We first meet Tomas (Franz Rogowski) bullying an extra on the set of his new film. Apparently, the poor guy isn’t walking down some steps in quite the way he should. At the wrap party after, Tomas’ husband, Martin (Ben Whishaw), leaves early, and then Tomas spots Agathe (Adèle Exarchopoulos), an ethereal presence on the dancefloor.
Tomas is the kind of guy who knows exactly what he wants, and by that we mean he wants everything all at once. So with Martin back home, Tomas decides to pursue Agathe, simply because he can. He’s hungry for her, and she’s smitten by him. Together, the pair start to gyrate as sweat and music pulsate in the air around them.
Related“Most people don’t even dare to ask the things that he did, and they’re more respectful.” #url#
That’s not all that pulsates: Back at Agathe’s place, things immediately turn physical. Tomas in particular seems overcome with lust, hands everywhere, but there’s nothing gratuitous about the sex itself. Director Ira Sachs simply films what he sees with a long take that watches on as Tomas and Adele make each other come, uninterrupted.
Tomas dominates the frame, and that’s because he’s the driving force here, the one whose newfound attraction sets the stage for all the chaos that follows. Because Tomas is chaos. He thrives on instinct, doing what he wants and who he wants without any regard for others. It’s almost impressive how narcissistic he is, yet there’s something uncomfortably appealing about it: Tomas is the ultimate sexy fuckboy.
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That’s why this sex scene is so pivotal to Passages as a whole. You need to believe this immediate attraction between them to make sense of everything that happens next. It’s so electric and so ferocious that of course Tomas would want to leave Martin when he disapproves. Why wouldn’t he?
After one brief argument, we next see Tomas moving into Agathe’s place, but he soon grows jealous of Martin’s new affair with a very sexy and very successful writer. But surprise surprise, it’s not long before the petulant man-child worms his way back in with Martin and sleeps with him in the film’s second, pelvis-shattering sex scene.
Except the sex isn’t rough, and just like with Agathe, it’s not gratuitous either. You’d think from all the chat on Gay Twitter™ that this scene would be a veritable sausage-fest, but it’s not the nudity itself that’s got horny critics talking.
In fact, you don’t actually see anything overly explicit when Rogowski and Whishaw start fucking. There are no penis close-ups like the one Infinity Pool gave us. Instead, it’s all raised thighs and thrusting butts as Martin tops Tomas.
He thrives on instinct, doing what he wants and who he wants without any regard for others. It’s almost impressive how narcissistic he is, yet there’s something uncomfortably appealing about it: Tomas is the ultimate sexy fuckboy.
That’s a very deliberate choice to make, and not because of any prudishness or embarrassment on the actors’ part. By obscuring their faces, we’re pulled out of the story on purpose, just like Martin and Tomas themselves are suddenly pulled out of all their drama. There’s no time to think about who did what and who said what when they’re wrapped up in the throes of pleasure.
By framing the sex in this way, we’re also forced to focus on the chemistry they share without being distracted by any dangly bits. Like the previous sex scene, Sachs opts for a long take that makes us really take in the rhythms of their fucking. And it’s in those rhythms that Passages gets gay sex so right.
Every noise, every angle, every shift in position just feels real and authentic in ways rarely seen on screen even now. You can absolutely tell that a gay man is standing behind this camera, someone who is intimately familiar with the ways that men penetrate each other. And this familiarity extends to the chemistry shared between Martin and Tomas too.
Whereas Tomas seemed to ferociously devour Agathe, caught up in the lust of something fresh and new, there’s an innate understanding between the two ex-husbands, something that only comes with years of intimacy. This comfort they share isn’t passionless, it’s just familiar. That’s why what Tomas does next is even harder for Martin to bear. But we won’t get into that here.
Instead, we’re here to celebrate the thoughtful way that Ira Sachs portrays sex in his films, how it advances the narrative, and how the sex here in particular is imbued with some much-needed nuance, passion, and authenticity.
“I’m not comfortable directing sex in film,” Sachs recently admitted to Variety, but he’s extremely good at it nonetheless, so don’t be surprised if future filmmakers study how Sachs approaches all this in academic classes one day. And don’t be surprised if future baby gays enjoy a queer awakening when they watch these scenes out of class as well.
Let’s just hope they learn more from Sachs than they do Tomas. The last thing we need is a whole new generation of sexy fuckboys like him.♦