Although there is no physical evidence to confirm it, I have long suspected my mother may have experienced postpartum depression. Signs can be found in almost any of the photographs taken in the first few months of my life: In almost every one, my mother has a deer-in-the-headlights expression as she’s holding me, as if she is thinking where on earth did this come from and what am I supposed to do with it? Further support for my theory lies in the fact that my father once told me that after I was born, they hired a live-in nanny for a short period to help with my care. Even then, that was a luxury only afforded to wealthy households — and our household did not qualify as wealthy. Much later, I learned that my mother likely had Persistent Depressive Disorder, experiencing sporadic periods of depression throughout her lifetime.
Unfortunately, it’s not something we ever discussed. Given that there is no one left to ask now, I suppose I’ll never know for certain.
If my mother did experience postpartum depression, that isn’t what it would have been called at the time. When I was born, society had barely progressed beyond the point of throwing women into mental institutions for “female insanity,” which (mostly male) gynecologists blamed on “diseased reproductive organs.” It wasn’t until 1994 that the “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders,” the standard guidebook published by the American Psychiatric Association, added postpartum depression as a formal medical diagnosis.
From Finnish director Hanna Bergholm comes “Nightborn,” a new fantasy horror film that explores postpartum anxiety through the lens of folklore and visceral ghastliness. “Nightborn” is Bergholm’s first English language film. It follows her 2022 debut feature film, “Hatching.” It is a harrowing deconstruction of a picture-perfect family that straddles the line between supernatural dread and over-the-top body horror. It is exquisitely unpleasant and vividly disturbing.
The story begins innocently enough with Saga (Seidi Haarla), a Finnish woman, and Jon (Rupert Grint), her English husband, dreaming about their future together. The newlyweds have left London behind and plan to start their perfect family in an idyllic wooded setting. They arrive at Saga’s grandmother’s house, deep in the Finnish forest. We learn that Saga spent much of her childhood in this place.
The house has been vacant for an unspecified amount of time — long enough for it to be in a shambles. The floorboards are rotted. The banister is badly damaged. They discover a tree growing in a bedroom Saga shared with her sister. Surrounding the house is a collection of old farm implements and metal scrap. Jon asks if it is a Finnish tradition to discard one’s rubbish in the surrounding forest.
After a quick inspection, Jon suggests that the house can be renovated, and they can raise their family there. They have already decided they want to have three children, and they don’t waste any time getting started. The couple wanders out into the forest and has sex amongst a lot of very creepy looking trees. This is a Brothers Grimm level unnamed dark forest, serving throughout the film as a symbol of the unknown, impending danger, and inescapable transformation.
Jump to nine months later, and Saga gives birth to their child. Any doubts about Bergholm’s willingness to lean into high-intensity graphic depictions of body horror should come to an abrupt end here, and in the subsequent breast-feeding scenes. Their son, whom they eventually name Kuura, raises eyebrows from the very start. Kuura is born covered in thick black hair. He cries in sunlight. He has questionable appetite urges.
Bergholm wisely employs narrative ambiguity for much of the film. Jon, the well-meaning but infuriatingly passive-aggressive father, becomes increasingly convinced that Saga is having an extreme postpartum response to pain and isolation. He feels that her rejection of their son — which she calls “it” — and her belief that it is unnatural is causing it to become a monster. At the same time, Bergholm is cunningly dropping hints that something supernatural may be at play. In some ways, the film maintains that uncertainty and vagueness all the way to the end. There’s no way to be certain that everything that happens isn’t part of an extreme postpartum psychosis episode.
At the same time, Bergholm is clearly tapping into Finnish folklore to offer a different explanation. Like many cultures, the region developed a tradition involving changelings, human-like creatures left as a substitute or replacement for a kidnapped human being. In Finland, the maahiset, mysterious, subterranean-dwelling elflike beings, were said to abduct a newborn baby and replace it with a vaihdokas.
The way the film blurs the line between a rational, psychological approach to the Saga’s tragic mental deterioration and the darker, more sinister interpretation to the downward spiral that shatters their marriage makes for compelling viewing. Overall, “Nightborn” is an intensely gory, engrossingly weird ride that leaves viewers feeling uncomfortable and apprehensive. Solid performances from both Grint and Haarla and the supporting cast. New parents may want to put off watching this until their kids are headed to college.
Come to think of it, maybe I was a changeling. It would explain a lot.
Lee Clark Zumpe is entertainment editor at Tampa Bay Newspapers, a Tomatometer-Approved Critic, and an author of short fiction. He can be reached by email at lzumpe@TBNweekly.com.