Anna Roller’s feature film debut, Dead Girls Dancing (2023), unfolds in an eerily deserted Italian village, reminiscent of a modern-day Marie Celeste. This setting serves as a fitting metaphor for the film itself – a coming-of-age story navigating well-trodden territory. While Dead Girls Dancing (2023) borrows elements from numerous predecessors, particularly those exploring teenage girls’ journeys into sexuality and friendship, it struggles to leave a lasting impression beyond its initial stylistic allure. Much like the transient presence of its young protagonists in the abandoned village, the film, despite fleeting moments of vibrancy, risks fading quickly from memory in a crowded genre.
We are introduced to German teenagers Ira (Luna Jordan), Ka (Noemi Liv Nicolaisen), and Malin (Katharina Stark) on their high school graduation day. The opening scene captures their contrasting personalities during a traditional school photo: Malin exudes feminine charm, Ka projects a rebellious energy, and Ira appears reserved and slightly uncomfortable in her formal dress, a stark contrast to her preferred boyish shorts and t-shirts throughout the rest of the film. Roller, alongside cinematographer Felix Pflieger, establishes a visually appealing aesthetic early on, showcasing sun-drenched and windswept scenes of youthful camaraderie as the trio embarks on a summer road trip to Italy in a cramped hatchback.
Resource constraints are a recurring theme, with the girls constantly seeking budget-friendly solutions, from camping to roadside sleeping in their car. After successfully negotiating free parking with a motel owner, the need for showers leads Ira to approach Zoe (Sara Giannelli), a young hitchhiker staying at the motel. Zoe agrees to share her bathroom, and an impromptu weed-smoking session results in a comical chase from the motel, ultimately leading to Zoe joining the group, transforming the threesome into a foursome. This is particularly significant for Ira, who displays a clear attraction to the enigmatic Zoe through furtive, admiring glances.
However, their journey takes an unexpected turn when a flat tire leaves them stranded on a remote hillside. Following the sound of church bells, the girls stumble upon an abandoned village, a seemingly idyllic paradise. Initially puzzled by the deserted nature of the village, they quickly embrace the liberating feeling of isolation, as Malin poetically declares, “the last people in the world.” They settle into a palazzo, complete with vintage décor and wardrobes filled with costumes, indulging in a fantasy of freedom and self-discovery. They resort to petty theft from a local minimarket for supplies, debating the ethics of their actions by considering leaving money for what they take, and supplement their provisions with stolen altar wine, fueling their burgeoning sense of independence and revelry.
At this juncture in Roller’s narrative for Dead Girls Dancing (2023), there is a palpable opportunity to delve into a darker, more surreal territory, reminiscent of “Virgin Suicides,” where the girls’ newfound autonomy could descend into a “Lord of the Flies”-esque scenario. Instead, the film retreats from this precipice. Even the budding romance between Ira and Zoe, and the subtle hints of jealousy from Ka, are handled with a surprising restraint and lack of depth. Compounding this, the supporting characters remain underdeveloped and somewhat self-absorbed. The tattoo on Ka’s shoulder, the Chinese character for “me,” serves as a fitting, if on-the-nose, illustration of this self-centeredness. As Dead Girls Dancing (2023) progresses, it becomes surprisingly plot-driven in its latter stages, opting to provide explanations for elements that might have been more impactful left ambiguous, diminishing the potential for a truly evocative and mysterious atmosphere.
Despite its title suggesting a more rebellious and transgressive narrative, Dead Girls Dancing (2023) ultimately presents a story that is smaller in scope and less daring than anticipated. While the performances are commendable, particularly Luna Jordan as Ira, the characters emerge from their experiences less as transformed young adults and more as somewhat naive teenagers who have perhaps taken a game of make-believe too far. Consequently, while Roller demonstrates a talent for crafting visually dynamic and youthful cinema through atmospheric sequences, the film’s prevailing perspective feels detached, aligned not with its young protagonists but with the mundane, adult world they are destined to rejoin. In conclusion, while Dead Girls Dancing (2023) showcases Roller’s potential, it ultimately misses the chance to fully capitalize on its intriguing premise and offer a more profound escape, remaining grounded in the ordinary world it initially sought to transcend.
