Review: Thelma

A father and daughter walk over a frozen lake and head out into the snowy woods to hunt. Catching sight of a deer, the young girl is entranced, so much so that she doesn't notice her father aiming his rifle at the back of her head. On face value, the gesture may seem an extreme form of never wanting one's child to grow up, to preserve their innocence from the evils of the world but, as Joachim Trier's compelling new film Thelma unfolds, it becomes slowly but surely apparent that there may be more underlying motives for wanting to, but not, pulling the trigger.

Next time we see the young girl, Thelma (Eili Harboe) is grown up and starting her first year at an Oslo university. She's shy, unsurprising given her sheltered home life and overprotective Christian parents, who constantly check in on her to ensure that all is going well. They may have cause for concern as something peculiar is happening to Thelma. She's beginning to experience seizures, usually in the presence of Anja (Kaya Wilkins), a new friend with whom she shares a strong connection and whose friendship may be more than platonic.

For a time, Thelma posits itself as a fairly straightforward coming-out tale, depicting Thelma's sexual awakening as the root of and catalyst for her seizures. Yet the more it progresses, the more it traverses more unusual wavelengths. The first indications are innocuous enough - the seizures, animals beginning to follow Thelma - but then become more troubling: Anja appearing outside of Thelma's dorm without any idea how she got there, Thelma finding herself trapped beneath the surface of the school swimming pool, a snake slithering down Thelma's throat as Anja's hand slips between her legs. In the case of the last two instances, Thelma appears caught somewhere between dream and reality, though flashbacks to her childhood strongly suggest the first instance may be due to telekinesis and also reveal the truth for Thelma's parents' fear and anxiety.

Thelma mixes the erotic and the terrifying with remarkable agility. Even the most minor scenes are imbued with dread, rendering grander sequences all the more impactful. Case in point: the scene in the theatre where Thelma, reacting to Anja caressing her leg in the darkness, tries to control her convulsions, which also are affecting the chandelier that begins to swing precariously above Thelma and the other theatergoers. Trier's execution is perfectly calibrated, though perhaps some audiences seeking more visceral catharsis may find his approach to the material too glacial and intellectual.

Harboe is magnetic, the rest of the cast solid, but it may be cinematographer Jakob Ihre who deserves the biggest plaudits for his camerawork and compositions, inviting audiences to look through the glass, darkly, and brace ourselves for what looks back.

Thelma

Directed by: Joachim Trier

Written by: Eskil Vogt, Joachim Trier

Starring: Eili Harboe, Kaya Wilkins, Henrik Rafaelsen, Ellen Dorrit Petersen