“I’d like to stay… not for him, for me.”
As a film, Sebastian is an enigma. It’s two hours of contradictions, shifts in tone, and fluctuating perspectives despite focusing almost entirely on one character. But it’s through these contradictions that the second feature film from director Mikko Mäkelä really works: a character study that’s tender but also honest in a really engaging way.
Despite its title, Sebastian follows Max (Ruaridh Mollica), a freelance journalist writing for a literary magazine. He dreams of publishing his own novel, a frank portrayal of sex work as a viable career choice in contemporary London. For inspiration, though, Max gets it directly from the source: working in his spare time as an escort named Sebastian – but it soon becomes as much a priority as his initial goal.
From the ideas and concepts it explores alone, Sebastian is a singular experience. Just as Max’s life is split between his pursuit of a literary career and his incredibly lucrative sex work, so is the film. It’s just as much about the minutiae and politics of the publishing world – mixing with publishers, submitting chapters for edits, and determining the perspective to write in – as it is Max meeting with clients and pushing his limits.
This gives the film a distinct subject matter that nothing else like it has explored. Both sides are equally interesting, and it gives Mäkelä ample room to explore Max as a character. The script is never too forthcoming with explicit information: we know he’s distant from his family, comes from Scotland, but other than that his background is kept intentionally vague. Instead, we take Max at face value, and even though he’s not the most outgoing or charismatic protagonist, he’s engaging to follow throughout.
These twin lives are the crux of Sebastian‘s storytelling, and everything feeds into that wider dichotomy. The editing is particularly sharp, splicing scenes of Sebastian with clients alongside Max tapping away at his laptop. While none of the double-life ideas it presents are overly original, it’s the context in which they take place that gives the film a unique insight.
The film’s self-awareness, however, is something that particularly stands out. Max writes his novel based on the experiences he has as Sebastian, so when he’s getting feedback from editors and publishers, it feels like Mäkelä directly addressing potential critiques of the film. While not the most subtle device, it gives these scenes another veneer of depth that elevates the narrative above its face value.
What’s particularly refreshing is how frank and positive it is in its representation of sex work. It’s not all glorified by any means, and there are some disturbing scenes, but Mäkelä’s script is equally clear that throughout, Max genuinely enjoys the work. While a lot of films breaching this topic focus on the misery, desperation, and potential abuse that can unfold, Sebastian is a tale of bodily agency.
At points, though, it does feel like Sebastian lacks the narrative thrust to remain engaging. The second act and beginning of the third are particularly meandering, as very little happens in terms of moving the plot or characters forward. After a propulsive, electric first act, this drop in pace is noticeably and feels somewhat jarring. It does right itself by the end, though, with a powerful conclusion that’s subtle but satisfying.
Despite this, Sebastian is a very refreshing take on sex work and the dual lives it can create. Its decision to focus just as much on Max’s literary career as his escorting is a brilliant one, giving the film another veneer to explore. While its structure is occasionally clumsy, the ideas Sebastian covers make it a worthy watch. It’s tender, engaging, and incredibly well directed.
★★★½
Sebastian is out now on DVD and Blu-ray from Peccadillo Films.
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