Parenthood is said to be hardest at the beginning, before one learns how to read the child’s signals and how to respond to them. The same could be said of Nightborn, Hanna Bergholm’s competition entry at the Berlinale. In her second feature – and English-language debut – following the odd and fascinating Hatching [+lee también:
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The early scenes may feel occasionally clumsy, even slightly cringeworthy, as parents-to-be Saga (the wonderful Seidi Haarla) and Jon (Rupert Grint) and their seemingly idyllic life are introduced. But as the tale progresses, the narrative grows in confidence – and it rewards our patience. The increasingly fascinating story centres on Saga and her dream of becoming a mother and raising a family in her childhood home, nestled beside a strange forest.

It is clear early on that there is something eerie about Saga; she seems to share a special connection with the gnarled and twisted trees. In the woods, she decides that she and her down-to-earth, sweet English husband should have a baby. This decision comes at a price – one does not flirt with primordial forces for free. The delivery is bloody and exhausting, but the child, later named Kuura, appears healthy. Just a bit… odd. We have to take witnesses’ word for it, as we rarely see the baby, as if his mother were a certain Rosemary. As Saga struggles to heal her postpartum body and learn how to mother a “special needs” child, she receives little support from her family, who want both her and the kid to be “normal”. This becomes another source of tension.

Nightborn has its own style and syntax: a family and psychological drama infused with shades of horror, including body horror. Unlike in The Substance [+lee también:
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ficha de la película] or the all-time classic The Fly, here, the source of transformation is not external manipulation, but the natural process of giving birth. Saga bleeds heavily, gains weight, and needs crutches to walk and a special pillow to sit down – merciless images that feel oddly refreshing, as they are in stark contrast to the sweet, idealised version of motherhood promoted by social media and society. It is painfully real to see that little Kuura behaves almost like a parasite, draining his mother of joy and peace. Only she sees the boy for what he – although she insists on calling Kuura “it” – really is. And “it” requires special food, a special language and special entertainment. There is nothing conventional about Nightborn, and it is fascinating to watch what shape it ultimately takes.

Bergholm, who again co-wrote the script with Ilja Rautsi, shows a steady hand in building tension between Saga and the world around her, as well as in creating the chilling presence of Kuura and the forest. Unlike in many horror flicks, it is not clear how the story will conclude – one of the director’s biggest achievements. Another is her collaboration with Seidi Haarla, who conveys all of the emotional shades of her character with remarkable precision. The sounds of the woods and the numerous puppets used to create Kuura are also difficult to forget.

Nightborn, which also offers sprinkles of sarcastic humour, works very well as an arthouse horror and an exploration of the toxic family dynamic that blames women for everything that goes wrong. However, the movie should not be pigeonholed as an oddity for genre fans or only for those who can relate to the horrors of motherhood. It is a small festival gem that needs patience and time in order to shine – just like an unusual child.

Nightborn was produced by Komeetta (Finland), Filmai LT (Lithuania), Getaway Films (France) and Bluelight Nightborn Limited (UK).  Goodfellas handles the world sales.