Instead of the requisite meet-cute, the first act of Sanctuary<\/em> finds Hal (Christopher Abbott) trying to end his relationship with dominatrix Rebecca (Margaret Qualley) after a bit of roleplay in a chic luxury hotel suite. Their connection \u2014 as well as what prompts him to break it off \u2014 is at once purely business and yet so much more. Poised to take over his father\u2019s hotel empire after the older man\u2019s death, Hal worries that their relationship doesn\u2019t suit traditional ideas of what a CEO should be, and fears his secret getting out. Meanwhile, Rebecca doesn\u2019t want to stop seeing him, and she schemes to keep her their connection intact by any means necessary. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Rebecca is alternately coy and direct, playful and cutting, and the character veers from neatly contained to entirely feral. She behaves wildly, but it\u2019s all believable thanks to Qualley and her whirlwind of a performance. Abbott is less remarkable (perhaps only by default in comparison to Qualley\u2019s dynamic turn), but his character is less dominant than hers by design. He still complements her well, creating a combustible energy between the only two people in the film. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In other hands, Sanctuary<\/em> could feel like a stage adaptation, with its two characters interacting in a single setting over the course of less than 24 hours. Despite those constraints, Wigon and cinematographer Ludovica Isidori never appear limited, opting to use the camera and its full range of motion actively. Their energetic approach is most notable in a few moments where an unhinged Hal tears the hotel suite apart; it whips and whirls as he looks up, down, and around the saturated reds, blues, and yellows of Jason Singleton\u2019s set design. A bit more of this wild movement throughout the film could have made things even more interesting stylistically, but there\u2019s also something to be said for restraint. <\/p>\n\n\n\n With a script from Homecoming<\/em>\u2019s Micah Bloomberg, Sanctuary <\/em>is a seesaw of sexual games and power plays. It deftly balances discomfort with a brand of black comedy that\u2019s as likely to get a smirk as it is a bark of a laugh. The film is intentionally opaque in regards to what\u2019s going on or who\u2019s playing what game, to say nothing of who\u2019s winning or what\u2019s really at stake. What\u2019s so twisted about Sanctuary<\/em> isn\u2019t the sexual games played by its two central characters; it\u2019s the manipulative tactics they use to get what they want. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Wigon\u2019s debut, The Heart Machine<\/em>, was a more serious take on modern romance, but it relied on a similar sense of unease; it\u2019s fascinating to see the feeling deployed again by the filmmaker but in such a different manner. Wigon is clearly interested in relationships and relationship movies as a genre, and these first two films have demonstrated that he can come at the familiar topic from wildly different angles \u2014 both from his own work and how others tackle it on screen. For those who like their romances a bit off kilter, Sanctuary<\/em> provides the oasis of the title amongst a desert of standard love stories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Sanctuary” is in theaters Friday.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/05\/sanctuary2-1024x551.png\")
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Relatedly, even if Sanctuary <\/em>isn\u2019t your particular brand of kink, there\u2019s something undeniably hot about Wigon\u2019s film (though some scenes will be a bigger turn-on than others for the more vanilla viewers \u2014 or for those who can\u2019t find cleaning a bathroom sexy in any context). Nothing too<\/em> wild is present on screen, at least visually; Craig Mann\u2019s work as sound editor produces what might be the film\u2019s raunchiest moment. It all works well with how the film engages your imagination and is still strikingly intimate, even while it smartly refuses to show everything.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\nB+<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n