La chica de la aguja

"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.

Swedish director Magnus von Horn demonstrates his mastery when it comes to creating a disturbing and controversial film that is even more impactful because it is based on real events.

It's engaging, but it will also turn off quite a few.

With its more than deserved nomination for best international film, this Danish film that takes us to post-war Denmark hides a disturbing story accompanied by a direction without caution by Magnus von Horn , who in each shot, in each frame and in each decision takes us towards a sinister door from which it is difficult to recover once we understand the whole path hidden in this wonderful script. With a black and white staging that accentuates much more the dark side of a humanity that does not know of time, but of evil, which is magnified by some secondary characters that surround our protagonist in the most bizarre and distressing that one can appreciate.

It's a movie that, if you accept the challenge, will grab you and make you live a corrupted experience with a brutal story that leaves nothing to be desired but to question how timeless a story like this can be, but if you're not willing to take on that challenge, it's a movie that will make you have a bad time every time.

A protagonist who provides a light.

Victoria Carmen Sonne's performance is the key to keeping us determined to follow this story. The actress takes all the recognition in her interpretation of a character who has suffered, beaten down and forgotten in every sense. A character that captivates you and despite all the evil that surrounds her, it is a sigh of light that the Danish actress delivers on screen. We can also add a supporting character like Trine Dyrholm who also steals all her moments with a sinister character who really manages to cause fear between the bizarreness of her behavior and her madness.

Mature cinema.

A mature film that is not afraid to be controversial in form and content and that, with a direction that follows the same path, leaves the feeling that it is a film that has a lot to tell and a lot to exploit in terms of its reception by the viewer. Its director consolidates himself as a director of weight and daring, which makes it more interesting than it already was.

Conclusion.

One of the best international films of the year, without a doubt, Danish cinema once again demonstrates the narrative strength it has and a director who once again positions his name as one to always follow. A sinister proposal that leaves you disturbed when you discover its twists and its real intentions, a film for the brave.

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.

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.

"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.