Sick of Myself

Sick of Myself is a jet black Norwegian tragi-comedy from writer/director, Kristoffer Borgli. It starts in a posh restaurant where Signe (Kristine Kujath Thorp) is being treated to a birthday meal by her irritating boyfriend, Thomas (Eirik Sæther). He tells her to take a fake phone call outside, and is soon after seen legging it down the street with a two-grand bottle of wine, waiter in pursuit. If this makes us question where the film is heading, the next scene amps up the perplexity. Signe is at work in a cafe when a fairly shocking 'incident' occurs. This acts as the spark to what follows with Signe, and well, it's no stretch to say it's certainly a confronting film.

Thomas is an up-and-coming modern sculptor, who makes shit out of stolen furniture. As the interest in his work grows, Signe finds herself being more and more sidelined. All the attention is on Thomas, even though Signe craves her share, after all "the police and paramedics all said I may have saved that woman's life." There's a brilliant scene at an after-show dinner where she fakes an allergy, that hints at her desperation. Awkward doesn't quite cover it.

The film dances along a fine line between mental health struggles and ripping seven shades out of the privileged 'me' generation. Fame whores and wellness freaks get a proper lathing from Borgli and some of his writing is squirm-inducing. I reckon he finds the right balance but it's a close run thing at times. Thorp carries most of the film and she has to take an enormous amount of credit for some of the stuff she's called upon to do. A cracking turn in an idiosyncratic film.

Sick of Myself opens Oct 5th at Luna cinemas.

See also:

I'll stay in Norway and recommend Morten Tyldum's Headhunters (2011) and Eskil Vogt's The Innocents (2021). Both great fun.