Real-life horror of one’s own body is the most insidious kind of body horror at play here, though James’ film offers a measure of the gorily fantastical stuff too. Sure enough, the pounds start falling off, at a rate that concerns the increasingly interested Alanya. That “Bertha” is only visible to Hana in spoons and other such concave reflective surfaces is a neat, witty visual touch. “Saccharine,” for its part, does much to deglamorize its gaze, beginning with the scuzzy lighting and seasick palette of DP Charlie Sarroff’s lensing. It all amounts to a kind of anti-ASMR — if anything, you leave “Saccharine” craving some sensory underload.