Sebastian

 

Writer/director Mikko Mäkelä

director on the set with Ruaridh Mollica and Hiftu Quasem

SEBASTIAN              B                                                                                                                Great Britain  Finland  Belgium  (110 mi)  2024  d: Mikko Mäkelä

Born in a small town in Finland close to the Russian border, whose homophobic parents sent him to gay conversion therapy, Mäkelä moved to England at the age of 18 to study English and French literature, also studying drama before he began his filmmaking career as an editor.  But what grabbed his attention in college was the realization that many of his gay peers, students and grads in creative fields, were involved in sex work, facilitated by apps, marketing themselves online without shame.  Listed as one of the 25 LGBTQ filmmakers on the rise by indieWIRE in 2019, following the success of his earlier film A MOMENT IN THE REEDS (2017), an intimate drama about the chance encounter of two men by the Finnish lakeside.  Mäkelä is most interested in exploring questions of identity, creating stories about marginalized characters at odds with society, particularly within the context of queer cinema, where this film blurs the boundaries between fiction and autobiography.  In that same vein, Max (Italian-Scottish actor Ruaridh Mollica, who brings a certain intensity to the role) is an aspiring 25-year old writer in London who has received plenty of early acclaim, having been published in Granta, now writing for a trendy literary magazine named Wall, mostly short stories and reviews, but he has aspirations for a novel that he is working on, discovering something every writer contends with, wondering how to separate the boundaries between truth and fiction.  Premiering at the 2024 Sundance Festival, the director articulated his desire to make a “frank and honest portrayal of queer sexuality.”  To that end he has succeeded, as apparently gay sex seems to be the only graphic sex that movies still allow anymore, as they’ve been seriously streamlined out of most motion pictures, especially after Covid.  Mäkelä does not shy away from unflinching sex scenes which serve to enhance the film’s realism, where it is actually surprising to see such a healthy exhibition of simulated sex, which adds an element of transparency when it comes to relationships, as there’s some things you just can’t hide.  Max is excited about the idea of being assigned to interview American queer icon Bret Easton Ellis, who published his first novel at 21, and is the author behind Mary Harron’s subversive, off-the-wall, consumerist horror satire American Psycho (2000), generating plenty of publicity about the autobiographical content in his books.  A more senior writer on staff at the magazine, James (Michael Jean-Marain), expresses disappointment he was not getting the assignment, challenging whether it is more about the quality of the writing or the one who actually writes it, but the editor, Claudia (Lara Rossi), wanted someone with personal first-hand experience into the gay perspective, believing Max would bring some fresh insight into it.   

