impact. The introduction of Dagmar Overbye, played with an overwhelming presence by Trine Dyrholm, adds an extra layer of tension. Dyrholm's Dagmar is cold but never cartoonish. She doesn't need dramatic outbursts to convey the threat she poses. It's a restrained performance that creeps up on you, slowly revealing a figure that's almost hypnotic in her quiet cruelty. The film doesn't try to humanize her to the point of excusing her crimes, but it does suggest that the social conditions of the time were the perfect breeding ground for people like her-and that suggestion is what makes it all the more unsettling.

That said, "The Girl with the Needle" is not an easy watch. Its relentless atmosphere can be exhausting, and the complete lack of breathing room amidst so much misery makes the experience almost unbearable at times. Von Horn offers no relief, not even in small doses, which might alienate viewers looking for some kind of catharsis or hope. But maybe that's the whole point-there's no room for romanticizing when the central theme is the systematic abandonment of vulnerable women. The film's brutality doesn't just lie in Dagmar's actions but in its depiction of a society that willingly ignores the problems it creates.

There's something deeply unsettling about the way the film works with its visual metaphors. The images of disfigured faces, the play of light and shadow distorting Karoline's expression as her situation worsens-it all builds a sense that, in some way, every character is scarred, physically or emotionally, by the cruelty of life. The war scars of Jorgen (Joachim Fjelstrup), the lover who abandons her, serve as a literal reflection of the invisible wounds carried by women like Karoline.

In the end, "The Girl with the Needle" is not an easy film to digest, but it's precisely this harshness that makes it so powerful. It's a work that fearlessly dives into the dark, unsettling depths of its story-no compromises, no redemptive endings. Von Horn delivers a film that disturbs and provokes, forcing the audience to confront uncomfortable truths about inequality, abandonment, and the never-ending vulnerability of women in extreme poverty. A film that, much like the needle in the title, pierces through the skin and keeps throbbing long after it's over.

It's the last days of The Great War and Karoline is barely eking out an existence working in a factory. She believes herself to be a widow as her husband disappeared during the war (even though Denmark didn't really participate), but is not getting the benefits for widows because he has not been listed as dead.

A lot happens during the movie and I don't want to go into spoilers, so I won't go deeper into the plot except that the marketing is emphasizing something that is not as big a part in the movie as someone might expect.

While that does get a lot of attention in the latter half of the movie, to me the real value of the movie is the feeling of reality around Karoline's story. When was the last time someone in a movie was trying to convince a potential tenant to take up an apartment by telling them that they can get running water for two whole hours a day (from ten to noon, which might not be much of a selling point as most people would be working during those hours)? When was the rampant drug use of the era portrayed so candidly? Even what Dagmar is doing was relatively commonplace back in the day, although I would hazard a guess the trend was downward at this point in time and it wasn't happening as much as it had before.

I actually might have enjoyed the movie more if the marketing was different and Dagmar wasn't brought up, because it created expectations. While Dagmar is a major character, the movie is clearly about Karoline and her hardships. On the other hand, it is hard to say how I would have felt seeing the name Dagmar Overby on a door if I hadn't known beforehand that this real life person was used in the movie. (It should be noted that the movie is inspired by real life events rather than based on, so they are trying to maintain a certain distance to the real Dagmar).

I do feel some part of the audience will find it hard to symphathize with Karoline, as she does sometimes seem to make the right decision just a little too late. At the same time, there isn't that much time or opportunity for ethics when you are just trying to survive in a world where the odds have been stacked against you. On the other hand, while we know the hope she is given would be for nothing in this world, we still understand why she gives into it.

I like the look of the film. It's black and white and the whole city seems to be decrepit and barely holding up. It reminds us of the lack of interest in the well-being of or even disdain for the working poor. Have things really changed that much? The time being depicted happened over a century ago, but the concept of female bodily autonomy is under constant assault again.

Of course, all art is in some way a mirror of the time it was made, but it just seems easier to see the similarities here.