Sex Review: Dag Johan Haugerud’s Charming Depiction of Men in Turmoil Unravels Identity

      An often overlooked truth is that our desires change as we grow older, often without our realization. When this happens, the language we use to define ourselves and others must go through a process of reevaluation, allowing us to create a new lexicon. In the initial segment of Norwegian novelist-turned-filmmaker Dag Johan Haugerud’s Oslo Trilogy, titled Sex––followed by Love and culminating with Dreams, which won the Golden Bear at the 2025 Berlin Film Festival––we are introduced to two middle-aged chimney sweeps who confess their personal identity crises, leaving them feeling confused and distressed.

      The first, Avdelingsleder (Thorbjørn Harr), shares a dream in which David Bowie looks at him as if he were a woman, leaving him with a soothing sensation that persists into his waking life. The second, Feier (Jan Gunnar Røise), reflects on a recent, unanticipated but enjoyable sexual experience with a male client that jeopardizes his 20-year marriage to Revisor (a humorously tragic Siri Forberg)––not due to betrayal itself, but because he fundamentally does not consider his actions as cheating. The ethical and moral questions––influenced by thinkers like Hannah Arendt and Freud––that critique monogamy and Christianity are likely to spark discussions after the film.

      While the content is significant, the striking element of Haugerud's trilogy lies in the vibrant style he has developed. This is evident in Peder Capjon Kjellsby’s jazzy, synth-heavy piano score and in cinematographer Cecilie Semec’s use of zooms, pans, and frustratingly cropped frames, making each of editor Jens Christian Fodstad’s angle shifts an unexpected delight. Alongside Joachim Trier (The Worst Person in the World) and Kristoffer Borgli (Sick of Myself), Haugerud is a welcome addition to a Nordic New Wave that coolly and wittily examines contemporary personal conflicts within the context of outdated societal norms in capital cities, which ironically evoke a sense of vastness while simultaneously reducing individuals to clichés.

      “Your back is straight when you’re happy,” Revisor tells her husband. “Full of confidence. It’s very appealing. It’s like you’re open to anyone or anything.” This poignant and insightful observation serves as a reminder that those who love us often perceive us more truthfully than we see ourselves, a notion emphasized by a doctor (an outstanding Anne Marie Ottersen) who recounts the tale of a couple troubled by a crude tattoo.

      Some narratives lose momentum––for example, Avdelingsleder’s story leads him to become convinced that his voice has risen and develops a paranoia about becoming a woman, which is unsettlingly echoed by his wife Sosionom (Birgitte Larsen), who discusses someone who has undergone gender-affirming surgery. “At its core,” she explains, “it’s about reaching a point where you feel free.” This pivotal moment, where one's connection to personal and political freedom becomes unsettled, finds these characters grappling with redefining their desires and recalibrating their understanding of intimacy.

      Haugerud has expressed that Sex is more centered on love––while Love focuses on sex––presenting a film rich with ideas where “sex,” as both action and identity, is thoughtfully examined in pursuit of an elusive essence. “I don’t think you should view these dreams as a problem,” Sosionom advises her conflicted husband. “Consider it God’s way of indicating that you can encompass it all. You can find peace in that knowledge.” Rather than offering resolution, Haugerud suggests that this understanding is our sole source of comfort.

      Sex premieres on Friday, June 13.