When Finnish-British filmmaker Mikko Mäkelä’s film “Sebastian” premiered at the 2024 Sundance Festival, he told Variety he wanted his movie to provide a “frank and honest portrayal of queer sexuality.” That’s surely enough to lure queer audiences – particularly gay male audiences, thanks to its gay male protagonist – with the promise of steamy onscreen sex, and his movie, now available on VOD platforms after a limited theatrical release, certainly delivers on it.
That, however, is only half (perhaps less) of what it’s all about, because, like its title character, it lives in two worlds at once.
In fact, “Sebastian” isn’t even his real name. He’s actually Max (Ruaridh Mollica), an aspiring writer who works a “survival job” at a literary magazine while working on his first novel – a “pseudo-memoir” chronicling a gay sex worker’s encounters with various clients. It’s not exactly “pseudo,” though; the experiences he writes about are real, gained by advertising himself on a website for gay escorts to obtain “research” for his book. The results are getting him noticed, and a publisher (Leanne Best) is interested in the completed manuscript – but he finds his focus being pulled away from his “real” life and deeper into the anonymous thrill of exploring his own sexuality in the safety of an assumed identity.
It’s not just his work that’s affected; among the other things that begin to suffer from his growing obsession are his relationships: with his co-worker and bestie, fellow aspiring writer Amna (Hiftu Quasem); with his conservative mother back in Edinburgh, who already disapproves of his lifestyle in faraway, hedonistic London; and to a much older client (Jonathan Hyde) with whom “Sebastian” has developed an unexpected emotional attachment. Most of all, it’s his own sense of identity that is caught in the conflict, as he tries to keep both sides of his double life together while preventing his whole world from falling apart.
It’s a story with a lot of irons on the fire – a quality it seems to share with the novel its protagonist is writing, much to the irritation of his would-be publisher. What begins as the saga of a fledgling male escort – we first meet Max during his first booking as “Sebastian,” after all, suggesting almost from the start that it is this persona that is our true protagonist – soon shifts into that of an ambitious-but-frustrated young author attempting to fuel his creativity through lived experience, laced with the ongoing thread of his own sexual awakening and self-acceptance. It even makes overtures toward an unexpected (and unorthodox) love story, before venturing down a darker path to become something of a cautionary tale, a warning against the dangers of leading a compartmentalized existence and allowing the gratification of one’s personal appetites to overshadow all the other facets of our lives. Along the way, it throws in some commentary about the tense dynamic between creative expression and commercialism in the arts, not to mention the reinforcement of stigma and negative attitudes around sex workers – and sex in general – through the perceptions and representations created by social traditions and popular culture.
This latter perspective might be the key to what is really at the heart of “Sebastian” all along, toward which Mäkelä’s screenplay hints with a description of Max’s work-in-progress as being about “the shame of being ashamed.” From the beginning, it is his own fear of being found out that becomes his greatest obstacle; far more than his reluctance to cross lines he’s been raised to respect, it’s the dread of having his reputation and his prospects shattered that causes him to waver in his path – and that feeling is not unfounded, which is in itself a telling indicator that the power of social judgment is a very real force when it comes to living our authentic lives. Indeed, his personal taboos are quick to fall away as he pursues his undercover “research”, but the guilt he feels about being caught in a social position perceived as “beneath” his own is something he cannot shrug off so easily. With so many generations of religious and societal dogma behind them, such imperatives are hard to ignore.
Yet, there’s yet another aspect of “Sebastian” to discuss, that, while it is self-evident in the very premise of Mäkelä’s movie, might be easy to overlook in the midst of all these other themes. A story about someone pretending to be someone else is inherently about deception, and Max, regardless of his motives, is a deceiver. He deceives his clients to obtain the material for his writing, and he deceives his employers and his publisher about where he gets it; he deceives the people closest to him, he deceives potential romantic partners – but more than anyone else, he deceives himself.
It’s only by becoming honest with oneself, of course, that one can truly find a way to reconcile the opposing sides of our own nature, and that is the challenge “Sebastian” sets up for its protagonist, no matter which name he is going by in the moment. Whether or not he meets it is something we won’t spoil, but we’ll go as far as saying that a breakthrough comes only when Max is forced by circumstance to follow his instincts and “get honest” with someone – though we won’t tell you who.
In the end, “Sebastian” satisfies as a character study, and as a journey of self-acceptance, largely thanks to a charismatic, layered, thoroughly authentic performance from Mollica, a Scots-Italian actor of tremendous range who convincingly captures both sides of Max’s persona and transcends them to create a character that incorporates each into a relatable – if not always entirely likable – whole. Mäkelä’s steady, clear-eyed direction helps, as does the equally dignified and vulnerable performance from veteran character actor Hyde, whose chemistry with Mollica is as surprising as the relationship they portray in the film.
Even so, “Sebastian” suffers from the many balls it attempts to keep in the air. Though it aims for sex-positive messaging and an empathetic view of sex work, it often devolves into the kind of dramatic tropes that perpetuate an opposite view, sending mixed messages about whether it’s trying to diffuse old stereotypes or simply reinvent them for a modern age of “digital hustlers.” Further, in its effort to offer an unfiltered presentation of queer sexuality, it spends perhaps a bit more screen time than necessary showing it to us as explicitly as possible while omitting all but a glimpse of full-frontal nudity, but just enough to conjure the word “gratuitous.”
Don’t get us wrong, though; Mäkelä’s movie – only his second feature film effort to date – is an engaging, sexy, and ultimately thought-provoking ride, even if its tangled ambitions sometimes get the better of its narrative thrust, and it comes with our recommendation.
It’s just that, one of these days, we’d really like to see a movie where sex work is honestly portrayed as a job, just like any other – but I guess we’ll have to wait until society is ready for it before we get that one.
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