The film is essentially about writing a “pseudo-memoir” about the life of a gay sex worker, which leads Max, under the alter-ego pseudonym Sebastian, to compile experiences secretly meeting with mostly older clients through an online gay escort service, blending his personal encounters with his literary ambitions, where the boundaries are distinctly clear at first, but are increasingly blurred.  What starts out as a few spontaneous sexual encounters leads to a hidden subterranean world, where sex is the key to unlocking the pressures of modern gay life, discovering a deeper sense of self, running through a gamut of emotions from ecstasy, shame, and exhilarating liberation, with Max coming from perhaps the first generation of young gay men who can live openly, freely, and without shame.  Encouraged by a friend and female coworker at the literary magazine, Amna (Hiftu Quasem), Max believes he’s onto something, especially after his manuscript attracts the interest of a literary agent, editor, and publisher, Dionne (Leanne Best), though he admits it’s kind of a “stock character of queer literature,” so she encourages him to change his novel from a third-person to a first-person perspective, a “pseudo-memoir,” believing that would enhance his work.  Sex work has been around for a while, where one need look no further than Luis Buñuel’s artfully surrealist BELLE DE JOUR (1967), before that Mizoguchi’s STREET OF SHAME (1956), or more recently Sean Baker’s Anora (2024), while Gus van Sant explored a gay twist in My Own Private Idaho (1991), as did Gregg Araki in MYSTERIOUS SKIN (2004), where a list of films has been compiled on Letterboxd, Male Sex Workers , a list of films by Annie Rose Malamet.  This is a quieter, more introspective film, where the provocative opening scene (“So, tell me about yourself”) places viewers directly into the heated passion of naked gay sex, which can be startling for some, but Max comes across as an earnest, down-to-earth guy, keeping most of his private life to himself, while always appearing natural and authentic, where there’s not a hint of ego or arrogance about him, never placing himself above others, and while he’s open-minded about what he does, with the highs and lows that come with the territory, there’s also an element of secrecy, where his biggest fear is being exposed for leading a double life.  After his encounters, he quickly jots down the details before he forgets, often repeating verbatim the words that were actually said, yet each experience is unique, as each different partner has their own distinct personality.  Sex workers often tread into dangerous territory, or get themselves into precarious positions that can lead to violence, depending on the stability or state of mind of their clients, taking a particular dark turn with powerful businessman Daniel (Ingvar Sigurðsson), so there’s underlying tension and even dread with each encounter.  Nonetheless, Max gets drawn into this nocturnal world, propelling him into increasingly risky encounters, where drugs and alcohol abound, sending him into an erratic tailspin, which causes him to miss scheduled meetings or deadlines, considerably damaging his reputation at the magazine.  

A different female version of this has been seen before in gay filmmaker François Ozon’s Young & Beautiful (Jeune & Jolie) (2013), one of the notable influences on Mäkelä, where sex work is not something done out of monetary need but a journey of self-discovery, as a young woman’s sexual innocence turns darker and drearier.  Similarly, this develops a more somber mood, yet it’s exquisitely shot by Finnish cinematographer Iikka Salminen, featuring a lot of lengthy close-ups and a luminous brightness, turning this into a probing, psychological character study, with Max developing a purposefully impenetrable façade, much of it hiding the shame that he feels swelling inside, or as the director puts it, “the shame of being ashamed.” Tensions escalate with his mother back in Scotland, who disapproves of his lifestyle choices, but he attributes this to blatant homophobia, and tends to think she’s simply out of touch with the modern world, where so many of the everyday transactional relationships are done online, both private and professional, largely for the sake of convenience, where sex work has become increasingly normalized in London’s gig economy, rather than the sad and tragic last resort of how it was viewed in the past.  Much of what we learn about Max is seen through his encounters with others, initially seeming confident with himself, where his future is bright, but anxieties creep in with a developing paranoia, believing what’s private will eventually be exposed, so after he runs into one of his clients at a literary event, he panics, completely deleting his online presence, which is a mental breakdown of sorts, suddenly in an emotional freefall with no recognizable support mechanism.  The film takes a sophisticated turn with more screen time from an older, more culturally refined client, Nicholas (Jonathan Hyde, a revelation), a retired literature professor who is more interested in talking and establishing a personal connection with Sebastian, both intellectually and emotionally, than in anything physical.  His own passion for art is completely recognizable in the interior décor of his home, or in a book Max pulls from his bookshelf, Cyril Collard’s Savage Nights (Les Nuits Fauves), written at the height of the AIDS crisis in 1989, an erotic, autobiographical novel of a bisexual man’s voracious appetite for life in the face of potentially life-threatening danger.  With opera playing in the background, which extends into the bedroom, they have sex to the exotic (yet uncredited) refrains of Nadir’s Aria from Bizet’s rarely seen luxuriance from The Pearlfishers, Jussi Björling - Les Pecheurs de Perles Act l - Je crois ... YouTube (3:35), an ode to an intoxicating, dreamlike memory of pure enchantment, which adds an element of poetic transcendence.   

