At first, Ko’s film plays like a bleak drama evocative of Calin Peter Netzer’s Romanian heart-tugger, “Child’s Pose,” as Paul and his ex-wife, Christine (Ulrike C. Tscharre), grapple with the moral ramifications of an unthinkable dilemma. Will they hand their child over to the authorities, or will their love for her override their better judgment? Andreas Köhler’s magnificent cinematography creates some of the most indelible compositions I’ve seen this year, building a Hitchcockian sense of dread with its claustrophobic angles, boxing in characters as they find themselves well in over their heads. The surprise comes about a third of the way through the picture, as “We Monsters” reveals itself to be a diabolically entertaining ode to twisted karma, fueled by the sort of morbidly funny irony that made Damián Szifrón’s “Wild Tales” such a hoot. A recurring visual motif of a caterpillar’s transformation into a butterfly inspires multiple interpretations as secrets are stowed away, lines of civility are crossed and ordinary people are forced to confront the monstrous nature of their primal instincts. “If she transformed into an alien, it wouldn’t surprise me,” replies Paul while staring at his daughter. It won’t be long before he’ll start feeling the same way about himself.
Unlike the other three films in this article, “Homesick” is being featured in Toronto’s Contemporary World Cinema program, though its director will be no less of a discovery to many audiences. Norwegian filmmaker Anne Sewitsky has a penchant for telling stories that involve some semblance of youth, whether they’re films about kids (such as her bawdy short, “Oh, My God!”) or for kids (her family-friendly feature, “Totally True Love”). Indeed, the opening title sequence for “Homesick” shows its twenty-something heroine, Charlotte (Ine Marie Wilmann), leading a group of pint-sized students in a spirited dance lesson. Charlotte’s tendency to look both adult and childlike in the same moment is indicative of her own arrested development. Growing up estranged from her scattered family, she has never felt a true intimacy with anyone in her life—until she meets her half-brother, Henrik (Simon J. Berger). Though he initially treats her coldly, the pair begin to bond through a series of role-playing antics. She wins him over by agreeing to a childish dare, and later informs a waitress that she and Henrik are newlyweds on their honeymoon. The siblings’ mutual attraction clearly frightens them both, yet quickly becomes too potent for either of them to deny.
This premise could’ve easily been exploited for the sake of cheap titillation, yet Sewitsky honors her characters by humanizing their feelings without judgment. In terms of films handling the topic of incest with remarkable sensitivity, “Homesick” is in a league with Samuel Perriard’s superb “Black Panther: The Story of Emilie and Jacob” (which screened at last year’s Chicago International Film Festival). It is also a spectacular showcase for Wilmann, who brings entrancing nuances to every scene, enabling us to understand each step of her character’s emotional journey. There’s a heartbreaking moment where she stands with her dancing class, while clad in silly dog ears, and stares out at her boyfriend in the audience. He’s one of many people in her life that she has begun to systematically isolate herself from, as her affair with Henrik grows fiercer in its intensity. In that scene, more than any other, we can see the lost girl within the radiant woman, yearning for the human connection that was sorely lacking throughout her childhood. It is to Sewitsky’s credit that the film refuses to saddle its complex tale with a trite message, or provide its characters with any easy answers.
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