Sick of Myself

"An unromantic comedy."

2022 1h 37m NO

👍

7.2

SOLID

★7.2TMDB · 449

ComedyHorror

Synopsis

Spoiler shield

Increasingly overshadowed by her boyfriend's recent rise to fame as a contemporary artist creating sculptures from stolen furniture, Signe hatches a vicious plan to reclaim her rightfully deserved attention within the milieu of Oslo's cultural elite.

“An unromantic comedy.”

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Where to watch · US

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Cast

Kristine Kujath Thorp
Signe
Eirik Sæther
Thomas
Fanny Vaager
Marte
Fredrik Stenberg Ditlev-Simonsen
Yngve
Sarah Francesca Brænne
Emma
Steinar Klouman Hallert
Stian
Ingrid Vollan
Beate
Andrea Bræin Hovig
Lisa

Credits

Behind the camera

Director: Kristoffer Borgli
Writers: Kristoffer Borgli
Languages: Norwegian, Swedish, English
Countries: Norway, Sweden

Want more? Switch to Cinephile mode in the header for DP, composer, budget, box office, production companies, keywords, and release history.

Did you know?

Fun facts 🍿

1 / 8

ERA

Did you know

Released 4 years ago.

MoodPlayr · trivia#01

2 / 8

WORLD

Did you know

Dialogue crosses 3 languages: Norwegian, Swedish, English.

MoodPlayr · trivia#02

3 / 8

WORLD

Did you know

International production across 2 countries: Norway, Sweden.

MoodPlayr · trivia#03

4 / 8

DIRECTOR

Did you know

Directed by Kristoffer Borgli, shot by Benjamin Loeb. Note their partnership — DPs and directors often return to each other across a career.

MoodPlayr · trivia#04

5 / 8

DIRECTOR

Did you know

Original score by TURNS. Worth a dedicated listen after — most great films lose half their impact without the score.

MoodPlayr · trivia#05

6 / 8

DIRECTOR

Did you know

Editor Kristoffer Borgli shaped the rhythm. On an edit-heavy film, the editor does more to control your pulse than the director.

MoodPlayr · trivia#06

7 / 8

CAST

Did you know

Kristine Kujath Thorp and Eirik Sæther and Fanny Vaager carry the top of the cast.

MoodPlayr · trivia#07

8 / 8

FACT

Did you know

Marketing tagline: "An unromantic comedy.".

MoodPlayr · trivia#08

Cinephile deep dive

The take

Kristoffer Borgli directs. Benjamin Loeb behind the camera. TURNS scores. Kristoffer Borgli cuts. Runs lean at under 100 minutes. Produced in Norway, Sweden. Dialogue in Norwegian, Swedish, English.

Trivia

Things worth knowing

1Released 4 years ago.
2Dialogue crosses 3 languages: Norwegian, Swedish, English.
3International production across 2 countries: Norway, Sweden.
4Directed by Kristoffer Borgli, shot by Benjamin Loeb. Note their partnership — DPs and directors often return to each other across a career.
5Original score by TURNS. Worth a dedicated listen after — most great films lose half their impact without the score.
6Editor Kristoffer Borgli shaped the rhythm. On an edit-heavy film, the editor does more to control your pulse than the director.
7Kristine Kujath Thorp and Eirik Sæther and Fanny Vaager carry the top of the cast.
8Marketing tagline: "An unromantic comedy.".
9IMDB entry: tt18816518 — still the authoritative cross-reference for credits and trivia.
10Classified under 12 themes, including "drug abuse", "narcissism", "dark comedy", "social satire".

The technical file

Cinematography: Benjamin Loeb
Original score: TURNS
Editing: Kristoffer Borgli
Production design: Henrik Svensson
Makeup / hair: Dimitra Drakopoulou
Sound: Gustaf Berger
Stunt coordinator: Kai Kolstad Rødseth
Runtime: 97 min · 1h 37m
Aspect ratio (typical): 1.37:1 (Academy)
Status: Released
Box office: $1,051,375
Original language: NO
Certification (US): NR
IMDB: Sick of Myself (2022)

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Kristoffer Borgli

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Community reviews

What people are saying

badelf2026-09-15
Summary: 8/10: a hilarious, unnervingly well-constructed portrait of a serious disorder, carried by a fearless performance from Kristine Kujath Thorp, that fools its characters and its audience by the same method. The direction is the film's real feat, considering the material. Kristoffer Borgli's black comedy starts its two leads close to caricature, a narcissist and a bigger narcissist, locked in a competition neither will admit they're having. Signe (Kristine Kujath Thorp) is losing her boyfriend Thomas (Eirik Sæther) to his sudden fame as a sculptor who builds his pieces from furniture he's stolen. Rather than compete on any axis where she might actually win, she chooses illness, poisoning herself with a black-market drug to trigger a disfiguring skin reaction, then riding the sympathy it generates like a woman who has finally found her calling. But director Kristoffer Borgli and Thorp keep pulling you back from the cartoon; every so often the film lets you see the panic underneath Signe's performance, the real emotional hunger driving the con, and suddenly she stops being a type and becomes a person you recognize, possibly from your own worst behavior at a dinner party. That's a difficult juggling act to hold for ninety minutes, but this film holds it, in spite of some slowness toward the end of act two. Thorp's performance is the engine, and it's a genuinely brilliant one. She has to play a woman lying to everyone around her while also, in a sense, lying to the audience, and she does it by never breaking the fiction from the inside; Signe believes her own performance so completely that we start to as well. The film's cleverest trick is structural. Signe's elaborate fantasies, the magazine profiles, the modeling contracts, the tearful public vindications she imagines for herself, are staged with the same visual conviction as the film's reality, so that you, like Signe's friends, absorb them as plausible before you catch yourself and realize you've been had. That's not a cheap gag; it's the whole thesis rendered as form. The friends who enable her aren't stupid, and neither is the audience. We all wanted to believe the more interesting version of the story. Which makes the support-group scene the moral hinge of the film. It's the one room where Signe's routine doesn't work, where people who have genuinely suffered simply have no patience for her performance of suffering, and the flatness of their response lands harder than any confrontation could. It's the film's version of a truth I keep coming back to: people tell you exactly who they are right up front, we just aren't listening, except here, the group listens perfectly and simply refuses to be fooled. Signe's friends fail that test. We, briefly, fail it too. The satire around the edges, the contemporary art world's appetite for a good backstory, the way social media and NGO-adjacent sympathy culture reward victimhood as a kind of currency, gives the film its bite without ever letting the comedy overwhelm the character study at its center. It's very funny, and it's also genuinely upsetting once you sit with what you've watched, which is a person destroying her own body because she has no other language left for asking to be loved. That destruction has a clinical name. What the DSM-5 calls Factitious Disorder Imposed on Self, most people still know by its older name, Munchausen syndrome, named after a Baron famous for his tall tales. The clinical picture is grim: patients deliberately falsify or induce symptoms in themselves with no external incentive beyond the attention, care, and sympathy the sick role provides, and the prognosis, once the behavior is chronic, is poor. This is a movie about a real and serious disorder that never mocks the disorder itself; it mocks the culture that makes faking it look like a rational career move.

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