QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM BERLIN

This is the third feature by Australian director Natalia Erika James, who first rose to prominence with debut with psychological horror Relic (2020). She now takes her characters on a horrific weight loss journey. Horror is the appropriate avenue to tackle such sensitive themes – eating-disorders, fat-shaming, body dysphoria, etc – in a playful way.

Medical student Hana’s (Midori Francis) desperation to lose weight is emboldened by her infatuation with Alanya, an aspiring fitness influencer and personal trainer. Alanya prompts Hana to sign up to her trail exercise programme. Francis is ostensibly plumped-up with prosthetics, an uncanny resemblance to Goldie Hawn’s overweight Helen Sharp in Death Becomes Her (Robert Zemeckis, 1992). The initiative proves futile, at first. Hana has to contend with a severe sugar addiction. An old and skinny friend offers her a miracle no-diet weight-loss pills with immediate, impressive results. But the pills contain human ash… from this point on expect otherworldly components to kick in!

The pill subscription is far too expensive. So Hana resourcefully – if implausibly – uses the incinerated body parts from the cadaver of a morbidly obese woman in the chemistry lab in order to create her own version of the tablet. The rapid weight loss leads to harrowing visits by the spirit of the fat lady. The spirit becomes attached to Hana, specifically on to her internal glucose monitor, appearing whenever Hana’s blood sugar is low. What follows is wild, frenzied ride of all manner of excesses – mostly around food – to offer an original, if messy, take on demonic possession.

The gruesome, visually rich images reflecting the turbulent psyche of the protagonist. She has to make the difficult choice: either get off the pills (and presumably put on weight), or continue to grapple with the terrifying ghost.

Some of the strands are very clever, conceivably stand-alone films if they were given the space to breathe. Francis does a stellar job in capturing psychological bewilderment. The rest of this cast too are very good. Developmenst are ramped up in order to reach a surprising – if prolonged – crescendo. In act of pure indulgence, the director appears to milk the aesthetically finessed anatomical imagery she constructed herself.

This is a horror that isn’t too preoccupied with jump scare. Instead, it resorts to exaggeration. In doing so, exposes the warped mindset pervasive around our bodies. This is a movie hellbent on making us feel bad about our shallow preoccupations.

Saccharine just premiered in the Special Midnight section of the 76th Berlinale