Vera (Asta Kamma August) is a warm and affable young woman, enjoying a happy relationship with the friendly and vaguely clumsy Andre (Herbert Nordrum). They get on so incredibly well that not only they share a bed, but also a profession and an ambition. Together, they have developed a revolutionary mobile healthcare app that will help women from the least developed parts of the globe to identify and treat a vast array of conditions. Vera herself understands what specialist care means because she is a hemophiliac (someone who suffers from delayed blood clotting, and could easily bleed to death). All they have to do now is pitch their product. They are convinced that Andre’s technical knowledge combined with Vera’s personal story will win the hearts of potential partners and buyers.

It all suddenly changes after Vera visits the hypnotherapist in order to quit smoking. Indeed she gives up her ciggies, however the session triggers something else inside of her. She becomes a dark and confrontational person. An icy, cynical, at times perverse grin replaces her kind and sweet smile. It’s almost as if she was possessed. Andre and Vera socialise with other young entrepreneurs seeking to pitch their latest invention. Vera breaks the social conventions of this tacitly yet rigidly regimented group. She pretends to have an invisible chihuahua, which she proceeds to pet, feed and walk. She becomes extremely aggressive when fellow businesswoman Karin (Moa Niklasson) steps on the imaginary creature. Andre suspects that Vera is slipping into psychosis, yet there are telltale signs that she’s not insane at all. Kamma August is particularly good at conveying profound emotions and ambivalence.

This is a movie populated with long moments of awkwardness from beginning to end. A genuine cringe drama, with subtle comedic elements. This includes both silence and ineffective communication. At times, Vera just stares at Andre, causing immediate discomfort. But it is the social interactions that causes most disconcert and embarrassment. It isn’t entirely clear whether the “new” Vera is being serious or acting up, and such ambiguity continues to escalate until Andre comes up with a cunning plan. He loves his partner, and is determined to allow solidarity and complicity to triumph above everything else. So he contacts Vera’s hypnotherapist, only to be told that Vera is fully conscious, and not under hypnosis. Hypnotherapy may alter patterns, but it won’t turn people into someone else, the doctor explains.

This is a familiar filmic topic, and dramatic experiment. Vera’s absurd behaviour, bordering on madness, is not dissimilar to the titular characters of Lars von Trier’s The Idiots (1998), as they “spass” (behave like mentally disabled people) in order to shock others. There is also a touch of animalistic demeanour in one of the final sequences, which immediately recalls the “gorilla man” of Ruben Ostlund’s The Square (2017). What these films have in common is that they are all Scandinavian.

This is a rather simple movie with a very simple idea, which actually works. Thirty-five-year-old Swedish director Ernst De Geer’s debut feature deftly illustrates the struggle between individuality and social/romantic expectations. It raises pertinent questions about out perception of our loves ones, and also of people who we barely know. Do people change, or is it just the perception that we have of them that alters? Is it socially acceptable to embody a new persona without warning and explanation? Is it ok to manipulate our loved ones for their own good? Do we unconsciously break the ties that bind us together, and unintentionally hamper our emotional integrity? The strength of the movie relies in confounding viewers, leaving these questions unanswered. An endearing ending will put a smile on your face. A candid smyle. Or maybe a cynical smile. Your choice!

The Hypnosis was in the Official Competition of the 22nd Tiff Romania, when this piece was originally written. Out exclusively on Mubi on Friday, August 16th.