Hatching

An eerie Finnish horror flick about a tween girl who hatches herself a bird-like companion from an egg, an effective parable on puberty.

It’s been said that horror films are often about something else besides the violence — sex being the usual suspect.

All those randy teens being punished for their lascivious transgressions, meted out by a patriarchal, judging figure using various penetrating methods — the Freudian analysis practically writes itself.

(Hey, sometimes a machete is just a machete, Sigmund.)

So it’s intriguing to see scary movies that use the genre for something off the beaten path. In the case of “Hatching,” an eerie new flick from Finland, the allegory is about the pressures and anxiety that teens experience going through puberty — especially girls, who constantly feel the stigma that they’re not pretty or popular enough.

It’s directed by Hanna Bergholm from a script from Ilja Rautsi, and is available starting Friday on all the major VOD (video on demand) platforms.

Tinja (Siiri Solalinna) is about 13 years old, tall and thin and blonde, and an aspiring gymnast. Her family lives comfortably in the suburbs — I’m amazed how much they look just like their American counterpart — and their life is so idyllic, her mother actually makes a living running a video blog called “Lovely Everyday Life.”

You’ve seen these sorts of things on YouTube or TikTok: women acting as influencers to show you how to look, parent, cook and even romance just like them. Her mom (Sophia Heikkilä) is a typical demanding sports parent, a former skater who was injured before she could reach her full glory, and now channels all her hopes, dreams and obsessions into her kid.

Her husband (Jani Volanen) is the ultimate beta male, a bespectacled dweeb who seems to have no thoughts or opinions of his own, usually distracted with some hobby or another. His wife is the beloved star, and he’s a spectator in his own life.

When his wife leaves the room and he’s left alone with Tinja, the father (no name given, or needed) practically goes into a panic, unable to think of what to say or do. Their son, Matias (Oiva Ollila), is a bratty little mini-me who enjoys bothering his big sis.

Early on a raven intrudes on one of their picture-perfect photo sessions, smashing up mom’s glassware and ornate chandelier. Tinja manages to capture the bird and is shocked when her mother snaps its neck. She puts the carcass in the trash, but is surprised to later find the bird escaped, stumbling across it in the woods in the midst of its death throes.

Tinja finds a small egg nearby; perhaps the bird was trying to get back to protect is offspring? She takes it home in hopes of hatching it, perhaps to make up for the pain her family inflicted. To her surprise, the egg itself continues to grown in size.

Meanwhile, her own life seems to be spinning off track. She’s not ready for the big gymnastics competition coming up, and is estranged from the other girls at school. A friendly new girl, Reeta (Ida Määttänen), moves in next door and the hope of her first true friendship is on hand. But her mom just sees another competitor who might make Tinja’s light shine less brightly.

Her mother even begins openly seeing Tero (Reino Nordin), a strapping handyman, with the blessing — or at least gutless surrender — of her husband.

The egg, now gargantuan, finally hatches and what comes out is truly a horror. It’s black and bird-like, seeming to consist entirely of bone and feathers. Though it has vaguely human-like teeth and large, expressive eyes.

(Imagine one of the Skeksis from “The Dark Crystal” in larval form.)

Tinja is terrified at first and hides from the creature, but it returns and they eventually become friends. Its metamorphosis gradually continues, and it soon becomes clear the bird-girl, whom she names Alli after a lullaby her mother taught her, is spiritually connected to her.

That’s bad news, of course, for anyone who mistreats Tinja.

“Hatching” isn’t terribly subtle, but it is quite moody and effective. Tinja is good girl who’s been groomed to be the perfect little daughter, gymnast and clone of her mother — but anything about her that’s different is soon as wrong and something to be pushed down or cut out. Allie is essentially the physical manifestation of her maturation into a complex woman of her own making.

The CGI for the creature is better in small pieces than the whole, which looks a bit on the chintzy side. Alli resembles some wormy thing that dug itself up out of the earth rather than something capable of taking flight. She belongs with the maggots rather than on the wind.

That’s a pretty good description of adolescence, at least as it’s experienced by most of us. You have to crawl — and take risks that may hurt yourself, and others — before flying time comes.