Kristoffer Borgli’s I’m Sick of Myself movie review

“I’m not a narcissist,” defends Signe in her thirties at the beginning, not even a hint of doubt in her voice. In the following 90 minutes, the dark comedy of the debuting director Kristoffer Borgli proves many times that the opposite is true. The blond-haired waitress from the Osel cafe does not just want to be the center of attention, but the universe.

For her, the others are only mirrors confirming her existence. He doesn’t need them for anything else. Not even his friend, the artist Thomas, who creates installations from stolen armchairs. The couple is united by the toxicity in which they support each other. Every meeting with family or friends, even an ordinary bus trip, is seen as a competition to see who will attract more eyes. Whether by lying, faking a nut allergy, or stealing luxury wine.

Thomas is already an experienced player, Signe is shy at first. But she soon realizes that if she doesn’t want to remain in the shadow of an increasingly successful partner, which she seriously doesn’t want in spite of her jealousy, she’ll have to toughen up.

An opportunity arises when a bloodied woman who was bitten by a dog walks into the cafe. As the others look on in horror, Signe saves her life. He finds a perverse pleasure in a traumatic event. For a moment she is a hero, she feels important. Even Thomas takes a sympathetic look at her when the partner comes home wearing a bloody shirt she strategically left on.

The protagonist re-induces the delightful, addictive feeling of recognition in a less healthy way. Through a dealer, he orders several packs of illegal anti-anxiety drugs, the use of which causes a rash. The waitress takes them first by the pills, then by the handfuls. Soon, her entire upper body, including her face, is covered in eczema and bleeding sores.

Even when Signe gets to the hospital, she first takes a selfie with her face covered in makeup. She finally got her way. She’s interesting with the disfigurement without having to constantly make things up. Just convincingly play the victim. However, Thomas does not want to allow his ego to be overshadowed by someone else’s misfortune.

In this way, the film increasingly escalates the manifestations of pathological self-centeredness. When it comes to inducing regret and guilt, nothing is taboo for actors. Not even death. Although the heroine’s narcissistic features are condensed and comically exaggerated, they are still believable thanks to actress Kristina Kujath Thorp, who shone in the scathing pregnancy comedy Ninjababy the year before. Behind the absurd outputs we still perceive an insecure woman with a disturbed perception of her own personality.

The film balances between black comedy and serious character study. Signe and Thomas are both psychologically believable characters and personifications of the worst symptoms of a sick age that produces narcissists like on a treadmill.

American sociologist Christopher Lasch, who is no longer alive wrote in the late 1970s about the culture of narcissism as one of the accompanying phenomena of consumer society. The latter gained momentum with the boom of social networks, where everyone can find an audience, their source of hearts and likes. However, if we see meaning mainly in how we appear on the outside, we invest more in ourselves and our own satisfaction than in others.

The film captures not only these mechanisms, but also the functioning of the fashion and advertising industry in the later part, which emphasizes the satirical dimension and even more points out the double face of Signe. Her situation is self-inflicted and thanks to it she has partial control over her surroundings. In order to maintain favor, however, he hides the truth and “sells” the exact opposite values ​​such as sadness, helplessness or fear.

The anti-heroine’s conviction that everything must conform to her is demonstrated by her daydreaming. The world she has imagined for herself is increasingly merging with reality, and Signe also begins to behave in public as if there is a crowd of paparazzi lurking around every corner. She shows off Instagram poses even when no one is looking.

Nobody but Benjamin Loeb’s camera. The actor often takes it from a distance, with a long focal length lens, and slowly walks in on them, like a voyeur spying on the victim from hiding.

The unusual style corresponds to the deranged thinking of the protagonists, as well as perhaps some influencers from YouTube or TikTok. In short, in this form, life is one big reality show. And the winner is not the one who is more talented, but the one who draws more attention to himself by all conceivable means.