Cute

Within the Nordic film industry, a particularly vibrant creative force is that powered by New Danish Screen, the Danish Film Institute’s funding scheme that, per the description on the official website, “supports talent development, giving new generations of filmmakers the opportunity to push their limits and create new audience experiences.” The scheme has helped birth pictures like Sauna and Weightless, but rarely has its mission statement sounded more apt than in the case of Cute, a disturbingly great – or greatly disturbing – first feature screened in San Sebastián’s New Directors strand and hopefully destined for wider exposure after that, at least on the festival circuit.

Then again, even among hardcore arthouse fans, how much they vibe with the film will come down to one simple question: can we empathize with a person who is, in theory, irredeemably despicable? Austrian filmmakers Markus Schleinzer and Ulrich Seidl tested that notion with Michael (2011) and Sparta (2022), to name two of the more notorious examples. And we’re not mentioning them at random: much like the leads in those two pictures, the male protagonist of Cute is, in no uncertain terms, a pedophile.

His name is Richard (Jan Gunnar Røise), and when we first meet him, he is in a seemingly happy relationship with a woman. Well, happy-ish – sexual intercourse is a rare occurrence, ostensibly as a side effect of medication he is taking. But there’s a darker underlying truth, as we learn very early in the film when Richard, discussing his treatment with a doctor, asks about a specific drug that would kill his libido permanently, via chemical castration. The doctor is puzzled, but doesn’t really engage further with the topic. But based on the preceding scenes, the implication is obvious: the man is attracted to his partner’s seven-year old daughter, and is desperately fighting those urges.

His options limited, Richard chooses to leave his girlfriend and return to his childhood home, with the intention of renovating it ahead of its sale, as his elderly mother is no longer capable of living autonomously. While dealing with all the arrangements, he meets the caregiver Stella (Gina Jaqueline), whose occasionally childlike behavior intrigues him. He then discovers she leads a double life, adopting a Lolita-inspired personality online as a camgirl. As the two grow closer, Richard thinks he may have found a way to satisfy his urges without crossing any lines. Provided, of course, Stella never figures out there’s more to their presumed role-playing than meets the eye.

Røise and Jaqueline are also listed as creative consultants in the closing credits, indicating they worked closely with first-time director Marlene Emilie Lyngstad to craft this peculiar, often harrowing universe and fully understand how to integrate their characters. The results are staggering, as they all combine their forces in service of a story that is equal parts compelling and repulsive (even the titular word, deliberately used in English, takes on an off-putting connotation). Røise is inevitably tasked with the more difficult performance, and he is at times hard to watch, for while his self-loathing adds a degree of sympathy, his behavior still makes it nigh-on impossible to properly root for him at any point.

This is most evident in the more intimate scenes, which Lyngstad stages and frames, with help from cinematographer Thomas Dyrholm, in a manner that makes them sexual but never sexy. Although the acts are consensual and between adults, all eroticism is removed from a context where one half of the couple can’t bring himself to look his partner in the eyes, and the audience may feel the same way about what’s happening on screen. At its best/worst (delete as applicable), the film is unrelentingly unpleasant (I caught myself looking away during some particularly upsetting shots), which paradoxically makes it even more intriguing for viewers wishing to see how it will all come to a head. And that is arguably Cute’s greatest achievement, not unlike other Danish pictures that thrive in the gray areas of life: we may not like the character(s), but their story ends up drawing us in regardless. Even as we occasionally avert our eyes.

Director: Marlene Emilie Lyngstad
Screenwriters: Marlene Emilie Lyngstad, Emilie Koefoed Larsen
Cast: Jan Gunnar Røise, Gina Jaqueline, Karin Bertling, Kitt Maiken Mortensen, Molly Kirk Rasmussen
Producers: Carl Osbaeck Adelkilde, Kristina Börjeson, Johanna Bergenstråhle, Thomas Robsahm
Cinematography: Thomas Dyrholm
Production design: Sara Helene Tilgaard Rasmussen
Costume design: Diana Dybkaer
Music: Josefine Skov
Sound: Emil Salling
Production companies: Nordisk Film Production, Film i Väst, Nordisk Film Production Sweden, Amarcord
World sales: TrustNordisk
Venue: San Sebastián International Film Festival (New Directors)
In Danish, Norwegian, English
106 minutes