The Girl with the Needle: Denmark’s Oscars entry is a masterpiece of atmosphere
Denmark’s official submission for ‘Best International Feature Film’ at the 97th Academy Awards, Magnus von Horn’s The Girl with the Needle is a feat of cinema with a shocking true story at its core.
Warning: This article contains spoilers from The Girl with the Needle.
The Girl with the Needle has all the tenets of an early 1900s horror film. In parts, it reminded me of the first adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. It was also reminiscent of Luis Buñuel’s work, a pioneering filmmaker known for his surrealist style and social critique. I did a module on Spanish film in college and remember being particularly disturbed by a scene in Un Chien Andalou where a woman’s eye is slashed by a razor. Close-ups of the eye were a Buñuel trademark – a motif von Horn also repeats here.
Despite being set in post-WWI Denmark, filming for The Girl with the Needle largely took place in Poland, with a few additional scenes shot in Sweden. Presented in black and white with a 3:2 aspect ratio (as is typical of the genre), it’s a visually stunning project. Every single frame could be a painting, and cinematographer Michal Dymek’s use of light is exceptional. I paused the film more than once so as to fully appreciate the composition, framing, shadows and contrast.
I’ll be honest though; I was not looking forward to watching this film. I briefly Googled the title when asked if I wanted to review it and upon seeing it had already garnered significant attention, I agreed. It was only when I had been sent the screener and started looking more into the story that I realised what I had gotten myself into. Centring on the infamous story of Danish serial killer Dagmar Overbye, a woman believed to have murdered up to 26 babies, it’s quite a tough watch, to say the least. There’s also a scene in which the central protagonist tries to give herself an abortion with a needle, thereby earning herself the moniker ‘the girl with the needle’.
Loosely based on true events the plot centres on a woman named Karoline. Believing her husband to have been killed in battle, she has an affair with the wealthy owner of the textile factory in which she works. However, despite promising to marry her, she soon finds herself evicted, unemployed and pregnant. Karoline’s husband, later returns, deformed by injuries borne at war and adding a whole other layer to the story.
Told it’s too late for it to be ‘taken care of’ by a doctor, she desperately tries to deal with the situation herself – attempting to give herself an abortion with a needle at a public bathhouse. There she meets Dagmar Overbye, a woman who owns a sweet shop which serves as a front for a clandestine adoption agency. She offers to take on unwanted babies for a fee, telling mothers their children will be given to good families; people who “can afford to do good”. Instead, she murders them.
Intrigued by this mysterious older woman she believes to be helping disadvantaged mothers like herself, Karoline grows closer to Dagmar. But their relationship is one of twisted co-dependency, buoyed along by regular drug use. In the end, Karoline discovers the awful truth and Dagmar is eventually arrested for her crimes. It’s not shown in the film but after the real Overbye was incarcerated, Denmark introduced a register of babies born in the country as part of broader reforms in the adoption and child welfare systems. This registry aimed to prevent such abuses from happening again.
As Time notes in their analysis of the film, the screenplay encourages audiences to “see the parallels between the impoverished Karoline and Overbye who hustles for a living, even if that means committing unthinkable crimes.” The cinematic Dagmar is unnervingly human. That’s not to say her actions are not morally reprehensible, but The Girl with the Needle paints a bigger picture. “What she did says so much about society surrounding her at the time,” von Horn told Time. “She didn’t kidnap babies to kill them. Women came to her and gave her babies. We wanted to try to tap into that world.”
It’s not a leap to say this film also calls to mind The Zone of Interest, directed by Jonathan Glazer. Winner of two Academy Awards, it’s set 24 years later to the backdrop of WWII, but like The Girl with the Needle, sound is intrinsic to its success. Both are masterclasses in evoking atmosphere; in the latter film, von Horn collaborated with sound designer Oskar Skriver to create a visceral auditory landscape that matches the unsettling nature of this tale. Muffled cries, jagged breathing, and grotesque chewing sounds all serve to elevate the horror, while the score by Frederikke Hoffmeier is the perfect accompaniment to some of the film’s most terrifying moments.
Yes, The Girl with the Needle is harrowing and eerie and incredibly dark, but it’s also strangely beautiful, too; a sort of nightmarish fairytale. It’s an unflinching look at the reality of the times, and von Horn causes us to question everything from morality to bodily autonomy to the exploitation of the vulnerable. I’m as surprised as you to say that I actually kind of enjoyed it. That’s a strange statement to write about a film of this nature, but it’s a compelling narrative, expertly told, and you just can’t argue with the aesthetic beauty. It may not have won the Oscar, but it’s well worth a watch.
You can watch the trailer below.
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