‘Little Trouble Girls’ review: tantalizing Slovenian Oscar submission

Taking its English title from a Sonic Youth song, Little girls in difficulty is, from its first provocative image to its final, affectionate close-up, an intoxicating communion of the earthly and the angelic.

Focusing on an introverted student who joins her school choir and falls under the spell of a more adventurous girl, director Urška Djukić deftly blends the sacred feminine and the precociousness of 17 years old. She begins the film with a lingering close-up of a medieval artist’s rendering of Christ’s wound, a vulvar illustration if ever there was one and a fitting opening spark for this unpredictable drama. With superb performances across the board, particularly from his two young leads, and an adventurous use of visual and audio elements, Djukić has conjured up a beguiling fusion of spiritual awakening and adolescent confusion.

Jara Sofija Ostan plays 16-year-old Lucia, who has a sad, distant look in her eyes and, on her first day in the girls’ choir at her Catholic school, a hesitant attitude. Despite the idiotic conductor (Saša Tabaković), there is a rarefied air in the rehearsal room, and Lucia is sensitive to it. But the discovery that leaves her mesmerized is that of Ana-Maria (Mina Švajger), a fellow alto in lipstick who arrives in a whirlwind of alpha-girl self-confidence. Lucia’s mother (Nataša Burger), attentive and caring but strict as unhappy people tend to be, forbids her from wearing makeup. She wants her daughter to come out of her shell, but only so far.

Most of the film takes place during the choir’s three days of intensive rehearsal at an Ursuline convent across the Slovenian border, in Cividale del Friuli, Italy. The bus ride there draws Lucia deeper into the fold of Ana-Maria, a clique whose other members are Klara (Staša Popović) and Uršula (Mateja Strle). They’re trained hands on this annual weekend excursion, but Lucia is fascinated everywhere she looks: the unfamiliar countryside, the Devil’s Bridge, the naked man (Mattia Cason) sunbathing on the banks of the river.

It turns out he is one of the workers renovating the convent. The noise of their machines in the yard bothers the driver. For girls, however, men add an element of intrigue to the cloistered setting. Noticing a handsome, dark-haired worker and Lucia’s attention to him, Ana-Maria impulsively commits an affectionate prank that leads to a pivotal scene between the two girls, an exchange that touches on sin and mischief with the deft blend of conciseness and physical punch that defines Djukić and Maria Bohr’s screenplay.

During the brief but transformative hours of the journey, Ana-Maria’s inviting warmth gives way to something provocative, and her playful smile takes on a witchy quality, Lev Predan Kowarski’s camera alerting changing moods. As welcoming as they are at first, Ana-Maria and her minions gradually reveal their wicked inclinations. At least they won’t have Lucia. “Are you looking at the olive tree? Klara asks with a condescending smirk when she catches her daydreaming outside their dorm window. A nighttime game of truth or dare unfolds as an opportunity for the three friends to grill the inexperienced Lucia, and the sequence culminates in a moment as sublime as it is surprising — for the girls and the audience.

Later, a conversation with a nun (Saša Pavček) about celibacy and commitment to God provokes mocking disbelief in Ana-Maria and awakens in Lucia a new awareness, an appreciation of the non-physical aspects of life. At the same time, the trip’s profusion of sensory stimulation leaves her hot and bothered, and unsure whether she is sexually attracted to her new friend or seduced.

Through the observant eyes of his clumsy but graceful protagonist, Djukić weaves a story in which nothing earth-shattering happens but every moment is charged with elemental power and possibility. The director and her cinematographer capture the light of summer as it bathes the characters but also through bold montages of vibrant flowers, lively close-ups of sexual energy and feminine symbolism. Another flourish is the choir’s voices, intertwined and transcendent in renditions of Bach and Slovenian folk tunes. (On-screen performers sang all of the carols in the film, under the direction of Jasna Žitnik.) Whispered musings are another element of the sound design and are mostly indecipherable (or untranslated), except for the repeated phrase “Sound is light,” a declaration of synesthesia that subtly permeates the film.

Even as Djukić celebrates the united voices of girls, Little girls in difficulty This is ultimately about a sensitive soul finding a different kind of harmony, one that doesn’t demand conformity. During a rehearsal, the conductor becomes belligerent as he mocks a distracted Lucia. “Where are you?” he asks. In this moment, the adult man and the teenage girl each have unspoken reasons that have nothing to do with the music. It’s a psychologically brutal scene, one that builds to the film’s exquisite crescendo and grounded resolution, sequences that make clear that wherever Lucia is, it’s a place the conductor, Ana-Maria, and Klara could never imagine.