There’s something so compelling about seeing someone’s debut, whether they’re behind the camera or appearing in front of it – and when that person is nothing short of an icon, there’s an added level of curiosity to the work that gave them the necessary leap into the industry. There are few performers more acclaimed or important to arthouse cinema that Liv Ullmann, an actress who has done nearly everything that could be done, to the point where she is almost entirely representative of the art of cinema as a whole, most notably for her numerous collaborations with her professional and romantic partner, Ingmar Bergman, who fashioned Ullmann as not only one of his most significant muses, but also as an equal collaborator, their films often finding them on equal keel in both the stories being told, and the manner in which they were made. However, her film debut is one that resides in relative obscurity, which is a tremendous shame, since everything that made her such a great actress is still very much present here. The Wayward Girl (Norwegian: Ung Flukt) is a remarkable film, an intimate and quiet little comedy hailing from one of Norway’s endlessly fascinating filmmakers, Edith Carlmar, who has the distinction of being the first and arguably most important female director, who was making a living as a journeyman actress to support her own passion projects, in a time when cinema was still very much considered an arena dominated by male filmmakers. This is not a major work, but it remains up to the viewer to determine if this is because the film simply isn’t all that impressive, being a charming but otherwise slight comedy of manners, or if it is because it simply never found an audience. Previously not as accessible as some of the more notable films Ullmann made in subsequent years, but now the subject of a stunning restoration, there has never been a better time to marvel in the brilliance that is The Wayward Girl, a truly entertaining and thought-provoking film.

The film follows a familiar formula – two star-crossed lovers decide to run away together after their families disapprove of their relationship. They find their home in a small countryside cabin, without any amenities, depending on the fruits of the land, and a resourcefulness that they had never needed prior to leaving the city to take up residence in the wilderness. Over the course of a number of weeks, the pair begin to feel the twangs of isolation, especially since they haven’t found a single other soul around them, a prospect that used to be idyllic to them when making their bold escape, but which has come to be an enormous burden on the two young lovers, who are anxiously awaiting for the other to fall apart so they may return to normality. On a conceptual level, The Wayward Girl isn’t particularly special, since it employs many known conventions in its endeavour to be as romantic as it possibly can, while balancing comedy and drama in equal measure. Carlmar’s intentions here were certainly not to reinvent the art form, nor was it to abandon all sense of what makes these kinds of films compelling – instead, she handcrafted a delightfully irreverent comedy about two young people realizing that love isn’t all one needs to sustain themselves. We too often hear young couples claim that they don’t want anything in the world other than the presence of their significant other – and while this is certainly an ideal concept, it’s absurdly utopian and simply can’t be maintained, at least not on its own. The Wayward Girl very cleverly provokes these conversations without being mean-spirited or obtuse in any way, instead choosing to go about weaving a story that is entertaining, but still very meaningful, particularly once we start to uncover the layers of commentary that gradually make themselves evident as the story progresses and we get to know these characters.

These character-driven aims of The Wayward Girl are helped considerably by the two star-making performances given by the pair of leads. It tends to be difficult to separate the young, impressionable Ullmann from the film iconoclast she was on the precipice of becoming (and regardless of how much we try, it’s almost impossible to divorce her performance from her reputation as one of the finest actresses to ever work in the medium), but even with the previous knowledge of how she’d flourish as a performer, it’s easy to see why she became such a star. No one can command the screen quite like her – she’s elegant but very much salt-of-the-earth, having a homeliness that contrasts very sharply with her incredible sophistication, allowing her to play all sides of the character, constructing Gerd as a remarkably feminine young lady who gradually loses her grasp on city life as she becomes more feral and wild while being immersed in the wilderness. This is a daring performance from Ullmann, who may not be subjecting herself to the harrowing psychological minutiae of her future collaborations with Bergman, but still brings the same spirited commitment to the role, making it far more than just portraying a mindless young woman lost in the countryside. What’s quite fascinating about The Wayward Girl is that one half of the central duo would go on to become one of the most important figures in European cinema, while the other half, Atle Merton, is entirely obscure by comparison. A young actor who would move away from the profession less than a decade after this film, his presence here is interesting – he’s just as strong as Ullmann, playing the daring boyfriend who puts his girlfriend through some challenging situations, all to test both her love for him, as well as his undying devotion. They make for a captivating pair, and while Merton walked around from the industry, The Wayward Girl demonstrates what an incredible talent he was in his own right.

The message lurking beneath The Wayward Girl isn’t clear at first, but it gradually unravels as the film goes on, showing how it isn’t just a mindless romantic comedy, but a scathing social critique disguised in the form of a quaint story of exploring the countryside. There’s a viscerality to this film, which comes in the form of the two main characters going from bourgeois city-dwellers, to animalistic recluses, spending their days hunting and frolicking through the overgrown wilderness (often sans clothing, as a few of the more humorous moments of the film demonstrate), and slowly losing their grip on reality. The days blend together, and they begin to lose track of time – their only means to keep sane comes in the presence of one another, and then the eventual introduction of an enigmatic stranger (played incredibly by            Rolf Søder, who makes for a formidable villain), who then threatens to tear them apart with his seductive nature, which in actuality simply just the ability to remind them of their lives before they ran away to become essentially hermits, distant from all civilization, which they learn is far from as ideal as they imagined it to be. The film comments on a number of very stark topics, going above and beyond its often trivial premise, exploring the human psychology through a striking blend of darkly comical satire and some very shocking thrills that leave us rivetted and perhaps even somewhat taken aback, frightened by the sense of danger lurking beneath the film. The Wayward Girl isn’t a horror at all, but it has an atmosphere of the unknown that causes the characters to slowly lose their sanity, leading to them questioning the boundaries between imagination and reality.

Discovering a hidden gem is always a wonderful experience – and considering this is a film that is almost entirely absent from any meaningful discussion into Ullmann’s work, despite being her debut (other than previously working as an extra in Carlmar’s previous film), there is a sense of urgency for anyone who is adherent to the esteemed actress to seek it out, since it is quite an extraordinary performance. Demonstrating the same incredible elegance as her later performances, but with a more raw and intense quality that comes mostly from her youth and inexperience, which is harnessed beautifully in this film. The Wayward Girl doesn’t promise to be anything other than a charming comedy with a very acidic edge, and through her incredible restraint behind the camera, Carlmar manages to find the humanity in a story about two people beginning to question their own. There are some notably unforgettable moments in this film, which separates it from many romantic comedies, since it is hinting at something much deeper and more intimidating than we could possibly imagine based on a cursory glance at the film. Therefore, through its commitment to an absurd premise, which is rendered beautifully simple through the director’s assured guidance, and a pair of incredible performances that feel authentic and brimming with a youthful energy, The Wayward Girl is an absolute triumph, and a film that should be actively sought out, since it is one that is patiently waiting to be discovered all over again, with modern audiences likely set to glean more from this film than they could possibly imagine.