One can only speculate, but it certainly appears gays more easily accept age differences that might be deal breakers in most heterosexual relationships, probably due to the more transient nature of the hookups.  Completely shifting the cold sterility of the sex acts to moments of tenderness and deeper meaning throws his publisher for a loop, thinking that’s not really what sells, and advises him to change the direction he’s taken.  But this allows viewers into the psychological realms of the perpetually conflicted character, suddenly feeling what he feels, utterly abandoning himself to the spontaneity of the moment, Sebastian – Clip: "Have We Met?" YouTube (1:37), exuding his own euphoric freedom and youthful openness, perhaps best expressed by a brief scene in a theater watching Maurice Pialat’s À Nos Amours (To Our Loves) (1983), where Sandrine Bonnaire’s burgeoning sexuality is on full display, an essential way of connecting with the world.  He’s also drawn into the world he is researching and the eventual consequences of a divided existence, exploring the transgressive power of queer sexuality and the transformative impact that can result from embracing his own sexual autonomy, crafting a newly empowered identity through both art and sex work, which is especially significant since gays have historically been denied authority over their own lives.  Evidence the tragic downward-spiral career trajectory of gay icon Sal Mineo, typecast as a stalker and deranged killer in Joseph Cates’ Who Killed Teddy Bear (1965), which demonstrates how marginalized communities have to navigate difficult spaces that refuse to fully embrace or accept them, leaving them few options.  Sex work remains illegal in Sweden, for instance, despite being known for their progressive policies.  The film begins with an exploration of Max as an escort, yet evolves into an introspective narrative about a young writer wrestling with his creative impulses amid complex societal expectations regarding sexuality and reputation.  It hints at the struggles faced by those in the arts to balance personal expression against commercial viability, emphasizing the importance of self-honesty as the core of Max’s journey, while also addressing the stigma surrounding sex work.  Max is very protective of his private persona, not wanting to taint the prospects of a future career in writing, where he tells his publishers that the novel he is creating is based on extensive interviews, hiding the fact that it’s a great deal more than that, with much more at stake, putting himself in harm’s way for the sake of honesty, leading to many aggressively explicit sex scenes, told with a stark truthfulness that’s necessary to sell the full reality of Max’s life as Sebastian, never resorting to an exploitive quality.  Mäkelä complicates the notion of identity and the façades we create, exploring how such masks can distance us from genuine interaction and intimacy, yet Max’s real self also emerges, more tender and considerate, perhaps surprising even himself, evoking a core loneliness, Sebastian(2024) Gay sex scene YouTube (1:54).  While it maintains the tension of a thriller throughout, where things are satisfyingly unpredictable, this film continues to establish Mäkelä as a significant voice in contemporary queer cinema.

Cloud (Kuraudo)

 

Writer/director Kiyoshi Kurosawa

director on the set with Masaki Suda

CLOUD (Kuraudo)                B                                                                                                 Japan  (124 mi)  2024  d: Kiyoshi Kurosawa

Now a death game begins.                                                                                                           —a dissatisfied customer

