Samuel Van Grinsven’s Sequin in a Blue Room explores the digital world of teenage gay sex by bravely and boldly examining one young man’s quest for anonymous sex and pleasure in a sweetshop full of enticing new tastes. Peccadillo Pictures release Sequin in a Blue Room on UK/Ireland & North American digital platforms from 9th April. SequinInaBlueRoom.film
Ask any gay man about their first experience of gay sex, and many will talk about the excitement, apprehension, fear and doubt of their first encounters. For many gay men of my generation, first meetings were secret and full of risk, often kept hidden from public view. Some of us flirted with the social danger of a local gay cottage or cruising on a wet Saturday afternoon. In contrast, others resorted to clandestine meetings out of public view. In the years since, gay confidence has grown, but has the risk of cottaging or cruising diminished in the new online world of gay hookups?
Cruising was inherently risky for teenage boys who were just starting to find their feet. In secluded areas or rundown toilet blocks in the heart of town, men of all ages hoped they would catch a bite, leading to a brief non-verbal acknowledgement and a quick sexual release. These meetings could be scary and abrupt, but also full of addictive adrenaline and risk.
The arrival of online gay dating apps such as Grindr marked the beginning of the end for many local gay cottages and cruising grounds, with many arguing that the apps freed gay men from their years of hiding. But is this new digital world any safer for young gay men? After all, many of these gay apps are full of blank profiles, faceless pictures and unknown identities.
Samuel Van Grinsven’s Sequin in a Blue Room explores the digital world of teenage gay sex by bravely and boldly examining one young man’s quest for anonymous sex and pleasure in a sweetshop full of enticing new tastes. I recently caught up with director Samuel Van Grinsven to explore the urgent and important social themes held in Sequin in a Blue Room.
Q: Can you tell us about the film’s journey from page to screen?
Samuel- I found and fell in love with the ’90s film movement of New Queer Cinema. The early works of filmmakers like Gregg Araki and Gus Van Sant brought infectious freedom and youthful energy to the screen, telling honest stories about their origins but unafraid to experiment with form and genre. Unashamed to be queer and not remotely concerned with being palatable. It was courage on screen – courage that I remembered feeling as a teenager coming of age.
Sequin in a Blue Room came from exactly that, an attempt to capture the unique confidence, agency and tensions of a queer teenager in the digital age; to see my experience reflected. It’s a coming-of-age story that is not remotely concerned with coming out, where sexual discovery is not only easy but accelerated, where vastly different generations and experiences of being queer collide within a single hookup app, where self-assured Sequin, the 16-year-old protagonist, faces a different set of challenges than we expect from the tried-and-true genre.
Q: Conor Leach’s central performance is compelling. How did you go about casting Conor? And was it challenging to find a young actor who could embody the complexity, innocence and confidence of ‘Sequin’?
Very challenging! Australia is still a largely conservative country in many ways, and we indeed found that in the initial responses to the screenplay. Of course, some of that was warranted. I am a new director, and making a film like this requires building trust. But we were lucky to be championed by key actors and the industry in our search for the right cast.
Conor had just graduated from acting school in Melbourne, and this film was one of the first roles his agent had put him forward for. I actually looked at him and wasn’t initially interested until his agent reached out directly and asked if he could do a self-tape. He did, and to this day, I have only ever watched the first two lines – he instantly brought self-awareness and power to Sequin, which I think we so often miss when portraying young queer characters. When I look back on my own coming-of-age, I have memories of being surrounded by immense courage and conviction in queer identity despite the odds – Conor brought that, and it was instantly refreshing and challenging. He was on a plane to Sydney within a couple of days and was offered the role on the spot.
Q: Was it always your intention to explore the online world of online hookups and vulnerability?
You’re never entirely sure what an audience will find challenging or bold in a film; you discover it at different stages of the filmmaking process. Some scenes hit hard on set; you could feel it in the cast and crew – a palpable tension. Some scenes hit harder in the edit. There was a day I walked in to check on the editor, Tim. He told me to sit down and watch a scene, but he was going to press play and head home. I did as he said and instantly understood why: he had just spent 8 hours editing a scene that is still incredibly difficult for me to watch to this day.
Yes, there is demanding and challenging content in the film, but I never set out to shock – the response from audiences is a response to honesty. I wanted to be honest about experiences in my community, but also share some of my own truths from my journey as a queer youth. I think there are many overdue discussions within the queer community, especially the gay male community. It’s been a fantastic experience engaging in conversations about this film, whether in audience Q&A screenings, interviews, or online.
I think that is also an interesting part of where we are currently in the history of queer film. In recent decades, queer stories that reach a wider audience are often concerned with looking outward. Whether it’s biopics or historical dramas, we’ve been playing catch-up, finally sharing the stories we couldn’t share for so long. But now, with more queer films finding an audience, we are seeing conversations that look inward. Stories by us, for us. That’s not only important, but it’s also exciting and necessary.
