Sundance Film Festival Review: Sauna (Mathias Broe)

Queer culture – speaking very, very generally – and what ‘queerness’ looks like in the present day has shifted over the decades. The title of Sauna refers to a gay bathhouse and sex club called Adonis. And this is where young Johan (Magnus Juhl Anderson) works in Denmark’s capital city, Copenhagen. With blonde curtain bangs and a sculpted torso, he is every bit the poster boy for the quintessential Scandi gay male. Team the setting, the lead, and a conversation early in the movie about ‘Gold Star Gays’, gay men who have never had sex with women, and you’d be forgiven for thinking Sauna was set in the 1980s or 1990s.

That is, until, he meets and falls for William (Nina Rask). A trans man still figuring out his masculinity and facing barriers to medical transition. Rask, who identifies as transmasculine, is one of the first trans actors performing a lead role in Danish film. Mathias Broe’s considerate, sensual feature directorial debut is bang up-to-date in modern LGBTQ+ cinema.

While Sauna was an adaptation of a Mads Ananda Lodahl novel and co-written with William Lippert, it seems like this film project was made for Broe. His partner was transitioning during the production of Sauna, and he has made several short films about queer people, for queer people.

Sauna is truly a movie for everyone in and outside the LGBTQ+ umbrella. Johan is mostly sympathetic to William’s unique struggles, but is usually misguided in his attempts to relate to William as a trans man. Tension on a class level is a key theme that transcends queerness. Johan might have been offered an apartment and job based on his books and amiable character. William comes from a wealthy family with a gorgeous lake house and is studying at university. Not to mention Johan’s job consists of cleaning the sauna, glory holes and all. It’s a different type of privilege. And there’s certainly a throughline about spaces where one is allowed and the unspoken boundaries.

While Sauna can be a little suffocating with the social issues, context is important. It’s difficult to call out a film for treading a worn path when the number of trans characters in American movies, for example, is declining. Director Broe raises interesting discussions in Sauna about allyship within the community and the separation between the person and the cause. William fills a lack for Johan and distracts him from strains and secrets about his sexuality.

What Sauna doesn’t hide is bodies; often dimly lit yet full-frontal. Sex scenes are numerous and explicit, yet tender and authentic. With the characters demonstrating a clear hunger for the other yet there is a mutual respect. Johan and William have undeniable chemistry despite the obvious cracks.

As a first-time director, it’s understandable that Broe would re-engineer tried-and-tested cinematic motifs for some scenes. As young queer people, naturally Johan and William are fond of clubs. Slow motion allows the longing glances across a crowded dance floor between the leads, that would otherwise be lost. When William starts dressing in tighter outfits and becomes more secure in his masculine body, Johan inherits his partner’s baggy clothing. He loses himself in William’s life, and becomes more paranoid about the longevity of their relationship.

This is underscored in Johan’s roommate and boss, Michael (Klaus Tange). He’s a middle-aged man who lost his partner in the AIDs crisis decades ago. But still keeps a framed photo of his lover on a shelf. This touching scene acts as a bridge to queer viewers who came of age in a different generation. While older members of the LGBTQ+ community may feel out of their depth with the gender and identity battle today, it might be difficult for young queer people to comprehend the horrors of the 1980s epidemic.

While Johan and William’s chemistry during their burgeoning relationship is the film’s strength, their friction is when the script loses its way. Johan doesn’t seem to shake off his downward spiral, committing a series of self-destructive acts that don’t cease. However, Sauna rightfully leaves more questions than answers. It’s a sympathetic, authentic story that just might earn its place among the best of queer world cinema.