Norwegian director Viljar Bøe has been hacking out an interesting niche for himself in the horror genre, specialising in a variety grounded more in psychology than supernatural jiggery pokery. For example, Good Boy from 2022 revolved around a man and his “dog” (who is obviously a guy in a dog costume) acting like a mutt at all times. Similarly, his new feature features a character called Amir (Freddy Singh) with a psychological fixation that’s so unusual he feels he must keep it a secret from his girlfriend and all acquaintances: he has body integrity dysphoria (BID), which in his case means he has an overwhelming desire to amputate his left leg even though there’s nothing physically wrong with it.
Amir lives with his super-nice, cheerful girlfriend Kim (Julie Abrahamsen) in hyper-tolerant, Scandi-socialist quasi-utopia Norway, so when he drunkenly tries to self-amputate, everyone just assumes it was a suicide attempt and showers him with understanding and support. His old friend Jonas (Viggo Solomon) even offers him an office job, but Amir is so obsessed with his leg he constantly haunts the chainsaw aisle at his local DIY shop. After seeing an interview on TV with Rikke (Louise Waage Anda), a young woman who is open about her own BID (she wants to be blind), Amir seeks her out for advice. Soon, the two of them are having a sort of platonic affair, with Amir storing his cache of paintings depicting himself as an amputee that he doesn’t dare let Kim see.
In back and forward flashes we get quick glimpses of gore-smeared rocks and pools of blood, promising horror to come. Plus, Bøe keeps putting a day-by-day countdown on screen, auguring the approach of the moment when the “accident” will happen, so we know things will go stump-shaped in some way. But while the will-he-won’t-he mystery gets resolved, some viewers may be left wanting a little more explanation about why Amir feels this way about his body.
It doesn’t help that Singh, while physically imposing and a co-creator of the film’s story, is a bit limited as an actor apart from the scenes where he performs pain or anger. Amir’s lumpish demeanour and utter self-absorption rather undermines sympathy for him and make one wonder why poor, good-natured Kim and Jonas put up with him in the first place. But this is still a film that lingers in the mind long after it is over – not just because of the gore but because of the subtler questions it raises about identity and community.
Above the Knee is on digital platforms from 9 September.