As our lead, Johan (Magnus Juhl Andersen), steps into a seedy and mysterious gay sauna right in the opening scene, the aptly-titled Sauna wastes no time emphasizing the importance of its locale. Based on the novel by Mads Ananda Lodahl, it would be remiss to leave out that there are some heavy themes, and some truly uncomfortable moments housed within. This is an LGBT+ film not afraid to go for the jugular in its depiction of sex and desire, but also in pain and torment. The raw realism will undoubtedly put off more casual viewers, especially in the midst of Gen-Z’s obsession with less sex in the movies. Screenwriter William Lippert interestingly juxtaposes the transgender experience against a self-destructive gay one, and only underlines the harrowing trajectory of Johan’s downward spiral. Sexually explosive in its focus on a deeply flawed relationship, Danish import Sauna provides a hauntingly realistic snapshot of young queer love in the modern age.
Johan works as a receptionist at Copenhagen’s Adonis sauna, mainly cleaning up but always lingering with voyeuristic intentions. He actively engages in casual sex, cruises Grindr for hook ups, and lives a relatively impulsive existence. In fact, a hook up app hatches his first date with William (Nina Terese Rask), if you could call it that. William comes over to Johan’s place, and to Johan’s surprise, he discovers that William is transgender. Johan, a bottom, seems more accustomed to traditional gay men. There is an energy between the two of them that speaks to something more than a casual hookup. Rask and Andersen truly embody every nuanced emotion together, with a laser-focused intimacy in their interactions. Back at work, Johan’s boss gives him some sage advice: “if you want something from life, you need to grab it, whether that’s money or cock.” Truer words have perhaps never been spoken.
Things get prickly and more complicated when Johan brings William into Adonis to get their freak on in one of the rooms. William promptly gets kicked out, being explicitly told that women are not allowed in Adonis despite William identifying as a man using he and him pronouns. This changes their connection irrevocably—on the one hand, Johan works at the sauna, but on the other, William has been done a clear prejudiced injustice. The moral complexity here makes for a rich talking point. This also pushes Sauna into its true thematic thrust. Can Johan find love in a man who has transitioned? The two form a tumultuous bond, calling into question whether their relationship is a toxic one.
These characters are flawed, but oftentimes frustratingly so. Johan in particular becomes infuriating as we get further into the narrative, making too many questionable decisions to keep track. In particular, a haunting late-in-the-game sequence at the sauna was scarring enough to bring tears to my eyes. While Johan’s struggles are paramount to what we see unfold, William is going through more than enough on his own. He has major challenges trying to get hormones approved, and grappling with the social pressures of such a relationship puts even more stress on his plate. That so much remains unsolved by the conclusion is cause for yet further annoyance. There are times when a film’s ambiguous nature make it all the more memorable, such as last year’s masterful I Saw the TV Glow. Sauna does not provide a tidy revolution, instead appearing to emphasize the cyclical nature of Johan’s tragedy. For feel-good entertainment, look elsewhere. Sauna harshly revels in its downbeat cynicism, often detrimental to the positive boxes it otherwise manages to check off.
Sauna screened at 2025’s Sundance Film Festival.
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