THE GIRL WITH THE NEEDLE: A Psychological Thriller or Already a Horror?

Although The Girl with the Needle has only recently premiered in Polish cinemas, it has been enjoying great success at film festivals ever since its presentation at Cannes in May last year. On Thursday, January 23, news also arrived from across the ocean that the film had received an Oscar nomination in the Best International Feature Film category (alongside Emilia Pérez and I’m Still Here). The latest film by Magnus von Horn—whom some may remember from Sweat (2020), starring Magdalena Koleśnik—is undoubtedly the most significant Polish presence at this year’s Academy Awards. The story takes us to World War I-era Copenhagen, and the film itself is a Danish-Swedish-Polish co-production, largely shot in Lower Silesia.
But what kind of film has von Horn created? Most descriptions available online before watching the film classify The Girl with a Needle as a drama—either social or crime-based. However, the distributor’s promotional materials label it a psychological thriller. After viewing the film, even this description feels like an understatement. Von Horn, alongside co-writer Line Langebek, has crafted a story that at times chills the blood while remaining universally poignant.
The protagonist, Karoline Nielsen (played by Vic Carmen Sonne), is a young woman living in war-stricken Copenhagen, struggling with poverty, grueling factory work, and the difficulty of affording a place to live. She is a seamstress trying to make ends meet alone, as her husband, Peter, has disappeared without a trace on the front. Suspended in the solitude of a war widow with no certainty about her husband’s fate, Karoline soon embarks on an affair with a man whose affection and social standing could transform her life. However, as the director himself describes it, this film is “a fairy tale for adults.” Instead of a change in fortune, Karoline faces an escalating series of hardships and a growing sense of helplessness. When she finds herself completely alone—pregnant and unemployed—the only glimmer of hope appears in the form of an older woman named Dagmar (played by Trine Dyrholm). Dagmar offers to find a foster family for Karoline’s unborn child, promising it a better life.
This plot is introduced through both the distributor’s synopsis and the official trailer, but from its opening moments, the film surprises with an intense build-up of tension and unease. Cinematographer Michał Dymek (The Real Pain, EO, Sweat), working alongside composer Frederikke Hoffmeier (also known in Denmark as Puce Mary), creates a visually unsettling experience. The film’s stark black-and-white aesthetic evokes the haunting atmosphere of Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse, raising the question of whether the protagonist’s suffering will ultimately lead her into madness.
Many scenes are shot from behind Karoline, with the camera often focusing on her eyes, as if searching for hidden emotions behind her impassive expression. The cinematographic techniques borrow heavily from horror cinema, instilling a constant sense of dread. At times, the audiovisual rhythm shifts, briefly lulling the audience into complacency before resuming its relentless emotional grip.
However, as we witness Karoline’s continued suffering, a crucial question emerges: How much more can she endure? And how much more can we, as viewers, endure watching it? This is perhaps the film’s most significant and challenging aspect—over its two-hour runtime, we are immersed in psychological anguish in many forms. The overwhelming bleakness pervading nearly every character’s life raises deeper questions about morality: Do ethical principles remain the same under such dire circumstances? Is there ever a definitive answer?
Vic Carmen Sonne and Trine Dyrholm deliver outstanding performances, masterfully portraying the complex relationship between two women forced to navigate a world without male protection. The film’s emotional depth challenges conventional notions of morality, and both actresses fully commit to their roles, seamlessly blending into the film’s somber narrative.
On one hand, The Girl with the Needle is brutally grounded in realism, making it easy to empathize deeply with the characters. On the other hand, some critics have labeled it “misery porn”—a near-exploitative parade of suffering, where the story seems to relentlessly torment its protagonist. This perspective, while debatable, is not entirely unfounded. The film compels us to question where the boundary lies between necessary storytelling and excessive bleakness—and whether it ever truly crosses that line.
The film’s conclusion, however, slightly tips the scales, leaving us not necessarily with a sense of hopelessness, but with lingering reflections. Though set over a century ago, many of von Horn’s questions remain strikingly relevant. Given that the central conflict revolves around an unwanted pregnancy, some might interpret the film as a commentary on abortion rights. However, von Horn denies this, likely avoiding such a narrow interpretation. Instead, his adult fairy tale explores the nuances of morality in a world that, despite its black-and-white cinematography, refuses to be seen in binary terms.
Trine Dyrholm’s character, Dagmar, plays a crucial role in this message. In her final monologue, she does not merely accuse the characters present in the scene but seems to indict society as a whole, exposing our collective complicity in turning a blind eye to suffering. Do we understand the antagonist’s actions? Certainly not. But her words force us to confront uncomfortable truths that are not easily dismissed.
Ultimately, von Horn and Langebek have crafted an exceptional script, making the fairy tale label feel entirely appropriate. Viewing The Girl with the Needle through this lens highlights its universal themes. The war serves merely as a backdrop, replaceable by any other socio-political crisis. Karoline’s economic hardship is not just a relic of the past; for many, it remains a harsh reality today. While the world may have changed, the issues von Horn explores remain as relevant as ever.
Before watching The Girl with the Needle, one must be prepared for a challenging and, at times, emotionally draining experience. However, for those willing to engage with its vision, the film offers a powerful and thought-provoking cinematic journey—one that forces us to ask ourselves who we truly are in such a world.