Danish male directors have always loved their female sacrificial victims, from Carl Theodor Dreyer to Lars Von Trier to Nicolas Winding Refn. Charting the grim daily struggles and downward spirals of a troubled young woman on the streets of Copenhagen, Frames of Alicia initially seems to be aiming itself directly at this relentlessly bleak national canon, but it veers off into something a little more intimate and open-ended.
An immersive first-person portrait of urban loneliness, hunger for love and spirited resilience, writer-director Adam Benjamin Mikkelsen’s feature debut was made on a micro-budget, a poverty of resources which is sometimes all too evident. Even so, this slender contemporary drama punches above its weight in emotional impact, largely thanks to a gripping, nerve-jangling, intense central performance by Swedish novice actor Tuva Alfredsson, who is on screen for virtually every second. Frames of Alicia world premieres this week in Oldenburg, underscoring the German festival’s reputation for launching raw indie talent.
Alfredsson stars as the eponymous heroine, an aspiring R&B singer from Sweden who has just relocated to the Danish capital to try and kickstart her career. After dyeing her Nordic blonde hair a more exotic chemical red, and renting a room in a cheap shared apartment, she begins to hustle herself around town, but meets mostly indifference and rejection. A minor studio producer compliments her woozy voice, “like you just popped a Xanax or something”, while a shy young photographer helps her out with a promotional shoot. But music-making ultimately appears secondary to Alicia, who seems to be desperately seeking human connection more than career opportunity, wandering Copenhagen’s parks in a boozy haze looking for company, or flirting awkwardly with casual acquaintances.
This walking-wounded aura inevitably makes Alicia vulnerable, especially to lowlife predators masquerading as well-connected music industry players. An extended scene in which a smooth-talking, Andrew Tate-level slimeball pressures her into giving him oral sex feels like a tired plot cliché, but also painfully authentic, building from uneasy hints to a grimly intense battle of wills in what feels like real time. The aftermath of this ugly incident also has gritty bite, with Alicia galvanised into vengeful action, only to face violent threats and angry gaslighting from her attacker. A final revelatory scene gestures towards some kind of psychological “explanation” for all this high-risk behaviour, which is not entirely persuasive but certainly adds extra emotional heft.
Originally planned as a short, Frames of Alicia was shot guerrilla-style on the streets of Copenhagen by a two-man crew, director included, in 17 days scattered across four months. The story was unscripted, the dialogue improvised, and the final narrative shape only decided in the editing room. Alfredsson did her own styling and make-up, while Mikkelsen and cinematographer Danijel Bogdanic handled most of the other DIY production roles.
This kind of ultra-minimal, almost Dogme-like docu-realist austerity is fraught with risk, requiring strict formal discipline to avoid unravelling into stilted melodrama and windy self-indulgence. Fortunately Mikkelsen and his tiny team mostly avoid these pitfalls thanks to their keen eye for visual poetry and tight focus on Alfredsson’s committed performance. Bogdanic shoots in high-resolution, hand-held zoom shots that transform the star’s expressive face into an extraordinary living landscape, every pore and blemish and mascara smear amplified to billboard size, often sharply defined against a fuzzy backdrop.
Frames of Alicia never quite escapes the disjointed, inconclusive, work-in-progress feel implied by its title. The sense of a short film being stretched to breaking point is sometimes palpable. But this is an impressive debut all the same, a solid stand-alone work but also a teasing taste of the great things these budding talents may achieve in future with a bigger budget and a more substantial narrative.
Director, screenwriter, editing: Adam Benjamin Mikkelsen
Cast: Tuva Alfredsson, Ali Bayate, Balthazar Rademacher
Cinematography: Danijel Bogdanic
Producers: Adam Benjamin Mikkelsen, Danijel Bogdanic
Production company: Alienworld
Venue: Oldenburg Film Festival (Independent)
In Danish, Swedish
71 minutes