From the maker of CURE (1997), PULSE (2001), BRIGHT FUTURE (2003), Tokyo Sonata (2008), and Before We Vanish (Sanpo suru shinryakusha) (2017), all very different movies, known for making self-reflective psychological thrillers, where a common thread is the role technology plays in the modern world, playing on the collective fears of Japanese society, yet he never introduces special effects, preferring to use the classic tools of cinema over traditional American special effects and big stars, placing an emphasis on sound, lighting, photography, and editing combined with highly effective storytelling.  Noted for his psychological films that often focus on ambiguous narratives that accentuate the inner existential turmoil of characters and their search for meaning, Kurosawa is also known as one of the more intelligent and technically proficient filmmakers in the world today, yet he continues to experiment with new genres and styles, drawn by the idea of making an action thriller, where his contemporary work is just as thought-provoking as his distinctive earlier work.  Returning to a familiar theme of technology being a disruptive force, representing the emotional emptiness of modernity, this avoids the supernatural element of his earlier films, replaced in this instance by a scathing critique of capitalism, where an economy of exploitation causes a loss of identity, exploring the theme of media-amplified alienation, turning into a karma film, as it so prominently features cause and effect, with deceptive business practices leading to violent retributions, yet when that payback finally arrives, it’s not at all what we anticipate.  With an equal amount of oppressive mundanity and perverse amusement, this is a haunting change-of-life experience with lingering effects.  Stylishly subversive, yet also bold and unpredictable, there’s a sociopathic edge to each character that keeps viewers on edge, unsure of what’s about to happen, bearing some similarities to Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s Evil Does Not Exist (Aku wa sonzai shinai) (2023), which may not be surprising since Hamaguchi studied under Kurosawa at the Tokyo University of the Arts.  The idea for this story began in 2018, and may have originated with Takahiro Shiraishi, the “Twitter Killer,” who murdered and dismembered nine people in 2017, most of them young women, contacting his victims through social media, primarily Twitter, after they had posted about suicidal thoughts, luring them to his apartment under the guise of helping them, but then proceeded to rape and kill his victims, and was executed by hanging in Japan on June 27, 2025.  The Internet, from its dial-up infancy, was once viewed with such promise as this mystical and magical thing, thinking it was the answer to so many problems, a research tool that could access resource information with instantaneous results, without having to trek to the library, while things could get done so much faster and with greater accuracy, including correspondence with friends or business associates anywhere in the world, yet it also has a tendency to isolate and alienate people from general society, lowering the quotient for having to have social skills or good manners.  Over time we’ve become addicted to cellphones and social media, where an all-consuming narcissistic obsession has fueled an anonymous hate culture where no rules apply, as there is no referee or moderator to intervene, so people have free reign to do or say whatever dumb thing they please, however racist, homophobic, hateful, or misinformed, where you don’t need a moral compass to intentionally smear someone’s character, impugn anyone who’s different, or even invent fictitious scenarios or conspiracy theories that spread like wildfires (Hate culture is ruining the internet), creating waves of invisible and unwanted pressure just to get through each and every day. 

Screened out of competition at the Venice Film Festival in 2024, this film centers upon Ryosuke Yoshii, played with alienation and detachment by Masaki Suda, who voiced the Heron in Hayao Miyazaki’s latest The Boy and the Heron (Kimitachi wa dô ikiru ka) (2023), viewed as an ambitiously young but directionless factory worker from Tokyo who builds an illegitimate side business of black market reselling, operating “on impulse and instinct,” cornering the market by picking up merchandise on the cheap and then reselling it online under a pseudonym at exorbitant prices, impervious to the effect this has on others, cheating buyers and sellers alike, who feel they got swindled.  The film effectively shows how the digital frontier has infiltrated our lives and become a domain for our most troubling and malicious tendencies, a world where human relationships have been reduced to transactions.  Initially living in a cramped apartment with his girlfriend Akiko, played by Kotone Furukawa, from Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s 2021 #10 Film of the Year Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy (Gûzen to sôzô) (2021), Yoshii decides to move to an undisclosed larger location out of the city, attempting to remain anonymous from disgruntled victims who are attempting to track him down.  Refusing to join the new business of his school friend Muraoka (Masataka Kubota), who helped bring him into the online resale business, while also turning down a promotional opportunity from his boss Takimoto (Yoshiyoshi Arakawa), telling him, “I’m just unassertive.  It only looks like I’m committed,” he becomes more and more disconnected from the world around him, losing all interest in anything except his bank account, and even avoids his relationship with Akiko while hiring a devoted assistant, Sano (Daiken Okudaira), to help expand the business.  In a sly turn of events, the perpetually bored Akiko comes on to Sano, but he curiously rebuffs her advances with surprising resolve.  What stands out is the way Kurosawa visually expresses the online sale, where the computer becomes a central character, revealed in a very cinematic manner, creating anticipation and suspense, filling the screen with items for sale, all meticulously listed in ordered columns, changing color as they’re purchased, literally coming alive as customers express an interest in his merchandise one item at a time, ultimately becoming the realization of all his hard work and dreams, Clip from Cloud directed by Kurosawa Kiyoshi YouTube (2:17).  But Kurosawa has something else in mind, as this isn’t an entrepreneurial success story, but something else altogether, a glacially paced thriller with unexpected twists and turns near the end, leaving viewers in the dark about where this is going, portraying the hidden face of the Internet and the anonymous people who hide behind the screens, pushing every trace of humanity aside in order to get what they want, becoming an exploration of the dark edges of our society, where this is a “The Internet will steal your soul movie,” with cautionary warnings about the kind of world this is becoming.  Going against the grain of a traditional Japanese work ethic, where working in solidarity with an entire team is the business model for achieving security and success, Yoshii is something of a lone wolf, an independent contractor who mostly displays feelings of ambivalence and uncertainty, yet a firm believer in opportunism and his own compulsion, with an allegiance to no one but himself. This puts him at odds with the status quo, but may reflect the perspective of a younger generation seeking quicker, more instantaneous methods of success, more reliant upon technology and their computer prowess, driven by wanting to see results now.   

