Based on Inga H. Sætre’s graphic novel “Fallteknikk (Fall Technique),” Ninjababy is a Norwegian comedy-drama that tells the hilarious and poignant story of Rakel Pedersen (Kristine Kujath Thorp), a graphic design school dropout who discovers she is six months pregnant. Too late to have an abortion, Rakel looks for someone who can adopt the sneaky baby of the title, all while imagining what the child (voiced by Herman Tømmeraas) would make of all of this, and having her for a mother.
For those unfamiliar with Scandinavian film/TV, the Nordic sense of humor can be crass and surreal in ways that will mortify even the most hardened fan of British and American comedy, and Ninjababy is no different: there is a lot of frank discussion of pooping, ejaculation, and orgasms, and the father of Rakel’s baby (Arthur Berning) is constantly referred to as “Dick Yesus” because of his sexual prowess (we do find out his real name, but he’s still credited as “Pikkjesus.”) What makes it funny is how every character takes these embarrassing moments in their stride, never drawing attention to them, to the point you feel like an inexperienced background extra who can’t contain their laughter.
The animation for Rakel’s imagination, which was provided by Inga Sætre herself, is effective, resembling whiteboard scribbles that have been transposed onto the real world. Ninjababy himself is a delightfully gangly creature who scurries across the picture, and there’s some particularly arresting moments where Rakel realizes how much her life is going to change, where kinetic lines pop out, accompanied by crackling sound effects, makes it feel like the film itself is developing stress fractures. There’s also an incredibly memorable moment rendered in mixed media, where Rakel worries about having sex while pregnant, making it even more graphic and outrageous to watch.
Some really absurd live-action moments complement the animation too, like a moment where Rakel meets her old one-night-stand, the aikido instructor Mos (Nader Khademi), and their explicit memories are transposed between their polite conversation. These bizarre moments are aided by the austere and low-key locations that emphasizes the streets and buildings of Oslo, making them feel more real, and inherently more awkward. There’s something really refreshing about how Ninjababy isn’t set in the countryside as well; so many Scandinavian productions emphasize the wonder and mystery of the fjords and forests, that they start to seem like tourism ads for Middle-earth, whereas Ninjababy‘s urban setting makes it feels familiar, like it could be unfolding in London or Chicago.
Ninjababy is particularly affecting in how it reflects the loneliness of a freelance occupation: apart from her roommate Ingrid (Tora Christine Dietrichson), her half-sister Mie (Silya Nymoen), and the men she’s slept with, Rakel doesn’t have any particularly close relationships, and it’s little wonder that she hallucinates her child speaking with her. There’s a standout scene where she sneaks into an adoption meeting, to get an insight into the kind of people who might raise her baby, and she really cannot stand these mostly middle-to-upper class couples, reinforcing her solitary nature, and how motherhood is not something she wants.
Another quietly impactful scene sees Mos inviting Rakel to a tabletop gaming session, where she finds herself talking to another introvert painting his figures. It felt especially profound thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic, after so many of us realized how much we take a simple conversation for granted, and how distractions like these prevent us from becoming burned out: perhaps if Rakel had taken time out from cartooning for more meaningful distractions than drinks, drugs and sex, then maybe her life wouldn’t have become such a mess.
(That’s not to say the film has a negative view of casual sex though: Rakel gives a really entertaining polemic about how women are expected to manage birth control, taking pills that make them “bipolar” and so on, while men are too lazy to get a vasectomy. It’s not subtle, but when supposedly first world countries are still trying to outlaw abortions, it’s an effective, necessary, and unfortunately very timely reminder of a basic truth.)
Ninjababy ends on a really emotional and moving note, as Rakel is forced to confront all of her fears about being a bad mother, and what being unaware of her pregnancy might’ve done to her baby. Kristine Kujath Thorp really shines here, as her character’s snarky shell falls away, and the terrifying anticipation of giving birth is conveyed in a manner that I’ve never seen in any other film about pregnancy. Similarly, the movie doesn’t end soon after Rakel gives birth, dedicating a fair amount of time to exploring the difficulty of those early days, which genuinely made me shed a tear. It’s for that reason and more that I found Ninjababy a genuinely unique experience, and wholeheartedly recommend you see it when you have the chance.
Ninjababy is now available to watch at select theaters in the UK, and to rent from Curzon Home Cinema. It will be released in the United States by Sorø Films at a later date.
