Solomamma

Bluesky

Solomamma is a quietly gripping and emotionally astute drama from Norwegian director Janicke Askevold. It stakes its claim as a thoughtful meditation on motherhood, identity, and the moral grey zones of modern life.

Convinced she can build a coherent and self-determined life for herself and her son, Edith (Lisa Loven Kongsli) has chosen single motherhood via anonymous sperm donation. But when she unexpectedly learns the identity of the donor – Niels (Herbert Nordrum) – curiosity leads her to approach him under the guise of an interview, keeping their biological tie a secret. The encounter sets off an emotional chain reaction of deceit, discovery, and moral unease.

Askevold’s refusal to offer easy answers is compelling. Edith is neither hero nor anti-hero but a flawed, introspective woman struggling to make sense of her choices. Her motivations swing between maternal care, curiosity, and desire for connection. The film doesn’t ask viewers to judge, but to inhabit Edith’s world and feel the tension she lives with.

Kongsli delivers a nuanced performance. She conveys strength, vulnerability, guilt and longing, often in a single glance. Niels is more reserved, distant. Their dynamic gradually shifts from polite social roles to something far more ambivalent. The cinematography and production design also deserve mentioning: interiors, lighting, and framing evoke the minimalist aesthetic of Scandinavian cinema – clean lines, naturalistic spaces, muted color palettes, which echo Edith’s internal restraint and growing unrest.

Certain story developments feel slightly contrived, particularly the way Edith engineers her meetings with Niels under false pretenses. There are moments when the additional plot elements threaten to overshadow the emotional truths the film is trying to excavate. A few scenes flirt with dramatic excesses or awkward tonal shifts that jar the overall flow. Solomamma shines in its quieter moments: the silence after revelations, Edith’s hesitations, the subtle body language between characters.

There are also moments where the tonal balance between ethical reflection, relational tension, and emotional catharsis are off the mark: some audiences may wish for more payoff, or more decisiveness in resolution; others will appreciate the ambiguity. Whether that is a flaw or a strength depends very much on what you want from a character-driven drama.

Solomamma is a second feature that shows a confident director willing to trust emotional resonance over spectacle. It’s not an easy film; it asks tough questions about parenthood in the 21st century, about what we owe to others, and what we owe ourselves.

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