Sanctuary

Christopher Abbott and Margaret Qualley play a cat-and-mouse game of power, sex and intrigue in this manipulative psychological thriller.

“Sanctuary” is a twisted psychological thriller about a “couple” — you’ll understand the quote marks soon — whose relationship is an ongoing BDSM power struggle. Margaret Qualley (“Once Upon a Time in Hollywood”) and Christopher Abbott (“Possessor”) smartly exchange places on top and bottom (figuratively and otherwise) as they indulge in a game of domination, sex and intrigue.

Theirs is not an organic dynamic of dominatrix and submissive who happen to share a mutual kink, but a paid arrangement between a sex worker and a wealthy hotel heir. Director Zachary Wigon and screenwriter Micah Bloomberg gleefully test the audience’s perception about what story developments are real and what are just another iteration of their unending tease.

I’ll confess, as the scenario opened my eyes glazed over with disinterest. I don’t find BDSM stories particularly alluring, either as narrative fodder or as a personal thing. As I’ve said: I’ve got enough pain in my life, I don’t need it in the bedroom.

But things soon get more interesting and it becomes a dangerous, possibly deadly game of cat-and-mouse and one-upmanship. At times we find ourselves hissing at her and cheering for him, and then vice-versa a few minutes later. I appreciated the skillful, slightly subversive manipulation of the filmmakers.

(And yes, that’s a compliment. All movies manipulate. All good ones, anyway…)

BDSM doesn’t necessarily mean whips, leather and whatnot. In the case of Hal Porterfield (Abbott) and Rebecca (Qualley), they don’t actually have sex — or even touch. She shows up in one of his family’s 112 fancy hotels for a prearranged meeting in which she questions and taunts him about his fitness to take over the company after his father’s recent passing. We get the sense this has been going on for some time.

In this particular interlude, she arrives in a business suite and obvious blonde wig playing an attorney going over some paperwork the board of directors needs before Hal officially becomes CEO. I knew it was a wig because Qualley’s extravagant coiffure of dark curls is so intertwined with her screen persona, fresh face that she is, and costume changes would seem to be in the offing for their type of interaction.

Rebecca’s questions grow more intrusive and personal, Hal becomes increasingly evasive and resentful, she begins to berate and humiliate him, and things wind up about where we expect.

At this point, Hal has a surprise to uncork: this will be their last session. He thanks Rebecca for her assistance in helping him grow, explore the darker side of his nature and prepare to step into his dad’s shoes. There’s also the whole issue of becoming a famous business magnate who pays someone to get him off in off-kilter ways.

“If I’m gonna do this, I need to match up my insides with my outsides and be a person that I want people to see, a person who wins,” Hal says. He gives her an expensive watch as a thank-you gift, and they’re done.

But… not! Otherwise there wouldn’t be a movie.

Rebecca returns, and insists on a payout equal to her true worth. After all, she figures, Hal wouldn’t be in a position to collect an 8-figure salary + bonus without her building him up by breaking him down.

Threats are bandied about, there is some grappling and actual bondage, albeit briefly, and their power struggle reaches a fever pitch. Of course, it doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination to suppose that all this is just the next level of the game they were already playing.

It’s a strong, charismatic performance from Qualley, playing a woman who came from nothing and uses the massive chip on her shoulder to ante into the game with the big boys. We wonder about Rebecca’s other clients and if they’re of a similar economic strata as Hal — somehow, I don’t think she has any plumbers or schoolteachers among her clientele.

Abbott’s Hal is, by definition, riddled by self-doubt and masochism, so even though he would seem to be the one with the upper hand — at one point dropping hints about how easy it would be to make Rebecca disappear — she, and we, don’t ever really harbor any true fear of him.

No hints on where things end up in their little square-off, although I’ll say I found the finale a trifle boring, just as I did the beginning. The middle section’s got some fierce and darkly funny moments, maybe enough to scratch what itches in those dark corners we all hide.