Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Hanna Bergholm
Starring: Siiri Solalinna, Sophia Heikkilä, Jani Volanen, Reino Nordin, Oiva
Ollil
If the Brothers Grimm were around today they'd probably be a pair of
bearded hipster filmmakers with a cult fanbase. They might make movies
like Hatching. Director Hanna Bergholm's feature debut has all the
ingredients of a classic dark fairy tale: a put-upon young heroine, a
domineering matriarch and of course, a monster from the woods. Bergholm
takes these classic elements and wraps them in a very modern veneer
through a critique of social media-driven image obsession.
Our young heroine is 12-year-old gymnast Tinja (Siiri Solalinna). She lives a seemingly idyllic life in a posh Finnish suburb with her
family. At least that's how it's presented in the clip from her mother's
(Sophia Heikkilä) latest well-tailored video for her popular
mommy blogger channel. Tinja is actually quite miserable, thanks to her
mother's obsession with pushing her daughter to win a gymnastics
competition. Her father is inattentive and her little brother is a
miniature asshole.
Tinja's life is shaken up when a raven gets into the family home,
causing havoc in the living room as it knocks over her mom's ornaments
and trinkets. When Tinja captures the bird, her mom immediately snaps
its neck and throws it in the trash. The bird is still alive however.
Hearing its howls of pain that night, Tinja sneaks out and puts it out
of its misery by bashing its head in with a rock. Next to the bird she
finds an unhatched egg, which she takes to her bedroom and looks after
as it grows to alarming proportions.
What hatches is initially a bird-like creature not unlike something you
might find in one of Jim Henson's darker movies. If its movements feel
like that of a dinosaur, it's likely down to the creature being created
by animatronic designer Gustav Hoegen. He worked on
Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, and there's one particular shot in Hatching that feels
like a direct nod to that movie. As the bird grows it begins to shed its
feathers, then its beak, as it gradually takes on a human form with a
disturbing similarity to Tinja. The girl and the creature seem to share
a sort of telekinesis, with the latter sensing those deemed a threat to
the former. This leads the creature to undertake a violent rampage as it
mines Tinja's darkest thoughts and acts upon them.
Solalinna is a revelation in the dual role of the sad-eyed Tinja and
her monstrous doppelganger. Bergholm and writer
Ilja Rautsi ensure that their young protagonist is relatably
childlike. Unlike the smart-ass kids of so many movies, Tinja is
innocent and clueless, which is why she is so easily manipulated by her
mother, and why it takes a monster from the id for her to finally assert
herself. Tinja's mother may be a stock fairy tale villain, but again,
Bergholm and Rautsi have created a very human figure, one who seems to
carry her own sadness beneath the visage she puts on for the world. At
one point she mentions her nerves before the skating competitions she
entered as a child, and it's clear that she's perpetuating what amounts
to a cycle of abuse.
The fake veneer of Tinja's mother extends to the world the film plays
out in. Akin to the colourful presentation of 1950s suburban America in
Bob Balaban's
Parents, Bergholm's film takes place largely in daylight, in well-furnished
bedrooms and manicured lawns where secrets are buried. Bergholm seems as
curious about the darkness of middle class Finland as David Lynch is of
its American equivalent. Hatching ends with a moment of
contemplation that suggests another dark secret is set to be hidden for
the sake of keeping up appearances.
