In the documentary Labor, Hanna travels from Sweden to the queer scene in San Francisco, where she eventually begins making a living by selling her body. Despite being well-crafted in many respects, the film presents an uncritical portrayal of prostitution, which risks normalizing paid exploitation. At worst, it could serve as an advertisement for prostitution as a legitimate way to earn large sums of money. For further insight, read Robert Schenck’s review.
Director: Tove Pils
World premiere at Gothenburg Film Festival 2023
Documentary, 96 minutes
Swedish distribution: Folkets Bio
In 2021, the feature film Pleasure, exploring the Californian porn industry, had its European premiere at the Gothenburg Film Festival. While the current documentary Labor is different in many ways, the two films share notable similarities. In both, a young Swedish woman travels to California and becomes involved in the sex industry. Pleasure was a well-acted, non-judgmental film featuring many explicit scenes, often portraying the protagonist in degrading situations. It was clear to me that the vulnerable women and men in Pleasure were deeply traumatized. However, the major flaw of the film was its failure to critically address the sex industry, leading to a surprising normalization and acceptance of sexual exploitation among many viewers.
Labor is, as I mentioned earlier, a different kind of film compared to Pleasure, but like Pleasure, it remains both non-judgmental and uncritical of the sex industry. This lack of critique leads to a normalization of prostitution, turning the film (I fear) into an advertisement for paid abuse, particularly for the young adults in the audience.
In Labor, the protagonist, Hanna, leaves her partner Emma in Sweden to immerse herself in San Francisco’s queer scene. Before long, she teams up with Cyd and Chloe, who introduce her to the world of “sex workers.” The consistent use of the term “sex work” reflects both the characters’ (and possibly the film’s) attempts to normalize sexual exploitation, while also adopting the dominant American terminology. Despite this, the film portrays its three main characters with great tenderness. From the outset, Hanna explains that she will remain anonymous throughout the documentary, and a recurring theme is her desire and overwhelming fear of telling her parents in Sweden that she is selling her body. Spanning a ten-year period, director Tove Pil crafts a dynamic and compelling narrative about the journey of three young people navigating a complex and challenging world.
As is often the case, the large sums of money that Cyd and Chloe earn are a major factor in their attachment to “sex work.” These earnings far surpass what they could make from their traditional jobs or studies. By the end of the film, both continue “part-time” in prostitution alongside other work or education to maintain the lifestyle they’ve become accustomed to in the notoriously expensive San Francisco. This normalization in the film, unfortunately, suggests that options like a “Sugar Daddy solution” may appear acceptable or even reasonable for young people in a Swedish context.
In the film’s final scenes, Cyd reflects on the difficulty of separating voluntary, pleasurable sex in her committed relationship from the acts performed for money. She expresses her hope to have children in her relationship and then become a porn star, planning to cash in on the coveted queer-pregnant niche. A deeply disturbing thought.