"You craved a child," echoed one voice. "Yet, not this particular one," came the stark reply. Imagine finding yourself in this bizarre dilemma: moments after giving birth, your newborn is whisked away, only to be returned later, but pause—is it still the same tiny bundle, or has it been replaced? How could you possibly ascertain? What words could encapsulate such a moment? This serves as the premise for "Mother's Baby," a devious, subtle, and enigmatic new thriller helmed by Austrian filmmaker Johanna Moder. Premiering in the Main Competition at the esteemed 2025 Berlin Film Festival, it stands tall among the year's finest offerings at Berlinale. I was utterly captivated by it, my thoughts often revisiting the screening.
Moder's "Mother's Baby" exudes an unsettling, creepy ambiance throughout. I was engrossed in the narrative, following Julia's footsteps, yearning for clarity amidst the baby's mystery and the eerie clinic's secrets. This film will resonate deeply with horror enthusiasts, mothers, and anyone who adores intelligent, meticulously crafted cinema. However, it might unnerve new mothers, much like its protagonist.
Written by Arne Kohlweyer and Johanna Moder, and directed by the latter as her third feature film, "Mother's Baby" stars Swiss-German actress Marie Leuenberger (also brilliant in the 2017 Swiss film "The Divine Order") as Julia, a successful conductor residing in Vienna. Her husband Georg is portrayed by Hans Löw. Desiring a child but needing assistance, they find themselves at a posh private fertility clinic headed by Dr. Vilfort, played with an unsettling calm and cool demeanor by Claes Bang. Post-birth, the baby is taken and returned a day later. But why? Was there an issue? Is it the very same child? While Georg returns to work, Julia stays home and starts noticing peculiarities. The baby scarcely ever wails or causes a commotion. Leuenberger's riveting lead performance propels the film; she neither overacts nor goes wild, Yet, she remains steadfastly rational, her legitimate anxieties about the possibility of her baby being substituted turbulently agitating her mind. Alas, as is all too often the case, no one lends her the credence she deserves. Why accord any heed to the musings of a woman, casually dismissed as mere ravings of madness? Perhaps she's the lone individual capable of comprehending and observing what's transpiring, while others merely wish for her to settle into her new role as a mother. I admire the film's perspective—crafted by women, about motherhood.
I also commend the filmmaking decisions and the meticulously executed performances. The film's enchantment stems from Leuenberger and Löw, alongside intriguing supporting roles by Julia Franz Richter as an odd midwife and her helpful neighbor. Unlike many American horror films that go overboard, this film maintains a calm and cool demeanor even as the plot grows stranger and more mysterious. At times, it veers into pulp territory, with sly humor and dark comedy that might elicit a chuckle or two. However, the audience at my screening seemed so uneasy throughout that few laughed. This physician is maddeningly macabre—utterly lacking in any endearing quality. Clearly, his intentions lean towards mischief... I find myself utterly unable to repose my trust in him. His arrogant demeanor makes it difficult to argue or challenge him. Nevertheless, the focus remains solely on Julia, and thankfully, it never attempts to villainize her. I've witnessed too many horror films where the central woman is portrayed through filmmaking decisions as confused, dangerous, and untrustworthy. But that's not the case here—Julia seems coherent, and her quest for answers is entirely justified. At times, this film reminds me of "Watcher" in its consistent demonstration of how she's not actually the crazy one.
From what I gathered, there's more to this film than meets the eye. It's not merely a tale of a woman's mind unraveling post-birth. In fact, I suspect the film's marketing might play up this angle to avoid deterring viewers or labeling it strictly as "horror," instead positioning it as another narrative about the challenges of motherhood. But if you delve deeper, observe every scene closely, or peel away the layers, you'll uncover something more. Colleagues who watched the film missed or disbelieved this underlying narrative. I'll save that discussion for another time—it's a conversation best had in private, sans spoilers. This idea reinforces my belief that the film actually aims to comment on how a mother indeed knows best, emphasizing the importance of trusting a mother's instincts instead of ignoring them. And for once, it's refreshing to witness such a theme in a mysterious thriller like this. "A mother knows best," indeed.
