Films about protagonists driven by anonymous, no-strings-attached sexual gratification, who gradually embrace love and human connection, have been made before. It’s not a new concept and the typical plotline can be tired and predictable. My expectations for the festival indie favourite, Sequin in a Blue Room (2019), a ‘homosexual film by’ director Samuel Van Grinsven, were high. The erotic drama, and more specifically the queer erotic drama, is a ‘genre’ I’m very familiar with and I was excited to see an Australian art film have its own twist on the tale. Some of my expectations were certainly met, as I compared Van Grinsven’s debut film with others in my mind. However, it was ultimately capable of standing on its own, for its stylistic nuances and atmosphere, and despite some narrative aspects I found flimsy at first.
The plot is simple. Van Grinsven’s film focuses on ‘Sequin’ (Conor Leach), a sixteen-year-old high school student living with his father (Jeremy Lindsay Taylor) in Sydney. Sequin uses the gay hook-up app, ‘Anon’, to meet men of various ages and types. At an anonymous sex party in the ‘Blue Room’ Sequin meets Edward (Samuel Barrie), whom he connects with but doesn’t know. Sequin tries to track Edward down and is stalked by an unwanted older man called ‘B’ (Ed Wightman). Sequin eventually finds love and protection with fellow student, Tommy (Simon Croker) and with drag queen, Virginia (Anthony Brandon Wong), setting aside the risky business of anonymous sexual encounters.
Van Grinsven succeeds in making the ‘hot’ world of sex with strangers a very ‘cold’ climate. The colour palette largely uses blues and greys. Shot compositions often show the backs of characters’ heads before we get to know them. The ‘Anon’ app only shows ominous cropped images of abs and biceps at the margins of the frame as Sequin scrolls like a lustful zombie. Sequin barely speaks in the first few scenes. Faces are obscured or off-screen when they speak and character interactions are mostly fleeting. For the setting of Sydney, a sunny tourist spot with many attractions, the film interestingly denies a firm or familiar sense of ‘place’. While this could be for budgetary reasons, it was a curious choice to make this film’s setting feel almost anonymous too. Sequin in a Blue Room is visually and sonically stunning, with certain scenes absorbing, pulsating, and oneiric, particularly in the eponymous ‘Blue Room’. Coldness in the first part of the film subsides as some life and depth develops with Sequin, who loses control over his situation. Colours become warmer and lighter and tighter shots bring us closer to our protagonist’s emotions.
The film certainly deserves the appreciation it received at festivals for several reasons. The sound design is foreboding. Brent Williams’ synth composition is striking and complements the visual elements. Leach, as a young actor, is engaging and deserves recognition. However, by the time I saw Sequin as a three-dimensional character with human challenges and relationships, it was almost too late. I was therefore sceptical of its form as a feature-length film (and not, say, an experimental short film) due to its overt stylishness, but initial character and plot simplicity. Fortunately, Tommy offers something interesting and new in Sequin’s life and the threat of ‘B’ becomes more apparent. At first, the chats from the ‘Anon’ app on the screen were jarring, as I was only acquainted with that effect in tv shows. But it only enhanced the feeling of entrapment as the numerous torsos surrounded Sequin.
Interestingly, Van Grinsven could have decided to pose sex as a major moral issue, equating it with an addiction. Sequin’s sex life isn’t framed by the moralism of say, Steve McQueen’s melodrama, Shame (2011), about a suffering sex addict. Although Van Grinsven shares McQueen’s interest in sex in a cold environment, we’re not left wallowing in the puddle of Sequin’s ‘bad’ choices. While this means it’s easier to sympathise with Brandon (Michael Fassbender) in Shame on a melodramatic level than with Sequin, it also means that sex, specifically gay sex, isn’t totally equated with something immoral or perverse in Van Grinsven’s film. This is refreshing. Instead, Van Grinsven shows us that Sequin can actually find human connection. Despite his love for sex, Sequin is not a complete wreck beyond saving.
For a debut feature, Sequin in a Blue Room is a stylish success and doesn’t fall prey to the temptations of pretentiousness. Its positive ending was fulfilling and didn’t convey a completely demoralised protagonist’s undoing, but rather his building-up and reawakening into a new life and new relationships. It is worth watching if you like similar films and I would definitely look out for Van Grinsven’s name in the future.
Sequin in a Blue Room is released via Peccadillo Pictures on UK/Ireland & North America digital platforms from 9th April.