Q: I remember secretive gay meetings in public places long before the hookup app arrived. Do you feel the landscape has changed for young gay men in terms of the risks attached to their first sexual experiences?
That element is at play thematically in this film. There is a lot of queer theory written about this very subject. The idea of cycles of transgression – that for many queer people, their first sexual experiences are acts of transgression, from that, a sexual pattern can develop where we may continue to seek out sexual experiences that are viewed as transgressive. That becomes an interesting theory when paired with the social progress of equality. It’s something I was questioning myself about in the gay world immediately around me.
I do think a lot has changed, but that doesn’t mean it’s a more positive experience for everyone, though. I’m in my late 20s now, and there were certainly risks for me, and I have spoken with people in their early 20s who experienced the same risks in new ways. That’s the interesting tension point Sequin in a Blue Room places itself in – a unique period of time in which vastly different experiences of being queer collide within a digital platform.
Q: Sequin’s journey explores the excitement and confidence many young people display when using an app in the safety of their bedroom. But the world can be scary, and online hookups are far from risk-free. Do you think young people fully comprehend that when creating a profile?
Young people, especially young queer people, are much smarter and more independent than we give them credit for. Firstly, we are talking about a generation that knows how to use social technology better than any other. They can spot a fake, sense a dangerous situation, and know what to look for. Is that always the case? No, but when writing Sequin as a character, it was one of our key aims – to bring to the screen a 16-year-old queer man who has the true agency and courage you see in youth today.
That’s not what leads Sequin into dangerous situations. It’s the hubris of youth and his belief in his invincibility. In many ways, Sequin knows more about this world in the film than the older generations he interacts with. But it’s the selfishness and naivety of Sequin that is his downfall.
Q: I don’t know of any gay man (including myself) who hasn’t used a gay dating app at some point. Do we, as a community, need to discuss mental health and apps more?
Yes, more needs to be done. A part of that is looking at the underlying issues that are only heightened on these apps. That’s everything from racism to body shaming. We need to be more honest and active in fighting the fact that, for some reason, largely gay men believe it is okay to be explicitly racist or sizeist via their profiles on these apps than they are in real life. The outcomes of that are incredibly damaging. Queer film and art are a part of pushing that conversation to the surface, and to do that, we have to show it honestly for what it is.
Q: Sequin in a Blue Room raises discussions on the importance of terminology and labels. Do you feel that gay communities are at risk of labelling themselves based purely on sexual preferences?
That’s a tricky one. I think these terms are so much a part of queer culture now that trying to lose them is probably an uphill climb. I think we’re already seeing a rapid decline in damaging terminology that harms self-identity or others. So, there is a self-policing happening that is somewhat positive. I also think you have to look at the most popular terminology for what it is and not be shy about it. Primarily, these terms are used to speed up the process of casual sex via apps designed for precisely that. I don’t think you see these terms as prevalent in other apps that are more tailored toward relationships, for example. There is no denying that gay culture is an openly sexual culture; these terms are authentically born from that, and I think there is enough awareness of that out there.
Q: Many people have a positive experience with online dating apps. However, do we risk losing the more personal approach of conversation, physical groups and connection in our new online worlds?
It’s a double-edged sword; the app experience can and has been traced to the closure of physical queer spaces that used to serve as community or meeting places. On the other hand, the positives of identity and sexual exploration that come with these apps can’t be disregarded. I would also be the first to say that I have had transformative points of connection and communication via apps. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.
A lot has changed in the Western queer community in a very short space of time. Something I am passionate about here in Australia is preserving our physical history, including our gay bars, clubs, bathhouses, and meeting places. It’s about viewing these spaces as more than just physical versions of their online counterparts; they are spaces of our living history, of our survival and liberation, and we need to band together as a community to protect and share them with new generations, helping keep our story alive.
Q: In a world where COVID-19 has dramatically altered the landscape of our social connections, do you feel the use of hookup apps will also change to reflect this?
I think they already have. We are seeing pop-up online bars, queer gaming meet-ups, watch parties and more live streams; those spaces inevitably lead to new forms of social connections. I have also noticed a dramatic shift in people’s comfort with video calls and how dating and hookup apps have adapted to that. If 2020 taught us anything, it’s how fast we can adapt. Because of that, I think a new, genuine intimacy is being found virtually that we used to think only existed in person. Of course, it will go the other way once we’re out of this, but I don’t see us letting that go entirely.
Q: Finally, what do you hope people take away from Sequin in a Blue Room?
Firstly, I hope they are entertained and enjoy the film. Secondly, I hope that people see a part of themselves in Sequin’s story, whether it’s the specificity of a digital queer coming-of-age or the human story of searching for yourself in your youth and making mistakes as you grow up too fast along the way.
Follow Us