By Nia Edwards-Behi
Remember Bad Milo, from a few years back? That film was about the manifestation of personal anxieties in the form a butt demon, and very good it was too. Well, the origin of the demon in Der Nachtmahr isn’t quite so scatological, but it might certainly be considered a generic family member; the hyperactive, out-of-control step-daughter of Bad Milo’s mid-life crisis. The film is the narrative feature debut of multi-disciplinary artist AKIZ (Achim Bornhak), and considering the miniscule budget on which it was made, it’s really quite a triumph of artistic vision.
Our protagonist is 16-year old Tina (Carolyn Genzkow), a girl who spends as much time partying with her friends as she does at school or at home. After a particularly wild night at a pool-side rave, Tina finds herself seemingly terrorised by a demonic creature. Increasingly frustrated that no one else seems to see the creature, her behaviour becomes more erratic. Failing to convince her parents, friends or doctors that she’s not losing her mind, Tina is forced to confront the creature, and discovers it might be her only ally.
It’s fair to say that Der Nachtmahr is not a subtle film. There are all sorts of issues being explored here, and while its influences are worn on its sleeve, they’re explored very well. We’re not spoon-fed any part of Tina’s story, and there’s no effort to make her especially likeable so that we more easily root for her. She’s the kind of teenage girl that, when I was a teenage girl, I would have thoroughly considered myself to be the total opposite of. Even so, there’s a very pleasing sense of universality to her anxieties as they play out in the film. There’s a great deal of strength in treating a character that we, sensible adults, likely find frustrating with as much sympathy as the film does.
The film opens at a wild party. There’s several scenes like this through the scene, and they are wonderful visual and aural assaults. I like that in a film – I can sometimes be easy to please if something is loud and colourful enough – but thankfully their function in the film is as much a demonstration of Tina’s personality as it is a jarring counter-point to quieter, more contemplative scenes. The strobe-laden and claustrophobic party scenes show the huge gulf between where Tina chooses to be and where she is often stuck: at home. Her home is large and labyrinthine – though modern – and often seen in almost pitch blackness. Tina’s parents aren’t monsters, but their treatment of their daughter can be just as frustrating as her behaviour. There’s certainly a hint of Gaspar Noe’s disorientating tactics at work here too – allegedly mind-altering sound frequencies hidden in the soundtrack along with frequent strobing, but that’s where that comparison ends.
There’s another wonderful aspect to the rave scenes, and that’s their depiction of Tina. Given that the first time we see Tina and her friends is at one of these parties, we’d be forgiven for thinking this was a film about twenty-somethings. It’s only when we see Tina at home that she looks like a 16- or 17-year old (actress Carolyn Genzkow is 24 but plays a very convincing teenager, which makes a change!). It’s hugely jarring, and it happens several times during the film. It’s not dwelled upon much, but the effect does under-line that not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman thing of being a teenager.
And what of the creature? It’s grotesque enough to be horrifying, but cute enough to be alluring too. TIFF programmer Colin Geddes describes it as “looking like a cross between E.T. and Belial” and that’s pretty spot on, though I would have to throw in a dash of Milo, too. Unlike Milo or Belial, though, there’s something strangely benign about Tina’s creature, even if it never really stops being as gross as it is cute. There are many things that the creature represents in the film, from Tina’s myriad anxieties to any number of more physical results of a wild night’s partying. The creature is no one thing, and instead acts as both the cause of and crutch to Tina’s mental anguish.
And there’s the crux of what makes the film work, for me – for all the loud noises and bright colours (which I really do enjoy), it’s a film about a teenage girl’s mental health that’s neither patronising nor twee. It might not be an especially ground-breaking or provocative consideration of mental health, but it’s at least interesting. This coming of age drama is an assault on the senses and the psyche, and while it certainly won’t appeal to everyone – its protagonist too difficult, its style too aggressive – it’s sure to leave an impression.