Sick of Myself
Sick of Myself is a sharp black comedy from Norway concerned with the narcissism of youth and the pretentiousness of the contemporary art scene
In constant competition with her egotistical artist boyfriend, Signe (Kristine Kujath Thorp) seeks status and sympathy by purposefully taking pills known to cause a severe skin disorder. It’s a dark comedy that rejects any form of sentimentality to examine our own self-obsession with shameless honesty.
Signe wants care, attention, and clout; through the clearly polished yet effortlessly natural script, we’re reminded that we want all this too. Whether she’s taking a selfie in a hospital gown or imagining her funeral mid-sex, Signe is horrifically relatable, albeit extreme. Thorp carries the character with a magnetism that has us unable to look away – which is, ironically, exactly what Signe wants. It’s compelling – disturbingly so.
The couple’s relationship is hilarious in its somehow seamless abrasion. Meanwhile, Signe’s fantasies are comically contrived, always offset by a quick cut back to reality, leaving us and Signe dripping with guilt and amusement at our own disgustingness. It’s obviously not a universal comedy; rather, it’s a precise one, tapping into a specific audience. The narcissism of youth, the contemporary art world, the quiet resentment of romantic partners. Under director Borgli’s lens, the somewhat surface-level symptoms of wider societal issues become all the funnier.
Towards the film’s end, the narrative arguably slips too far into something of a cautionary tale. However, overall, its unsentimental and uninhibited navigation of body horror is deeply thoughtful. Sick of Myself demands a critical watch; but it’s a force nonetheless.
Released 21 Apr by Modern Films; certificate TBC