Skip to main content

 


Thelma (2017), dir. Joachim Trier

The Norwegian film Thelma, directed by Joachim Trier and co-written with Eskil Vogt, is nearly flawless in every aspect. It succeeds where many others in its genre falter. First and foremost, the film plunges into the subconscious with such force that I found myself reaching for a few volumes of Jung from my bookshelf.

Thelma (Eili Harboe) moves away from her parents’ home in a small town to study biology in Oslo. She befriends a few fellow students, but one in particular, Anja (Kaya Wilkins), catches her attention. As Thelma begins experiencing epileptic seizures and ominous black birds hurl themselves at windows, things take a strange and gripping turn. When the friendship between the girls becomes something deeper, Thelma’s rigid Christian upbringing can’t handle it without resistance.

Although the film’s thematic thread is fairly clear—essentially a coming-of-age story—Trier layers it with family drama, tragedy, and the paranormal. One can even trace subtle lines of ancient folklore and Christian iconography throughout. A snake slithers across the floor and later across an elderly woman’s neck. Is this the sly, deceitful serpent of paradise—the very Devil? Or is it logos, a symbol of reason and understanding detached from the Christian context? Or perhaps the healing serpent of Asclepius from ancient Greece?

It’s precisely this duality, symbolism, and openness to interpretation that makes the film so captivating—it allows for free associations and the generation of personal meaning. One doesn’t need to scratch far beneath the surface to find C.G. Jung, whose own journey delved deeply into the psyche, even to the point of psychological collapse. If we consider Thelma’s character arc through this lens—her internal conflicts, family dynamics, and her erotic love for Anja—a rich psychological contradiction emerges that serves the film remarkably well.

Furthermore, the way Thelma’s inner world manifests externally through unexpected, involuntary catastrophes brings us closer to Jung’s theories.

Jung wrote the following about the Transcendent Function:

“It is a psychological function that arises from the tension of opposites... It is transcendent because it emerges spontaneously from the unconscious, manifested through symbols—dreams or visions... when inner conflict arises from instinctual rebellion against the ego’s oppressive control.”

While Jung emphasizes the repression of emotion, Trier pushes even further—and the result is appropriately cathartic.

In the end, Thelma is a film that offers an abundance of material to unpack. Trier’s brilliant use of flashbacks gradually unfolds new dimensions of the story, tightly interwoven with the whole, right up to the final frame. Jakob Ihre’s cinematography is excellent, and the performances by Eili Harboe and Kaya Wilkins are spot-on.

Dare I say it: there’s a pinch of De Palma here..yes i can!

Mika

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Anna Eriksson  E                                  In Tarkovsky’s The Sacrifice of Time , Tarkovsky recalls Ovid and Engels: “Ovid wrote that art lies in not being noticed” and “Engels emphasized that the better the creator’s vision is hidden, the better for the work of art.” Anna Eriksson’s film E is brilliantly lingering and unflinchingly bold, even witty. In her films, Eriksson relies on strong visuality, the subconscious, and the inexhaustible flow of associations. In her latest film E , Eva Volger (Anna Eriksson), as the Prime Minister of Finland, performs an anasyrma at a Nobel ceremony. In ancient Greece, an anasyrma was seen as a symbolic gesture conveying power and shock—one that exposes, unsettles, and forces the audience to confront a reality that the spectacle seeks to conceal. Next, we see Eva Volger wandering in the desert. Soon, her answering machine is flooded with messages. Thes...
Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Blue – The Multidimensionality of Loss and the Inner World    A family drives down the highway. A child watches the lights reflecting in the rear window. A dirt road, mist. A boy tosses a kendama by the roadside. Suddenly — a crash. What is loss? It is final.  In this essay, I examine Blue , the first film in Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Three Colors trilogy. I focus on the film’s thematic core: loss and the violently shifting emotional landscapes it creates—those places where words fail, collapse, and disintegrate. I also reflect on the film’s rhythm and visual language as part of a broader thematic whole. In addition, I reference certain key elements that contribute significantly to the film’s structure and meaning. In the opening scenes of Blue , Kieslowski employs a deliberately fragmentary visual style: labored breathing, blurred focus, and extreme close-ups—of a hand, of an eye reflecting the doctor’s face. This fragmentation mi...