SEQUIN IN A BLUE ROOM
Sequin in a Blue Room explores a teenage boy’s burgeoning sexual desires through an obsession with anonymous, no-strings encounters. Director and co-writer Samuel Van Grinsven writes why he never wanted to make the film… but is glad he did
Director Samuel Van Grinsven on putting his twist on the queer coming-of-age narrative
Inever wanted to make a coming-of-age film. At least, I didn’t think I did. Growing up in a deeply conservative part of Australia, queer stories were few and far between. Those that did break through were often focused on the teenage years, as coming out often walks hand in hand with coming of age. I cherished those stories, those characters and even those singular scenes that featured someone remotely like me. The queer representation that broke through usually did so because it was palatable — stories that left the door open wide enough to welcome in an audience beyond our community.
However, back then, my experience of being a queer teenager was nothing like what I saw in those films. It was isolating and often violent, but it was also a time of liberating sexual discovery on demand, as well as identity-defining courage. Those experiences didn’t make it to screen.
But within our rich and diverse queer community, I found other men my age who looked and sounded like me.
Fast-forward years later, and the streaming boom coupled with political progress means that more authentic, independent and honest work is able to reach audiences. But when it came to writing my first feature film, I still had that teenage voice in my head telling me that I should be grateful for the coming-of-age stories that I’d had, that those had been more than enough. So, why waste my story telling yet another tale of teenage self-discovery?
That inner voice changed when I discovered and fell in love with New Queer Cinema, the 90s film movement most known for the early works of filmmakers such as Gregg Araki and Gus Van Sant, who brought an infectious freedom and youthful energy to the screen. They were stories that were honest about where they came from, but unafraid to play with form and genre. Unashamed to be queer and not remotely concerned with being palatable, they depicted a proud courage on screen, the same sentiment I remembered feeling as a young man.
Sequin in a Blue Room (reviewed on page 125) came from exactly that: an attempt to capture the unique confidence, agency and tensions of a queer teenager in the digital age. However, this is a story that is not concerned with the conflict of coming out, but in which sexual discovery is not only easy, but accelerated. I wanted to capture the experiences of differing generations of queer people colliding in a hookup app, where self-assured Sequin, the teenage protagonist, comes face to face with a diverse set of challenges.
Sequin’s affinity for instant, no-strings hookups isn’t born from a necessity for secrecy, but rather from his formative sexual experiences being tied to a legacy of transgression. As a gay and sexually active teenager, I found that I grew up faster than my straight peers, which often led to sexual encounters with older men, be it because I was seeking maturity or because older men are more comfortable in their sexuality. In the film, Sequin bumps his online age up to 18, although he is acutely self-aware of the ‘twink’ culture that makes him desirable in the eyes of many. That’s an uncomfortable reality for a lot of viewers, queer or otherwise, but a reality that stems from my own experience. Through screening the film, I have found that to be the truth for many people around the world.
Unlike other protagonists typical of the genre, Sequin’s father openly accepts his son’s sexuality. But in the world of the hookup app, Sequin is drawn to men who hide theirs. At school, Sequin is out and confident in his identity, but is drawn to sexual spaces like the Blue Room, where anonymity is not only encouraged, but enforced. It’s the tension that boils away within that generational divide that lands Sequin in danger. The confidence, privilege and sexual liberation of his generation propels him out of love to search for a man who wishes to remain nameless. Sequin’s obsessive search stems from the catand-mouse sexual culture he picks up in the Blue Room. Off-screen, audience responses to Sequin’s actions have varied from generation to generation.
Perhaps on a subconscious level, in choosing to contribute to the queer coming-of-age genre, I was attempting to define my own experiences against that of others in much the same way that Sequin does. As storytellers, us filmmakers speak across generations to chart a history of our similarities and differences, adding another piece to the queer coming-of-age storytelling tradition in the hope that we can each of us experience that defining moment when we see ourselves reflected on screen.
Sequin in a Blue Room is released via Peccadillo Pictures on UK/Ireland & North America digital platforms from 9 April. SequinInaBlueRoom.film
“Being a queer teenager was isolating and often violent”