The Girl with the Needle, 2024.

Directed by Magnus von Horn
Starring Vic Carmen Sonne, Trine Dyrholm, Besir Zeciri, Ari Alexander, Per Thiim Thim, Joachim Fjelstrup, Ava Knox Martin

SYNOPSIS:

Copenhagen 1919: A young worker finds herself unemployed and pregnant. She meets Dagmar, who runs an underground adoption agency. A strong connection grows but her world shatters when she stumbles on the shocking truth behind her work.

A fairytale retelling of one of Denmark’s most shocking crime cases, The Girl with the Needle blends dreamlike expressionism with an earthly realism that conveys emotional intensity at its most raw.

The film traces the terrible experiences of Karoline (a fantastic Vic Carmen Sonne), an unemployed, single, pregnant woman in post-World War One Denmark. Her husband went missing during the war and she has had no word. With her emotional and mental fragility already stretched to the point of breaking, she finds herself without a job. An unhappy tryst with a manipulative and emotionally immature man leaves her pregnant with no support and little hope of improving her situation.

Into this bleak environment steps a beacon of hope in the shape of Dagmar (Trine Dyrholm), a charming woman who organises an underground adoption agency that helps mothers in trouble find foster homes for children who are either unwanted or unable to be taken care of.

Karoline and Dagmar form a strong bond, and the young mother takes on the role as a wet-nurse at the agency. However, all is not what it seems. Beneath her charismatic veneer, Dagmar holds a horrifying secret. When Karoline stumbles upon this secret, her entire world, and that of Copenhagen society as a whole, is completely turned upside down.

Things are complicated even further when a disfigured man claiming to be Karoline’s lost husband shows up on the streets looking for his wife.

This element delves deep into the stylistic inspiration for the look of this gripping and grim tale. The soldier has had half of his face destroyed and has been given a mask to wear that conjures up ideas of opera phantoms and classical villains. As it is, the man is kind and considerate, in stark contrast to the handsome rich young character whom Karoline had a brief dalliance with.  The wounded soldier is forced to join a travelling circus as a living exhibit, and Karoline out of sheer desperation takes a needle to herself in a public bathhouse in attempted termination.

It is here that she meets Dagmar and from there, the story becomes even more horrible. Based on a true story and embellished with nightmarish but wholly believable touches, The Girl With the Needle is an immersive and uncomfortable viewing experience. Scenes are artistically framed, and the whole production is touched with morbid curiosity and fear-fueled adrenaline. Both leads are excellent in their respective roles with the fictionalised character of Karoline given personality and furious life by Carmen Sonne.

The backstory of the true character of Dagmar is necessarily kept out of the script, meaning that Dyrholm must subtly bring out the ambiguities and strangeness of her spirit in subtle and skilled ways. She succeeds brilliantly, and thanks to it, the film takes on a haunting and monstrous quality that lingers on long after the credits roll.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★

Robert W Monk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist

Picking up right where the first film ends, Culpa Tuya pushes Nick and Noah deeper into infatuation, while their parents, William and Rafaella, attempt to drive a wedge between the step-siblings. Enter Sofia—a seductive and ‘more suitable’ match for Nick—and the tension escalates as Noah struggles with the emotional toll of his long-distance relationship. But the drama doesn’t stop here: lingering personal trauma and vengeful figures from their past add further strain to the couple’s bond.

Despite its label as a young adult romantic drama, the Culpa series seems to grapple with genre identity. Where Culpa Mia leaned into erotic territory, this sequel’s intimate scenes feel less organic, much like Noah’s tenuous relationship with her university counsellor, Michael. The thriller elements, teased in the first film through Noah’s menacing father, expand in the sequel with the arrival of Nick’s obsessive ex-girlfriend and estranged biological mother. Yet, the film never fully commits to any of these genres, opting instead to flirt with each one without anchoring itself in any. Perhaps, in embodying the unpredictability of Gen Z relationships—where infidelity feels almost inevitable—it stays truest to its young adult roots.

With interesting subplots and conflicts being created from all ends, Culpa Tuya errs a little too much on the side of caution. At the end, it still only manages to do what all other romantic dramas do, which is throw a spanner into a smooth-sailing relationship. The lead pair keep doubting each other while fighting their own demons, but not once do they try to understand their respective trauma. The continued use of ‘baby sister’ as a pet name from Nick—despite their long-term relationship—feels uncomfortably cringe. 

Culpable for its predictability, the film still manages to shine through from time to time. A surprising revelation and an unresolved ending set the stage for a potentially more refined and gripping third instalment, expected in 2025. However, rekindling the chemistry between the leads is essential, as their dynamic feels notably less intense here than in the first film. Despite its flaws, Culpa Tuya remains an irresistible guilty pleasure. Sometimes, the fun of watching a film also comprises finding fault with it—and that’s perfectly all right.

Rex Reed’s scalpel was particularly sharp in 2024, slicing through 43 films with the kind of ruthless precision only he can wield. This was the year he likened Mean Girls to “cinematic Covid,” torched Longlegs as a “dumpster fire,” and suggested that Cash Out had John Travolta so lost, “somebody stage an intervention.” For those seeking unfiltered truths about Hollywood’s latest offerings, Reed delivered—though not without a handful of pleasant surprises.

His ratings reveal a critic tough to impress: 28 percent of films earned 1 star, while 5 percent received the graveyard of zero stars. Horror films bore the brunt of his wrath—Longlegs and Heretic were sacrificed at the altar of his biting prose. Yet, amid the wreckage, 5 percent clawed their way to 4 stars, with dramas like One Life and Cabrini standing out for their emotional gravitas. Biopics, historical narratives and character studies fared best under his gaze, suggesting Reed still has a soft spot for films anchored in strong performances and rich storytelling.

One of the more controversial reviews? Reed’s glowing praise for Coup de Chance, which he called “Woody Allen’s best film in years.” In an industry where few dare applaud Allen publicly, Reed’s unapologetic endorsement (“unfairly derailed by obvious, headline-demanding personal problems”) was as bold as ever. Interestingly, the most-read review wasn’t the most positive—The Last Showgirl dazzled readers, perhaps more for the spectacle of Pamela Anderson’s Vegas reinvention than the film’s plot. It seems Reed’s audience enjoys his kinder takes, but they revel in his cinematic eviscerations just as much. When Reed loves a film, he ensures you know it—just as he ensures the worst offenders are left gasping for air.