Humans are made of energy, divided into two competing circuits: Ideal and Desire. So claims “Psychosia,” the feature debut by Marie Grahtø, which attempts to explore this conceptual premise through the rigors of psychoanalysis. While based on the director’s own experiences with psychotic episodes and hospitalization, what follows is a surprisingly dreamlike journey into the mind, one that breaks with the tradition of how psychology is traditionally portrayed in cinema. Unfortunately, though ambitious and peppered with striking imagery, the narrative of “Psychosia” often feels unmoored from its aesthetic, with the film’s own circuitry never quite connecting.
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The sense of unreality is established right from the start when Victoria (Lisa Carlehed) arrives at a psychiatric hospital whose lobby feels like it could be lifted out of a slightly less trippy Alejandro Jodorowsky film, all wide spaces, gleaming surfaces, and cold modernity. A researcher investigating suicide, she’s been summoned to the hospital by Anna Klein (Trine Dyrholm) to work with Jenny (Victoria Carmen Sonne). The young woman has been involved with institutions for eleven years, bouncing between foster homes and hospitals with such frequency it has become normalized for her. With a 132 IQ, she’s intelligent and sharp, but also just as troubled and emotionally damaged. When Victoria first meets Jenny, she finds her in the bathtub, an arm casually sliced open, the latest in a string of suicide attempts. Defiant, Jenny refuses to get out of the tub, and instead, forces Victoria get in with her, under threat of slicing her own throat. It’s an introduction between the characters that will speak volumes about the testy relationship that’ll unfold between them, one that will eventually dissolve into a revelation that unexpectedly draws them closer together.
Much of Grahtø’s screenplay is concerned with exploring the dynamics of personal and professional boundaries, and relationships that offer both fluid and rigid structures. Some of this is played out in therapy sessions between Victoria and Jenny, which are more enigmatic than they are revealing. The dialogue between the pair is often combative or uneasy, but slowly some measure of trust is established, even if the foundation it stands on seems precarious. This air of psychological mystification continues when the aforementioned themes unfold in dreamlike sequences, which skirt the line between reality and illusion. The scenes offer insight into the complex layers working in the minds of both Victoria and Jenny, but again keep any fuller understanding of these characters from being known. Meanwhile, standing on the edges of this interplay is Anna Klein, who observes the interactions between Victoria and Jenny from a distance, and Zarah (Bebiane Ivalo Kreutzmann), Jenny’s best friend, from whom any unexpected separation is cause for deep anxiety.
Shrouded in mystery, “Psychosia” leans too far in withholding information from the audience. Even Victoria herself proves to be something of an unreliable protagonist in this story. She feels out of time, wearing a shirt with high-ruffled collar, that feels more appropriate for Freud’s era than in a contemporary setting (one that’s only barely established, with only fleeting glimpses of modern technology). Eventually, we learn it’s because her neck bears deep, purpled bruises, from self-inflicted wounds from Victoria’s frequent sessions of choking herself behind closed doors.
Somewhere in this web of unclear intentions, cryptic characters, and disquieting atmosphere, Grahtø also wants to tell a story about the deeply rooted seeds of psychological imbalances, but it’s stifled by the film’s over-reliance on mood and style. Grahtø clearly wants to sidestep conventional story structure, but it comes at the cost of giving these characters nuance, instead positioning them for third act developments. Both actresses given solid performances, but are somewhat bound to one-dimensional portrayals of their characters: Carlehed is repressed and disciplined as Victoria, while Sonne plays Jenny with a series of tics. Even some consideration for established screenwriting tropes might’ve allowed for characters with more shading, while retaining the mystery at its core.
When “Psychosia” finally arrives at the moment that shows the deeper thread of connection between Victoria and Jenny, it’s almost too late. Grahtø struggles with how to resolve what it means for the characters, and the film never convinces with its conclusion that feels like an unearned shift in tenor. Nevertheless, Grahtø’s ambition on her debut feature is admirable. “Psychosia” is the work of a filmmaker refining their storytelling skillset, honing an already strong command of technical and visual talent, and it will be interesting to see the next direction she takes. [C-]