Love Me If You Dare: Broe Explores Love in a Hopeless Place
Harlan Ellison’s publication Love Ain’t Nothing But Sex Misspelled might be a more fitting title for Sauna, the directorial debut of Danish filmmaker Mathias Broe, in essence a queer narrative reconfiguring a familiar formula but utilizing a trans angle to reflect an eternal disconnect hampering parity in the intersectionalities of the LGBTQ+ community. While the film may seem to assert something is indeed rotten in the state of Denmark, Broe touches upon a universality which remains a historical reality on the inherent difficulty in seeking an emotional connection through non consensual sex.
Interestingly, Broe hangs his perspective on a cis gay male, who, adrift in the inherent ennui of the twentysomething experience, seems to be the victim of his own constructed circumstance. Though it’s not a quote originating with RuPaul Charles, his cribbed sentiment cemented into the zeitgeist, “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you gonna love somebody else?” applies to the lost lovers conceived by Broe, both in the infancy stages of an identity development which inhibits them from discerning their actual compatibility.
Johan (Magnus Juhl Anderson) is relatively new to Copenhagen after fleeing the climes of his rural existence with parents who do not approve of his sexuality. His looks and pleasant behavior have worked in his favor, having secured lodging and stability through his frequenting of a local sauna called Adonis, where he not only works but spends a majority of his free time engaging in sex. An online hookup connects him with William (Nina Terese Rask), a trans man whose identity isn’t initially apparent to Johan. Their initial sexual encounter leads to hanging out and an overnight sleepover. William, who is saving up to pay for top surgery, is invited to Johan’s place of work only for them both to discover the establishment’s owner is transphobic. Johan pursues William despite this hiccup, and as a bid to overcome the incident, steals cash from the till, which causes him to be fired and in need of housing. Moving in with William, their brief idyll is quickly diminished by Johan’s lack of ambition and William’s ongoing transition.
As Johan, Magnus Juhl Anderson (who resembles a young Ed Begley, Jr.) becomes an increasingly aggravating protagonist. Broe uses an exceptional visualization to book-end his experience, peering through a constricted aperture into the life or experience he’s been relegated to participating in as an outsider, or maybe just a voyeur. In short, he’s a passive instigator of his own experience and his more aggressive attempts to grab the steering wheel of his own life prove disastrous. Our introduction to his daily existence arrives through a conversation with his steam room co-worker, one of several platonic relationships born through propinquity as opposed to genuine connection. Conversations about a ‘gold star gay,’ a previous generation’s benchmark for establishing a certain formative experience in the binary queer community, establish Johan is someone who’s never had a sexual experience with a woman. But despite his relative success with sexual connections through gay bars or online connections, it’s clear Johan is searching for something a bit more meaningful.
Ere goes, his youthful self-centeredness nearly derails a meet-cute with William, whose trans identity is not immediately apparent until they become physical, despite the latter’s statement on their online profile. But Johan’s faux pas is easily assuaged through his vulnerability to connect, and it’s here where Sauna promises to evoke tried and true tropes of past queer classics, like My Beautiful Launderette (1985) or The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love (1995). This trajectory eventually feels abandoned while Broe showcases how both characters are in a state of instability, their identities in flux for various reasons. In comparison, William has more access to meaningful social and economic resources while Johan, who has only figured out how to have his needs met through sexual interactions with cis gay men, is in danger of falling through the societal cracks. It doesn’t take long to become clear how Johan is destined to be a dead weight for William.
Broe, along with screenwriters William Lippert and Mads Ananda Lodahl, provide few details about Johan, who, prior to being a small-town boy with a contentious relationship with his parents, moved to Copenhagen only to experience the eternal yoke of isolation in an urban center. We do receive a meaningful conversation about Johan’s first sexual crush, and a formative orgasm which was powerful enough to make him contemplate his relationship to the universe. It’s clear William may be the first human evoking a similar formative relationship for Johan, but both are blinded by the temporary physical solace they are able to provide one another as actual evidence of their fulfillment. Johan’s adolescent orgasm is later visualized powerfully during a moment of drunken despair, signifying how their fast track romance has fizzled on a psychic level.
While the title ends up being somewhat misleading, considering how the sauna is really a tangential space and seems a lazy way to attract those seeking a sense of titillation, what it does outline is how space is policed by various niche mentalities in the LGBTQ+ community. Both ignorance and self protection relegates outsiders to either invisibility or unworthiness, something experienced both by Johan and William in their brief romance. Although it’s not inherently a hopeful tale for its main protagonist, Broe evokes the painful realities of being adrift, and how loneliness can be mistakenly embraced as an inherent character trait. It’s a film about learning how to navigate the fulfillment of our needs or the procurement of meaningful connections. A co-worker tells Johan early on how he needs to go after what he desires, whether it’s money or sex, and this is a portrait of how, as humans, we essentially learn how to do that through trial and error, hopefully without damaging ourselves beyond repair.
Reviewed on January 27th at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival (41st edition) – World Cinema Dramatic Competition section. 103 mins.
★★½/☆☆☆☆☆