Wetlands 2014

Helen is an 18-year-old with a rare pattern of mysophilia, using vegetables for masturbation and arguing that body hygiene is overrated in society. She pushes boundaries through provocative statements and actions that others would hardly dare to consider, and she pursues sexual exploration, including a visit to a brothel to experience being with another woman. This fearless, taboo-challenging streak sets the tone for a life marked by seeking connection in unconventional ways.

Her home life is fractured: her parents are divorced, and each parent embodies a different strain of disconnect. mother is depressive, hygiene-obsessed, and emotionally volatile, while her father comes across as insensitive and largely oblivious to the feelings and concerns of those around him. She also has a quiet younger brother whom she teases by taking his stuffed bear, a small act that underscores the distance she feels from the family she longs to belong to.

Amid this turbulence, Corinna stands by her. The two friends share a close bond and a mutual willingness to defy social norms, providing a sense of refuge in a world that feels unpredictable and cold at times. Their camaraderie fuels a sense of daring and independence, pushing Helen to confront the rules she has long challenged and to explore aspects of her identity that others might shy away from.

A hospital visit becomes a turning point. After shaving her anal hair too quickly and injuring herself, Helen ends up in care where she hopes to influence her family dynamics. There, she encounters a handsome nurse, Robin, who is entangled with another nurse from two years past. This complicated dynamic introduces tension at the hospital as the rival nurse resents Helen and remains fixated on Robin. Despite the friction, a genuine connection develops between Helen and Robin during the stay, and their bond grows into something deeper and more intimate.

The film gradually reveals that Helen’s behavior stems from a deeply buried trauma. At eight years old, she witnessed her mother attempting to take her own life and threaten her little brother using the oven’s gas. This haunting memory explains, at least in part, why she gravitates toward extreme acts and taboo topics as a way to process pain and seek control over a world that once seemed dangerous and overwhelming. As the story unfolds, Helen finally talks to her little brother about that moment—the hardest conversation she has ever had—and the act of sharing seems to mark a step toward healing, even as the path remains fraught with emotional peril.

In the closing moments, Helen finds herself in Robin’s van, leaving the hospital behind. She sees her parents meeting in the parking lot, a fragile sign that their relationship might be mending at last. With a quiet resolve, she asks Robin to keep driving, a small, hopeful gesture that signals her willingness to move forward and face the future with someone who understands her scars and her strength. The film culminates in ambiguity and possibility, balancing the ache of past traumas with the tenderness of new connections and the sense that, even in a fractured family, change is possible.