Sanctuary

By most metrics, I watch a lot of movies. I don’t see that as positive or negative, it’s just true. Of course, you’d expect that from someone who keeps a movie blog. Why else would I spend so much time and effort writing about them? Since starting this Substack a little over three months ago, I’ve reviewed forty-one new releases, one movie from 2021, and have one in the can for Showing Up, which I’ll publish once it hits streaming. Watching so much stuff made and released around the same time reveals patterns: in their humor, in their construction, in their plot devices, in their character development. While you can of course take note of such things while watching fewer, they stand in ever starker relief as a whole. Humans are creatures of habit, and we’re comforted by patterns and the familiar.

Which is why I will always have a ton of respect for a movie that tries to be something different. I think that may be one of the key differences between casual movie watchers and the approach taken by movie fanatics. Speaking for myself here, I’m likely to give a few points to a movie which is Trying Something even if it doesn’t work (e.g. Inside), whereas I’m bound to be less enamored with a film I find predictable (e.g. Fool’s Paradise). So when I heard about Sanctuary, a thriller about a CEO-to-be who’s being extorted by the dominatrix he’s been seeing for years, I was 100% on board.

The plot isn’t much more complicated than that. We open on a scene in which Hal Porterfield (Christopher Abbott) is being deposed by Rebecca Morin (Margaret Qualley) with regards to his upcoming promotion. The questions quickly take a turn for the humiliating, before he breaks character to chastise her for going off script, which yields way to the true nature and intensity of their relationship. It’s around here the movie very squarely puts us off our footing, asking us to consider just how much of what we’re about to see is scripted versus not. All of which is established before Rebecca finds out Hal will be dropping her, and she issues her threat: he needs to pay her half his salary for the first year, or she’ll publish the video she secretly took of their sessions. Cue the cat and mouse game!

It’s tempting to call this an erotic thriller, except that the movie is mostly unconcerned with sex and sexuality. Even before things take a turn, Hal’s whole thing is a no-touch humiliation kink, where Rebecca bosses him around and treats him like dirt in various ways before she allows him to jerk off. She never removes any clothing, we only get one small shot of Hal in his briefs, and the rest of the time that he’s shirtless (which isn’t a lot) he’s largely filmed from the armpits up. There isn’t even that much sexual tension between them, although it’s not entirely absent.

None of that is bad, per se. It’s not a failing, it’s just somewhat surprising that a movie with this premise is so chaste. But clearly, director Zachary Wigon was far more focused on power dynamics and privilege and relationships more broadly than direct physical intimacy. It will probably successfully bring the heat for some audience members, but it’s definitely another point for the argument that modern American movies undervalue titillation.

Instead, the intrigue is all about how they navigate the escalating stakes. The biggest intensifications are marked by Rebecca leaving the apartment before returning to demand more, dividing the movie into a handful of sections. Throughout all, it’s clear that she’s improvising, but she’s a very clever and observant woman, using everything she can against him to try to secure her own financial position into the future. For example, we see her flip through a book while Hal’s out of the room about his father, and uses information clearly gleaned from it later. And as she starts trying to get more and more out of him, her tactics similarly shift in some pretty stark and fascinating ways.

I’m being deliberately vague, because I really want you to experience the ebbs and flows of Hal and Rebecca’s behavior with as little knowledge of the specifics as possible. They’re not spoilers, technically, but I feel they’re best experienced in context.

The sharp and harsh nature of the movie serves it well in exploring the dynamics of power, how it shifts, and how it’s wielded. For much of it, Rebecca is clearly in control, and firm but carefree about it. At one point, after revealing the existence of the video, she puts on some music and dances around while Hal tears apart the place trying to find the camera. He’s clearly no intellectual match for her, having been served everything in his life on a silver platter (something he acknowledges). Hal’s only move is the threat of violence, claiming he can make her disappear easily if he wanted to. It’s an actualization of the old saying: “Men are afraid women will humiliate them; women are afraid men will kill them”. Other than that, all he’s got is impotent rage.

Which tempers the story a bit. Hal comes across kind of flat and boring. Their combat mostly comes from Rebecca trying to increase her take, and her enjoyment of driving him up a wall doing so. She’s a very clever and resourceful and intelligent and driven woman, while he’s just kind of…there. That his only power is physical is well taken, but makes for a less interesting character. Which leads to an eye rolling moment where he tries to get some collateral from her on goodwill, seemingly not understanding that she has absolutely zero incentive to go along with it, and in fact deepening his predicament. It all still mostly works, because Qualley is absolutely fantastic here, an absolute joy to watch. But there were a number of points I was taken out of the story by the screenplay poking through.

It also leads to somewhat strained allegiances as an audience. We’re on Rebecca’s side, sure: she’s the more interesting character, and he’s a rich boy who’s about to inherit a company because of nepotism. However, by abusing her profession, one based on privacy and mutual trust, to extort someone who hasn’t wronged her (or anyone, as far we know), she’s cast in a shady light. Granted, some of his behavior as the story unfolds is abhorrent, so maybe he’s not as innocent as we’ve been led to believe. But her justification is the self-aggrandizing claim that he’s only fit for the job because of her. Therapy (of all sorts) is obviously important and has a strong positive impact, especially on someone with as much baggage as Hal. Yet no therapist in their right mind would claim sole ownership over your progress. Of course, this is a movie, and some reveals later on indicate maybe their’s more underlying…well, everything, than we think at first. Who’s to say she’s doing anything other than trying to get him to believe it, regardless of her own thoughts? But it causes us to side-eye here from jump, which is an odd choice. It’s to Qualley’s great credit that she makes it work.

There’s so much more to dive into, especially the implications of a few threads that come together near the end, as well as some specific late moments to unpack. But alas, you’ll have to discover those for yourself.

It’s a compelling story, framed in an interesting way, with one and a half great characters. It hits more often than it stumbles, and keeps the whole ship together for the entire runtime, managing to keep you on edge throughout. And at its core, isn’t that what you want from a thriller?