Elegantly shot by Yasuyuki Sasaki, who worked on Hamaguchi’s Asako I & II (Netemo sametemo) (2018), using long takes and abrupt cuts, making exquisite use of empty space, where characters are often shot engulfed in their surroundings, with musical composer Takuma Watanabe adding his own eerie stylishness, with Shinji Watanabe’s positively brilliant sound design, Kurosawa has staged a generational divide choreography pitting the old ways against the new, which proceeds in a very slow manner, taking a while to get started, showing a quiet detachment, but viewers need to get acclimated to just what kind of business Yoshii is running, quitting his job at the factory, going all-in on his own business acumen, where an overly materialistic Akiko seems to be drawn to him over his ability to make money, no questions asked, but he starts clashing with both his assistant and girlfriend over his increasingly obsessive work habits.  What’s important in this film is that it features ordinary people leading ordinary lives.  A frustrated Akiko never figures out how to operate an espresso machine, supposedly an upgrade over a regular coffee maker, and eventually moves out when she is so completely neglected by his preoccupation with his business, while Yoshii also fires Sano after discovering he used his computer, with his assistant trying to warn him that others are angered by his questionable business ethics, or lack thereof, like stirring up a hornet’s nest, completely dismissing this notion that he needs to do a better job concealing his identity online, but this insider access feels too close for comfort and creates friction, especially when Sano refuses to be fired, claiming he’s only looking out for Yoshii’s interests.  Yoshii, on the other hand, can’t tell whether the threats are real or imagined, though there is a trail of random incidents left behind like breadcrumbs.  None of this sounds particularly dramatic or cinematic, but the filmmaker cleverly reveals only the barest outlines of a story, establishing a rhythm of disorientation and dread, where there is an outpouring of angry resentment against Yoshii, as people want to bring him down, driven by greed, hatred, self-interest, and desire, trying to follow his computer footprint, initially with no success, but an online forum produces his address (Yoshii inadvertently allowed his address to be seen on his phone during a bus ride), so a group bands together to go after him, revealed with such a remarkable economy of means, where an open door changes the entire trajectory of the film, veering into a cold thriller with a dark, satirical edge, CLOUD by Kurosawa Kiyoshi – Official clip 1 | #venezia81 ... YouTube (1:11).  Kurosawa always does more with less, which distinguishes him as an innovative filmmaker, making the most out of a seemingly innocuous situation, as it makes little sense for his former boss to show up ominously outside his place in the dead of night, adding an element of lingering creepiness, as we don’t really know why, CLOUD by Kurosawa Kiyoshi – Official clip | #venezia81 Fuori ... YouTube (1:37), but this soon escalates into the horror mode, as a swindler drama morphs into a standard thriller, shifting into a home invasion mode before turning into a bleak­ly fun­ny, full-blown action movie.  When it becomes apparent people are after him, Yoshii escapes into the woods to avoid a vengeful lynch mob that is out to get him.  Just when he thinks he has eluded them, he suddenly finds himself surrounded and kidnapped by a gang of disgruntled people armed to the teeth wanting to exact revenge, all with warped reasons for getting involved, where it gets confusing who they all are, a gangster, apparently, who joins forces with his former bosses and a few petty revenge seekers, leaving him with few options. 

Tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, a man with a blowtorch intends to burn Yoshii alive and stream it online for profit, becoming some sort of gruesome revenge spectacle, an exaggerated overreaction to be sure, but they represent a Greek chorus of anger and resentment, people who have been easily manipulated, misled, and taken advantage of, powerless and seemingly without a voice, yet here they’re given a platform to exact retribution, but more surprises await, as things don’t go exactly as planned, where the warehouse format may remind some of Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs (1992).  Kurosawa interjects a few unforeseen obstacles in the form of Sano, his misunderstood and completely unappreciated, and fired, assistant who tracks him down by the GPS on his phone, turning out to be a former yakuza, who even after his release considers it his natural duty to defend his employer, turning into a Charles Bronson vigilante who intends to exact justice.  Coming out of nowhere, the quietly polite Sano turns into the X-factor, exhibiting surprising resourcefulness, stalking and killing the kidnappers with astonishing efficiency, rescuing his former boss who he still swears allegiance to, as if he never left his former position, combining forces to track down the remaining few that continue to pose a threat.  Yoshii is placed in the position of a combatant with a gun in his hand, completely bewildered how he found himself in this position, but what he’s called upon to do is shoot to kill in order to save his own life, revealing in no uncertain terms that it’s either kill or be killed, a metaphor for the cutthroat capitalist business landscape where it’s the Wild West out there, with real life gunslingers, dripping with a sense of paranoia and dread, with potentially violent costumers lurking around every shadowy corner, reminding us what unchecked capitalism looks like (The rise of end times fascism | Far right (US)).  This scenario references the Sam Peckinpah film STRAW DOGS (1971), where the meek husband of a violently raped woman turns into a fanatically-driven killer to exact justice.  Akiko even makes a late appearance, but her motives are suspicious, just like everyone else.  With a surreal ending that has a heavily absurdist literary No Exit aspect, Sano and Yoshii drive off into an apocalyptic orange-colored landscape, like falling into the abyss, with Sano professing his primary purpose is to make more money, where nothing else matters, as we hear a doomed Yoshii mutter under his breath, “So this is how you get into Hell.”  Probing the depths of human deception and depravity with an unblinking gaze, Kurosawa’s film is challenging in an untraditional way, offering ruminations on how our online preoccupations are draining peo­ple of their human­i­ty, as Yoshii and Sano form a symbiotic connection with an ambiguous future together. The title reflects the intangible, nebulous nature of the Internet where digital interactions and transactions occur in a vast, interconnected space, where things can be ephemeral and difficult to grasp, as this insightful satire of online capitalism and hate culture exposes a virtual world spilling out into the real world where violent incidents can occur for seemingly no reason whatsoever, as petty grudges and frustrations are blown way out of proportion.  The Internet, which can both connect people and become a catalyst for conflict, magnifies the worst in us, mirroring the endless rage that social media stokes, as virtual anger inevitably spills out into the physical world, something we commonly see every day.  While the Internet brings about the end of the world in PULSE, so eerily ahead of its time and prescient in its mixture of techno-horror and social commentary, we face the teetering fragility of this future at our own peril.    

Видео Cloud {Kuraudo} Masaki Suda-Kotone Furukawa ... entire film may be seen with English subtitles on YouTube (2:04:02)