‘I’m tired of myself’
Signe is a central figure in a bold Norwegian satire that threads together black comedy and sharp drama. The film hovers between critique and spectacle, showcasing a contemporary artist’s reckless path toward notoriety and self-discovery. The project sits on the shoulders of a thriving Norwegian cinema scene, where bold voices consistently push boundaries and invite reflection on fame, art, and personal boundaries.
In this story, Signe moves through a sequence of provocative choices that test social norms and audience tolerance. She is entangled in a volatile relationship and a chaotic personal life, while performing acts that blur the line between vulnerability and manipulation. A restaurant theft—where 2,300 euros worth of wine bottles vanish—sets a tone that is both audacious and unsettling. Her partner keeps a vigilant eye on her, and their dynamic frames the tension that powers much of the film’s dark humor and dramatic tension. The character’s actions provoke immediate questions about intention, consequence, and the cost of living in a world that values appearances over authenticity.
The narrative traces Signe’s responses to a social landscape that prizes sensationalism. She feigns dietary intolerance at a dinner, manipulating a moment to test the reactions of others, and she uses an incident involving a dog to craft a riddle about loyalty and danger. As the plot unfolds, illegal drug use and skin-harmful exposure become more than mere plot devices; they symbolize the pressures of living under constant observation and the perilous fantasy of drawing attention by any means necessary. The film treats these moves as purposeful provocations rather than mere antics, inviting viewers to weigh the ethics of criticism and the allure of scandal.
Signe does not chase fame in the traditional sense. Her face shows scars and bandages that echo cinematic archetypes from classic horror and experimental cinema alike. Yet the aim is not to evoke pity but to mirror the hunger for recognition that drives many modern artists. The work adopts a tonal balance that can feel mercurial: moments that skew toward stark melodrama are tempered by a counterweight of satirical bite. The result is a film that invites parties to confront the culture of image-making head-on, challenging the audience to decide where real meaning ends and performance begins. The stronger portion of the film leans into its satirical critique, while the melodramatic thread sometimes risks tipping into excess. Still, the overall effect is a memorable portrait of an era that seems to worship spectacle and self-curation as much as art itself.