Reflection on the student film My Own Body (Katica Kozma, 2024)
If one were to define an eating disorder based on sound, they would most likely know or at least imagine how bulimia or binge eating sounds. But what about anorexia? What does the absence of food and the act of eating sound like? Hungarian student director Katica Kozma presents her audience with multiple scenes of a young anorexic man, Laci, gulping down several bottles of water and, a few scenes later, a girl, Maja, slowly but loudly peeling a tangerine. For people who suffer from eating disorders, consuming food is an intense sensual experience in every way, and the director transmits this intensity in her film. In My Own Body, even the chewing of a fresh, juicy tangerine on screen felt more borderline than chewing a beef steak in real life. Whether having sensory issues or not, the audience is subjected to sensing it all.
When one watches films whose main theme is focused on anorexia, one would usually expect to have a female lead in it. However, this director does it differently: she first puts the male protagonist on the screen and only then does she give us clues about the disorder. I caught myself holding stereotypical expectations: even though I am familiar with the practice of overhydrating to quickly raise the number on the scale, I did not realize that this was the case. But did the film change my perspective on this? In the discussion after the screening, Kozma elaborated on why she had chosen to have a male lead character. Her ambition was to break the social stigma that eating disorders are only connected to a beauty standard. This film was not about the idea of beauty; it was about discipline. However, unfortunately, breaking the stigma around eating disorders does not equal breaking gender stereotypes – it felt like a missed chance to tell something more. To present discipline, there is no need to make it masculine only.
One of the first thoughts that came to mind was that the main character lacks depth. No excitement, no ambitions, just hunger. Relationships with his loved ones were secondary. In addition to losing weight, the main character was losing identity, and the director translated this brutal message into a whisper that at first seemed like a script problem but became a profound statement about people with eating disorders. After the screening, the director divulged that she had also once struggled with an eating disorder, underlining the short film as a deeply personal expression.
But why would this young man want to do something so harmful to his body? What is the point of harming oneself by not eating? Much of this is revealed in the biblical scene in which Maja offers Laci a freshly picked tangerine before his mother enters the scene. The dynamic changes and all the characters in the scene, and consequently the viewers as well, know who is in charge of Laci’s life. If control is exerted over a person, they want to control something that no one else can. And their body is something that is ultimately theirs. Maja appears to be a (not so) perfect stranger who arrives, sways with the wind and departs. But her expressions of love and attraction for Laci have a seemingly positive effect on him. However, his mother refuses to accept any of it. All of this is implied in slow, hypnotic shots of the three characters in their conflict. It could be said that nothing happens to them. However, their small actions are full of suggestions, and this seems to be a most potent tool in student films about anorexia.