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Creating a widely approachable film about eating disorders is an onerous task. Bulimia and anorexia are subjects that come with a stigma, are often seen as solely relevant to females, and—when used in stories—can easily give the narrative a preachy, moralizing tone. It’s a precarious conceptual road but one that My Skinny Sister (2015) pulls off, largely due to its refreshing point of view.

The film focuses on two sisters: Katja, played by well-known Swedish pop star Amy Deasismont in her first acting role, and Stella, played by another newbie actress named Rebecka Josephson, the granddaughter of the late Swedish actor Erland Josephson. Katja is a beautiful, popular—and skinny—17 year-old figure skater with serious professional potential. She trains hard, lives a regimented life, and performs as well academically as on the ice. Her 12 year-old sister Stella idolizes Katja’s poised success and harbors a secret crush on their figure skating coach. She’s a chubbier girl who enjoys eating chips, lounging with friends, and doing typical kid stuff. She wants to be a disciplined athlete like her sister and pretends to be more mature than she is, deep down operating as a confused girl on the verge of adolescence, addled about the ideas of sex and romance and maturity, trying to figure out what they all mean.

Those recessed teenage woes are the heart of Stella’s character, and they are something everyone can comprehend. Stella frequently comes off as a Swedish companion to Abigail Breslin’s character in Little Miss Sunshine (2006)—the awkward young girl with identity issues coming to terms with herself and her family.

“The film is mostly shot at Stella’s eye level as she cowers perpetually in the shadow of scary adults and beanstalk teenagers,” Hollywood Reporter writes. “The restless, jittery handheld camera work by Moritz Schultheiss absolutely adores Josephson’s thick copper-colored tresses and comically stern features. Blessed with a freckled moon face that registers every tiny tremor of anguish and mischief, she is both convincingly awkward and winningly natural.”

Katja’s emotional state voraciously shifts throughout the film. Her interactions with Stella are full of sisterly love and giggling in one scene, then resentful and mean in the next. Stella catches on and discovers her sister has been hiding an eating disorder, and the consequences of the disease are rapidly becoming apparent.

From this moment on, the film’s point of view really holds its weight. While Katja is the one with the eating disorder, My Skinny Sister is Stella’s film. She carries the emotion of the piece, as everything is seen and felt through her perspective. When the girls’ parents pour over Katja and her great successes, we experience the emptiness Stella feels. When Stella stares wistfully at her sister gleefully floating across the ice, we feel her envy and her secret knowledge that she’s probably never going to be that skilled herself. And when Katja’s eating disorder is in full swing, forcing her to clamp her mouth shut tight at even the sight of a glass of water, the film sticks to examining the way it impacts the whole family—but mostly Stella.

As Variety observes, “Telling the story from Stella’s p.o.v. adds some fresh situations to the standard eating-disorder narrative, including a moral quandary for the younger girl: To whom does she most owe her loyalty? And when should personal promises be trumped by the possibility of personal harm?”

It’s easy to imagine that battle in the mind of a 12 year-old. Katja is Stella’s hero and the person she wants to be. When she asks Stella to not tell their parents, her allegiance is tested. Does she betray the demands of her sister, or does she do what she knows is right? She can’t imagine defying the person she loves, but not doing so scares her to death.

The film’s successful choice of point of view hinges on the performance of Rebekah Josephson. The first-time actress captivates from the first frame and perfectly captures the pain and destruction the disease inflicts on the whole family. Ultimately, it’s the narrative angle of telling the story of the anorexic’s sister that allows the film to sidestep common traps and engage the audience with fresh, raw emotion.