Sex work is something that no one likes to talk about; this especially true for those who could actually do something to effect change. Supporting legislation in favor of sex workers’ rights is practically a death sentence for most politicians. Many powerful people simply condemn the profession to appease the most conservative among their constituents. As a result, sex workers must live in the shadows in order to save “respectable” society from having to deal with them. On rare occasion, they are paraded in front of the masses to show the consequences of choosing such a “perverse” lifestyle.
However this is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Take away a person’s ability to legally work, relegate them to the most dangerous corners of society, ensure that they are in constant misery and squalor, and suddenly these men and women become evidence of the innate sinfulness of their jobs. Essentially, reality is removed to ensure that sex workers are never treated with dignity. This is the misleading narrative that Argentine director Anahí Berneri attempts to circumvent in her beautiful and troubling film, Alanis.
Berneri juxtaposes realism with existential urgency in Alanis, producing a kind of anxiety that would not be out of place in a horror film. However, Alanis isn’t really meant to be a horror film, at least not in the traditional sense. It is horror insofar as the reality of a sex worker’s life is horrific; not because of the perception of sinfulness or any other nonsense like that, but because there is a systemic loathing of the profession that makes their lives terrifying.
Imagine that you need to pay your rent and feed your baby, but the economy is in the tank and jobs are scarce, so you begin working as an escort. You find clients through various sources, and host them in your private apartment. Your neighbors bemoan the foot traffic and apparent depravity of your life, and decide to notify the authorities. You narrowly escape arrest, but are ousted from your apartment in the process. To add insult to injury, the only way to maintain your business — your phone — is confiscated by the police. So, you are homeless, penniless, jobless, and yet people actively despise and judge you for making “all the wrong choices.”
This is the situation in which our eponymous heroine, Alanis (brilliantly portrayed by Sofía Gala), finds herself. She is a single mother trying to make ends meet amid the hustle and bustle of Buenos Aires. People are generally indifferent to her plight; after all, everyone is facing a hard time, so why should her problems be given priority?
Despite her circumstances, Alanis is an incredibly strong person; we don’t see her breaking down in tears or giving up when things seem particularly bleak. At the same time, she is not without fault. She occasionally takes advantage of the kindness of others and does whatever is necessary to provide for her family. In short, she looks and acts like a real human being.
Gala’s portrayal of Alanis is perfect, dancing the line between victim and resilient heroine. The most consistent trait she gives the character is a laser-like focus on survival; she keeps things professional at all times, only showing emotion when dealing with her infant son. This makes sense, as there isn’t much time for emotion in her life. When you don’t know how you’re going to pay for food or find a place to sleep, you literally can’t afford to have a moment of weakness.
The film bears some resemblance to the 2014 French drama, Deux Jours, Une Nuit (Two Days, One Night), in which Marion Cotillard plays a woman desperate to win back her job over the course of a weekend. While the stories are somewhat different (and the two actresses take different approaches to their respective roles), the effect they both have on the audience is the same. We are given an intimate look into the life of the protagonist over the course of a few days. In each case, both money and time are running short. Our anxiety builds every time another door is slammed in their face. These films do not need to toy with our emotions with lots of tears or dramatic music; the story and images make us yearn for some kind of resolution to the chaos. These are innately human stories that naturally produce (or at least should naturally produce) a great deal of empathy for these women.
The script pulls no punches, providing an unfiltered look into the life of a sex worker. Cheap and abusive clients, aggressive police, endless bureaucracy, judgmental neighbors, friends, and even family — these are all a daily reality for Alanis and her fellow sex workers. Whenever you think that the situation could not get worse, society finds a way to make these people jump through one more hoop just to put food on the table.
Though this all sounds pretty morbid (and it is), Alanis is an exceptional film. The sex industry is often misunderstood, so it is great that films like Alanis are getting more exposure. And it is not just a beautiful story with excellent cinematography and a fantastic performance by Sofía Gala; it is also a vitally important film. We cannot turn a blind eye to people like Alanis any longer, and this film does its part to spread awareness. I highly recommend it for all film fans, as well as anyone who wants to learn more about the seemingly endless difficulties that sex workers face.
Rating: ★★★★½ out of 5
Alanis is available to rent, purchase or stream via Amazon here.