Turn Me On, Dammit! From Norway Our first glimpse of Alma (Helene Bergsholm), the hormonal 15-year-old heroine of "Turn Me On, Dammit!," is from above, as she masturbates ecstatically on her living-room floor. In her ear, the chipper voice of a phone-sex worker eggs her on - Alma is one of his regulars at Wild Wet Dreams - while the family dog watches impassively. More About This Movie New Yorker Films Helene Bergsholm as a hormone-crazed Norwegian teenager in "Turn Me On, Dammit!" Establishing its affectionately deadpan tone from the get-go, Jannicke Systad Jacobsen's low-key Norwegian comedy takes coming-of-age literally. Stuck in a back-of-beyond village where sheep outnumber humans, Alma dreams of escape from a turnip-factory future and crushes hard on Artur (Matias Myren), a dreamy choirboy whose eyes secretly follow her around school. But it's his penis that makes first contact, thrust unceremoniously against Alma's leg one day outside a village dance; and when Alma excitedly informs her friends of the crude advance, it is she who pays the social price. With its soft, bleached images and occasional detours into black-and-white stills, "Turn Me On," set in an unspecified recent past, has a gentle oddness as unforced as its performances and as inoffensive as its dialogue. Adapting Olaug Nilssen's novel, Ms. Systad Jacobsen is alive to the cruelties and quirks of adolescence - Alma's best friend, Sara (Malin Bjorhovde), tests the outside world by writing innocent letters to death-row inmates in Texas - and especially the sexual double standard. Sweet, brave Alma isn't out to frighten the sheep; she's just unashamed to admit that girls get horny too.