The famous 1800s Irish author is claimed to have once said, "Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power." Director Zachary Wigon's Sanctuary, released last year at TIFF and in the United States in May, takes Wilde's quote to its fullest extent to strong feature debut success.

Living in New York, very few new films capture the attention of my 20-something social cohort, but Sanctuary somehow succeeded where far bigger-budget studio tentpoles have failed in the post-COVID moviegoing world. After it was the subject of conversations at the bar, chats at house parties, and many a friend's Letterboxd review, I knew I had to see it in theatres. 

After the movie opens with some color-blur credits unfortunately evocative of Instagram story backgrounds or iMovie transitions, we're thrust into the POV perspective of Hal, the put-upon corporate heir apparent main character, as he looks down at a watch and out at a cityscape (obviously urban like Chicago, New York, or even Seattle, but later unconvincingly mentioned to be Denver). He's nervously gearing up for what appears to be a deposition in his hotel room with the simultaneously hardball and naïve Rebecca. The interview is quickly revealed to be an act — Rebecca is a BDSM sex worker, playing off a script written by Hal — and that reveal is the first of many as the plot takes twists and turns in its crisp 96-minute runtime, sharply cutting back and forth but never going off the rails. 

Hal, played perfectly by a doe-eyed, furrow-browed Christopher Abbott, is plagued by his father's expectations and pressures from his board. Rebecca, played with exceeding nuance by Margaret Qualley (a carbon copy, updated for the 21st century, of her mom Andie MacDowell), likes Hal as a person, but is disappointed when he doesn't acknowledge what she believes is her contribution to his success outside the bedroom. Thus begins their dual within the simultaneously expansive and claustrophobic top-floor suite (colored in bright reds and blues that clash in the same way as the suite's residents). Everything comes back to sex for the two, as Rebecca contends that their "sessions" have empowered Hal in the workplace, while Hal retorts that they were just whimsical, personal, internal, meaningless things. 

The two agree on one thing: at the end of the day, it's all been a game. And as the camera flips over again halfway through the film, effectively taking us outside of Hal's head and into Rebecca's, we start to see how happy the two are to play that game, exchanging power through threats, money, verbal and physical barbs. Up to the final scene, Wigon especially plays with the fact that Qualley and MacDowell are related, effectively updating the latter's famous rom-coms for a more cynical, more modern audience. Moreover, he makes capable use of the gender roles — contrary to many movies in this subgenre, there is no overt nudity or crass moments that would be traps for many more amateur filmmakers, and memorable scenes have Qualley playing Hal's father or Abbott taking an explicitly feminine and submissive role.

And every time that Rebecca walks out of the suite and presses the elevator button, we know that the story isn't over — even when the movie is.