In a world where privacy is increasingly eroded, Fine Girl is a timely and powerful statement on the importance of boundaries, consent, and the fantasy of reclaiming power.
By Joseph Jonathan
In today’s digital age, privacy has become a privilege rather than a right. What was once normalised as an intrusion reserved for celebrities and public figures—having their photos or videos taken at will and sometimes plastered across social media—has now extended to everyone.
Today, you could simply be minding your business, and your image could end up as a meme, a viral post, or fodder for online harassment. The lines of consent have been blurred, and the act of capturing someone’s image without their permission has become disturbingly commonplace. Sometimes, the people who engage in this act may not have an intention to harm but does the absence of malicious intent make such actions any less invasive or justifiable?
Written and directed by Fatimah Gimsay, Fine Girl tackles this pressing issue head-on, weaving a darkly comedic narrative that explores the consequences of privacy violations and the fantasy of female rage and retribution. Through its 12-minute runtime, the film delivers a critical commentary on modern-day harassment, the male gaze, and the consequences of violating boundaries.
The film’s premise—a man taking unsolicited photos of a woman in his estate — mirrors countless real-life scenarios where individuals have had their images captured and shared without consent, often leading to unintended and devastating consequences.
From women whose photos have been stolen and shared in incel forums to unsuspecting individuals whose lives have been upended by viral memes, the violation of privacy is a pervasive issue in the digital era.
Fine Girl doesn’t just highlight the problem; it dares to ask what happens when the wrong person becomes the target of such intrusion. Through its sharp storytelling and unsettling tension, the film serves as both a cautionary tale and a cathartic exploration of boundaries, consent, and the fantasy of reclaiming power in a world where privacy is increasingly under threat.
The film opens with Nosa (Obehi Aburime), a charming yet unsettling man who seems to embody the archetype of the “harmless admirer”. His playful demeanour and confident smile initially mask his intrusive behavior as he photographs a woman, referred to only as Fine Girl (Martha Orhiere), without her consent.
The tension builds as Nosa’s actions escalate, revealing a disturbing sense of entitlement masked by his charisma. His use of the phrase “Fine Girl” as a condescending compliment emphasises the casual objectification women face daily, even when it’s dressed up as flattery.
What sets Fine Girl apart is its ability to subvert traditional storytelling tropes. The film takes a somewhat supernatural turn, transforming what could have been a straightforward cautionary tale into a darkly comedic thriller. Fine Girl, who remains enigmatic throughout the film, becomes an avatar for female resistance.
Her response to Nosa’s invasion of privacy is both satisfying and symbolic, serving as a cathartic release for anyone who has ever felt powerless in the face of harassment. The lack of gore or overt horror elements doesn’t diminish the impact; instead, the slow, deliberate retribution feels more chilling and realistic.
Gimsay’s direction is masterful in its subtlety. The film doesn’t rely on shock value or explicit violence to make its point. Instead, it uses tension and humour to explore the broader implications of privacy violations in the digital age. The film’s critique of incel culture and the weaponisation of technology against women is particularly timely, making Fine Girl a poignant reflection of contemporary societal issues.
The performances are another standout element. Obehi Aburime’s portrayal of Nosa is both charming and repulsive, capturing the duality of men who use their charisma to mask predatory behaviour.
Martha Orhiere exudes a quiet strength that makes Fine Girl a compelling figure. Her mysterious presence lingers long after the film ends, leaving viewers to ponder her backstory and the broader implications of her actions.
While the film’s brevity leaves some questions unanswered, it also amplifies its impact. The open-ended nature of Fine Girl’s character invites viewers to project their own experiences onto her, making her a shared symbol of resistance. The film’s ending, though understated, is deeply satisfying, offering a fantasy of retribution that feels both empowering and cathartic.
Fine Girl is more than just a short film; it’s a cultural critique wrapped in a darkly comedic thriller. Gimsay’s ability to blend humour, tension, and social commentary into a concise narrative is a testament to her skill as a filmmaker.
The film serves as a reminder that harassment is not just about overt acts of violence but also the subtle, everyday violations of privacy and autonomy that women endure. It’s a must-watch for anyone interested in stories that challenge societal norms and offer a fresh perspective on the complexities of gender dynamics in the modern world.
In a world where privacy is increasingly eroded, Fine Girl is a timely and powerful statement on the importance of boundaries, consent, and the fantasy of reclaiming power.
Rating: 3/5
Joseph Jonathan is a historian who seeks to understand how film shapes our cultural identity as a people. He believes that history is more about the future than the past. When he’s not writing about film, you can catch him listening to music or discussing politics. He tweets @JosieJp3.