Sick of Myself

In selected cinemas now

Kristoffer Borgli’s acerbic picture offers a cynical take on influencer culture through the medium of both body horror and black comedy. Borgli’s screenplay is focused on the character of Signe (played by the excellent Kristine Kujath Thorp), a disillusioned young woman who is tired of living in the shadow of her obnoxious artist boyfriend (Eirik Sæther).

Signe is essentially on a quest to be seen by her peers, a relatable travail for anyone trying to navigate the ubiquitous social media age. However, rather than pursue this venture through either noble or traditional means, she decides to take obscene amounts of a banned drug that is known to cause skin disease, in the belief that her affliction will grant her the spotlight she routinely fantasises about.

In many ways, this feels like The Elephant Man in reverse, in the sense that the physical deformation of its protagonist is self-inflicted and at no point does the film ask you to sympathise with their plight. While that juxtaposition makes for a fitfully entertaining experience (Borgli certainly demonstrates a penchant for the sort of dark, unapologetic humour that appeals to certain viewers), it’s hard to shake the feeling that the deep-rooted cynicism of Sick of Myself ultimately leaves it devoid of a deeper meaning.

As The Smiths once said, it’s easy to laugh and hate but it takes strength to be gentle and kind, and Borgli misses a grand opportunity to say something more profound about a topic that is synonymous with our times. Kujath Thorp’s stellar performances ensures that Sick of Myself never outstays it welcome, but one can’t help feeling that it ultimately has very little to say about anything.