Blue my Mind

A Monstrous Metamorphosis in a World That Demands You Conform...

...Becoming a Silent Scream.

Swiss cinema is rising its popularity and storytelling and rarely has been so raw, bold, and emotionally devastating. In “Blue My Mind,” this unflinching gaze takes the form of mythic body horror—a genre Switzerland rarely touches, and even more rarely masters.

It feels as though we’ve finally hit the fast-forward button, telling stories that have long been waiting for the space to emerge. Switzerland isn’t just the economic haven that the world likes to tell. It’s a real country (for those who still joke that it doesn’t exist) with real struggles.

It’s not just mountains, cheese, and the illusion of an idyllic life. That image is as curated as it is misleading. As a Swiss person, I can assure you: the reality here is far more complex.

It’s exhausting having to explain what it truly feels like to grow up in a place that demands so much from its citizens, yet rarely gives them the freedom to question or rebel.

“Blue My Mind”—2017 debut feature of Helvetic director Lisa Brühlmann—might appear, on the surface, like just another teen drama, one of many films about the desperate longing to be liked or to fit in.

But this film struck a personal chord. I saw myself in it. I saw the silent, internal chaos of teenagehood in a country that doesn’t quite own its culture or roots.

The early classroom scene, in which a teacher prompts a discussion about national identity, articulates this dissonance brilliantly.

The film owes much to the body-horror and raw emotional drama of “Amateur Teens,” “Thirteen,” “Raw,” and “Dans ma Peau,” exploring bodily transformation as a metaphor for emotional and social alienation.

The protagonist’s metamorphosis is not incidental—it’s mythic, primal. While Switzerland is landlocked, mythological sea creatures haunt its collective subconscious. Their presence in the film is anything but accidental.

Growing up here often means not knowing where you truly belong. We’re a people of borrowed languages and fragmented heritage.

In Switzerland, there are four national languages, which creates a beautifully complex yet alienating communication landscape.

You don’t fully belong to Land of the Alps, nor to the country your mother tongue connects you to. Finding yourself is no easy task in a place that offers limited room for experimentation.

Things may be slowly changing, but historically, the pressure to conform to a polished social façade has been overwhelming. That’s not a Swiss prerogative of course—but here, it cuts deeper than many realise.

I won’t spoil the plot, but the use of transformation as a narrative device is deliberate and potent. It’s a scream beneath the surface—one that many of us have felt but never managed to express.

The title itself—“Blue My Mind”—is more than a clever turn of phrase. It’s a colloquialism that captures the sensation of something so shocking, so unexpected, that it leaves you emotionally undone.

And that’s precisely what the film achieves. It leaves you rattled. Changed. Seen. Yourself.

Perhaps I’m reading too much of myself into this film. Perhaps I’m simply seizing a rare opportunity to see my environment—my own story—reflected onscreen.

But “Blue My Mind” is more than just an uterus-horror (a sub-genre that uses body-horror and coming-of-age themes to explore the female experience, particularly puberty, sexuality, and the anxieties surrounding these topics).

It’s a quietly radical Swiss film that dares to speak the truth about identity, adolescence, and the quiet violence of conformity. And for that, it deserves to be seen.

Even outside Switzerland, “Blue My Mind” resonates with anyone who has felt trapped by cultural expectation, social alienation, or the violent beauty of youth.

It’s a universal scream cloaked in a very specific silence—and in that paradox, it finds its power.