Sebastian Review
Sebastian arrives at a time when sex work is a hot topic in cultural circles. Recently, we had Sean Baker’s multi-Oscar-winning Anora in which Mikey Madison’s titular character continually defies her glib labelling as a prostitute. However, that’s where the comparisons between the two films should end. Whereas Anora gleefully cartwheeled into an amusing albeit truthful story of escalating chaos, Sebastian is a much quieter, more introspective affair. Directed by Mikko Mäkelä, it’s anchored by an impressive breakout turn from Ruaridh Mollica and steadily reveals itself as a study of a divided soul.
Mollica plays Max, a queer, London-based writer who freelances at a literary magazine. Max wants to fashion a successful career as an author and is encouraged by his sympathetic colleague, Amna (Hiftu Quasem). To that end, he’s developing an authentic novel about sex work and has set up the alias ‘Sebastian’, via which he can experience physical liaisons with men free from reprisal. However, as the book develops, the lines inevitably become blurred. What then transpires is an arresting story of transaction versus lust. Can Max be sure that physical intimacy is purely for research, or is he tapping into repressed desire? It’s later established that he’s distant from his family in Scotland, although exact details are left for us to piece together.
Mollica’s compelling performance is at once unreadable and sympathetic. An especially cutting moment sees Max surprised at being invited into group sex, something he’s not comfortable with. On his way out the door, he is drawn back into the fold by a text message that fuels his avaricious need to convert the experience into prose. The sex scenes are appreciably lusty and forthright, something that distinguished Mäkelä’s relationship drama A Moment in the Reeds (2017). There’s also a sense of honesty: late on, an act of sexual violence lays bare the perils of the industry that Max is exposing himself to. Mäkelä’s direction is languorous and sensual, a world of deep shadow and sleek private enclaves through which Max journeys in his quest to discover himself.
If there are issues, they come from the script. Early on, Max is assigned by his magazine editor to interview the author Bret Easton Ellis. Given Max’s queer identity, it’s decided that he is best positioned to interview the transgressive and controversial Ellis, prompting a colleague to snidely comment, “I thought this was about quality journalism, not optics.” Such on-the-nose dialogue strikes a clumsy chord. Later on, this opportunity is snatched away from Max, which is presumably meant to underline the potentially interesting optics versus sexuality angle. In reality, this tangent has so little bearing on the wider narrative that one wonders why it’s set up in the first place.
As the film proceeds, the Pirandello-esque subtext also threatens to become heavy-handed. Is Sebastian reading the story, or is the story reading him? Such themes are helpfully underlined, or rather insisted upon, during an expository conversation with a prospective book editor who resists the layers of empathy that Max is grafting onto his novel. What started as a clinical academic analysis is steadily becoming more autobiographical.
This is prompted by Max’s slow-burning relationship with ageing academic Nicholas (an excellent Jonathan Hyde) who sees in Max an echo of a queer love affair from his youth. These scenes are the highlights of the film, forming a quietly emphatic conduit between past and present, love and regret. Throughout, Mollica keeps us invested with his still waters run deep portrayal of a young man torn between materialism and emotional truth.
★★★★
In UK cinemas on April 4th / Ruaridh Mollica, Jonathan Hyde, Hiftu Quasem, Ingvar Sigurdsson, Lara Rossi, Stella Gonet / Dir: Mikko Mäkelä / Peccadillo Pictures / 18
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