A Garota da Agulha

"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.

Yes, it is a little slow in its pace and one needs to get used to the rhythm of the film. That said, it is probably watched without any distractions in the cinema, not at home with a smartphone nearby.

The movie itself is a strong remnider of how rigid and cruel social norms and legislation can be. What I really liked was the ambivalence of the characters portrayed. The evil in the world didn't stem from some fetishised indidivual background, but from the power of capital - after all, it is the material inequality, displayed by the true villain of this movie, the mother of the rich fabric owner, which lays the ground for individuial cruel action. A more equal society would have not give birth to needs such as killing the offsprings of the poor and forgotten.

Magnus Von Horn's powerful film inspired by true events, beautifully composed in black and white. This Danish-Polish-Swedish co-produced film demonstrate aesthetics definitely from couple of possibly sources from German expressionist to film noir genres.

The story surrounds a young woman, Karoline (played by Victoria Carmen Sonne) who begins a new life in the city, coming from the surges of the World War era or "Great War". Her husband was considered a war casualty thus begins a new romance leading to a unexpected pregnancy.

Not winning approval of the relationship with her wealthy lover's family, she in unknown depression figures to do away with the unborn. She befriends Dagmar (played by Trine Dryholm) and her daughter Erena, decides to continue to birthing a child for "adoption" option.

This storyline with plot twists and tropes goes into complete darkness with murders, drug addition and human trafficking. It was inspired by 1921 serial killer, Dagmar Over by who murdered numerous infants. This film show try show, in some troublesome way in humanizing these crimes, letting the viewer debate on the killer's motivation.

Brilliantly directed with top-tier performances by both Von Somme and Dryholm along with exceptional soundtrack, to create emotional and anticipation tension. It's monochromatic visual are such sights to view the gritty aspects of urban 1920s life, some much dramatic.

Its visceral richness, presents an insight even to subcultures developing at the time from circuses and their side show, showing the "freaks" of nature. It challenges the intimacy of motherhood, somehow showing it underbelly of darkness.

Van Horn's handling of actual event information into a fictional account is truly astonishing, great detail paid to the era's tradition and domestic customs. This film is being marketed as a psychological horror film but it's more of an emotional portrait of human conflict, sparked by a gender political discourse.

"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.

This movie has some of the scariest scenes I've seen in any film this year, even compared to the best horror movies of 2024. The first act feels like a darker, more chilling version of Anora. It starts with themes of survival and desperation, as a working-class woman in post-WWI Copenhagen finds an opportunity to change her social class. But the story evolves into something much deeper, diving into ethical dilemmas around motherhood, sacrifice, and the difficult choices women face when their options are limited.

And yet, there's even more to unpack in this stunningly shot, expertly crafted period drama. It's about moral ambiguity, isolation, loneliness, societal stigmas, female agency, power dynamics, and the lingering impact of war. The only thing holding it back for me is how heavy-handed it gets with the subject of abortion, especially in the final speech, which felt a bit out of place.

It hit me hard with bricks of sadness and empathy for the main character, thanks to Vic Carmen Sonne's incredible performance as the lead. Every other actor is equally impressive. The black-and-white cinematography is breathtaking, the music is hypnotic, and the overall production is top-notch. With all its dark and heavy themes, this movie is an absolute blast to watch. Highly recommended!