“Sauna” starts in the exact place you’d expect it to. Men writhe and moan in the shadows just out of sight as a young gay man walks through the dark room at Adonis, Copenhagen’s only gay sauna. It turns out that he’s employed there, yet is free to enjoy all the perks his workplace has to offer. There’s no sleeping on the job, but sleeping around is just fine. While that position (and the many others he finds himself in) sounds a great deal better than your average office role, Johan isn’t still satisfied.
Meaningless encounter after meaningless encounter has begun to take its toll on him, echoing the emptiness so many young gay men face when their social life in a new city consists mostly of sex and very little else. The script, co-written by director Mathias Broe, doesn’t condemn that, though. Like the book that it’s based on (by Danish author Mads Ananda Lodahl), “Sauna” explores this without judgement, telling a story that’s recognizable to anyone familiar with the hypersexual world that can come with frequenting saunas of a homosexual variety.
Little touches, like scenes in which Johan douches on the toilet or casually cleans up cum in the sauna, further ground the film as distinctly queer in ways a straight filmmaker could never understand. You can practically smell the lube and poppers wafting off the screen. But “Sauna” isn’t just another typical gay festival drama, just as random hookups aren’t always as meaningless or empty as some might think. Johan’s told early on that he “won’t find friends on Grindr,” and that’s true, but what he does find is an even deeper connection that reframes his understanding of love and gender beyond his experience as a cis white gay man.
It starts innocuously enough with a hookup in Johan’s flat. The man who visits is shy at first, sitting on the couch opposite with his coat still on, even after they share a beer together. Johan goes through his usual script to help William relax, and it’s not long before the pair start kissing. But when Johan’s groping hands move to William’s chest, he’s pushed away. “Are you…?” Johan asks, realizing that William might in fact be a trans man. “I haven’t been with a trans guy before,” he says rather naively. “Maybe you should have read my profile,” counters William, ready to leave.
But Johan pushes through that initial awkwardness and asks William to stay anyway. So begins what Broe describes in the press notes as a “reversed Romeo and Juliet,” where a forbidden love story evolves into a love letter for the wider queer community and chosen family, especially.
That’s something Johan is missing at first, although it’s as much his choice as anything. He has a friend at work, in the sauna, and his older flatmate is looking out for him too. In fact, that’s how Johan got the job and his room in the first place. Yet he’s closed himself off to deeper connections beyond how deep he might go in the sauna. William’s arrival changes that, opening him up with a tenderness that coalesces into something beautiful and intimate, but also challenging.
It’s in these intimate moments where “Sauna” resonates most, whether the couple in question are holding hands the morning after or maintaining eye contact while Johan goes down on William. Broe’s feature debut isn’t just the first Danish movie to follow a trans main character, it’s perhaps the first film to ever show Testogel (testosterone in a tube) lovingly and even sensually applied by one lover to another. William later thanks Johan with the gift of a dildo strap-on — “That’s so fucking hot” — which we then see used in action.
At a time when transphobia is thriving even within the LGBTQ+ community, scenes like this speak to a more inclusive, loving reality between cis and trans lovers that’s almost never depicted on screen. That’s vital within the context of the story and it’s vital beyond that too, yet Broe’s camera doesn’t overly romanticize the sex. It’s sensual and it’s passionate, but it’s also awkward and clumsy at points. Through close-ups that take us in deep, we watch as Johan uses a pillow to prop his ass up while William lubes the dildo with extremely authentic and not-too-sexy wet noises. (More proof that no one shoots a queer sex scene quite like a queer filmmaker.)
“Sauna” doesn’t shy away from the more challenging realities that a trans character like William would face though either. In a key moment early on in their courtship, Johan takes his new lover to Adonis, reassuring him that everything will be OK. Broe’s script takes us through every step, from getting changed in the locker room to walking through and finding a private room for them to enjoy. William uses a towel to get changed while Johan gets naked, and he remains self-conscious even when he keeps a top on still in the sauna itself. It’s not until they find a safe space alone that William starts to relax, only to be chased out shortly after by the sauna’s transphobic owner.
In moments like this, Broe’s script (co-written with William Lippert) adeptly navigates a rounded trans story arc that encompasses both the positive and the negative without leaning too hard on one or the other. These ups and downs are threaded throughout the central relationship this film is hinged on as their feelings ebb and flow with each new development. The chemistry between the two leads feels grounded in something real, whether they’re tentatively exploring each other’s worlds or blowing up their joint world through outbursts, and even worse, indifference.
Magnus Juhl Andersen and Nina Rask channel this intense dynamic effortlessly — it’s hard to imagine the film working as well without them — although I did wonder at first why “Sauna” prioritizes Johan’s cis perspective over William’s trans POV. It turns out though that this particular love story actually mirrors Broe’s own personal experience, because his partner began transitioning during the film’s early development. It makes sense then that “Sauna” would be told through a proxy for him rather than a trans character outside of his own worldview.
Would the story be more interesting from William’s perspective? Perhaps. But Johan’s outlook here is also quite unique in the current canon of queer cinema, and it’s important to note that the trans elements of the film are sensitively handled without losing sight of William or pushing his side of the story into the background.
“Sauna” might not end in the place you’d expect or even want it to, but that’s how love goes sometimes. And while it ‘s working on a very different plane to more radical trans fare like “The People’s Joker” or “I Saw The TV Glow,” Broe’s work here does compliment a new wave of queer cinema that authentically speaks to the trans experience, offering a unique yet relevant love story that treats the complexities of queer desire with nuance and compassion.