Is there any topic in cinema these days more hot-button than the question of authentic storytelling? Sebastian tackles the question of whether artists should tell stories rooted in their lived experiences quite provocatively. Sundance knows this controversial debate well. It’s bold, productive, and refreshing to see the festival further the conversation with such a stimulating film. Writer/director Mikko Mäkelä (A Moment in the Reeds) explores the creative process as Sebastian’s lead Max (Ruaridh Mollica) tries to make his debut novel “authentic” by wading dangerously deep into research. Which is tricky since his book focuses on sex work. Max inevitably takes a walk on the wild side to get the story right.
Max also fancies himself a serious writer and ekes out a living at magazine. He writes profiles, hones his craft, and builds a portfolio. He even lands an assignment to interview acclaimed novelist Bret Easton Ellis—in part because his editor strives to match interviewees with writers who share their lived experience. To the protest of his colleague, Max gets the job, well, because he’s gay and Ellis is gay.
It’s a thorny subject for interviewers, journalists, and critics—and one I often wrestle with as a (gay) publisher. Any good writer who does his or her research and comes prepared should, hypothetically, be able to speak with someone and cover their work. But writing in 2024 demands a higher standard. Max recognizes that the question is trickier, though, when crafting a story of one’s own. The young and relatively straight-laced Max, however, unlocks something within himself while writing about Sebastian’s sexual escapades. He finds a world of connection that young gay men rarely enjoy in a generation defined by app-based dating. Ironically, the transactional nature of a good swipe ultimately lets him find his voice as a writer.
Learning the Trade
Max/Sebastian has a relatively steady gig in the sex trade, which is great considering how little writing pays these days. Moreover, as a young and available twink who’s easy on the eyes, Sebastian attracts a specific clientele. His clients tend to be much older men. He seems more comfortable with dad bods and blue pills than with mascs and poppers. There’s an element of safety, perhaps, in dating older men, particularly professionals flush with cash, for this young lad trying to crib some stories without being recognized.
Sebastian’s tricks inspire words to flow through Max. He writes about intimacy very well and his voice evolves as he essentially creates autofiction. He shares his experiences using Sebastian as his veil of anonymity. However, while his agent, teachers, and peers gush about the passages that Max shares in feedback sessions, he recognizes that something’s a bit off. Can experiences be authentic if one lives them purely in the service of artistic license?
Answering this question leads Max to break his own rules. He forges connections with these older men. He realizes while satisfying his own cravings why these men hire Sebastian. Many of them don’t want sex. Some people want pleasurable friction, but others are just lonely and need companionship, even at a price. Yet Mäkelä finds something truly refreshing in the relationships that give Sebastian strength. Rather than portray the johns with a unifying lens and characterising them as pervy creepers, Sebastian affords them dignity. Sebastian’s gigs become lessons in queer history as men from elder generations pass on their experiences. Max gets a rude awakening about the privilege he enjoys as a young gay man who lives openly, freely, and without shame.
Exciting Voices
Mäkelä explores two touchy subjects—artistic voice and sex work—with sensitivity and maturity. The film’s depictions of sex work are judgement-free with the most salacious bits playing out as Max clacks away on his keyboard after a night of service. Viewers must imagine them as Mäkelä brilliantly flips the question of creating what one knows back on the person conjuring images of Sebastian’s tricks.
Sebastian isn’t cynical about the question of writing about what you know, but rather open and curious. It’s refreshing to see a young talent like Mäkelä negotiate these questions in an artful way as he forges his own artistic path. The film adeptly presents both sides of the argument. Writing through the lens of experience affords a work factual and emotional accuracy. But drawing from life risks appropriating other people’s stories without consent. While Sebastian changes his johns’ names, he appreciates the gravity of what would happen if someone recognized himself in the text. People buying sex aren’t necessarily giving up their life rights.
Moreover, the provocative questions that Sebastian asks find a great guide in Mollica. In what’s sure to be one of the breakout performances of the Sundance Film Festival, if not the year, Mollica capably wrestles with emotional and existential stakes in Max’s creative process. The hunger, the curiosity, the discomfort, and ultimately the sense of responsibility are there as Max evolves artistically by gaining a firm handle on himself and his comfort with sex and queerness. He wears the emotional burden of keeping secrets and taking lives, but also lets the character’s introspective observational traits speak wonders as Max soaks up lessons in desire, agency, and autonomy. As Max finds his voice, Sebastian thrillingly marks two distinct voices—those of Mäkelä and Mollica—that join their fictional counterpart as rising talents to watch.
