Synopsis
The Year I Started Masturbating (Året jag slutade prestera och började onanera) is a new example of a Swedish comedy-drama that is refreshingly sharp, blunt and deeply human, which premiered in 2022. The film was directed by Erika Wasserman and written by Christin Magdu and it tackles personal liberation alongside sexual awakening while also tackling social pressure and female empowerment. With tenderness and humor, it tells the story of one woman’s life unraveling and becoming the surprising starting point for her to reclaim her desires, independence and most importantly, her life.
The narrative follows Hanna (played by Katia Winter), a powered marketing professional in her late thirties, who is a fierce competitor residing in Stockholm. Hanna defines a high achiever in every sense of the word — well-organized, efficient, and always on top of things. For her, meeting goals is not an end, but rather the beginning of a challenge to exceed expectations and break the image of perfection she maintains both professionally and personally. She is working in marketing, dating Morten (Jesper Zuschlag), her boyfriend, and appears to be in a relationship that, by most standards, make her life follow a societal checklist of happiness.
But life, as we all know, is not as straightforward and predictable as one’s plans and for Hanna, it turns out, has other surprises in store.
When Morten rather vaguely expresses his dissatisfaction with the relationship and decides to terminate it, Hanna’s seemingly picture-perfect life starts falling apart. What begins as a heartbreak soon escalates to a severe identity crisis. Not only does Hanna lose her partner; she also loses the core of her identity, which had been success in her profession, a socially acceptable romantic partner, and the nagging pursuit of perfection.
Hanna now must face the chaotic void created by losing her partner. This unsolvable riddle compels her to start on a turbulent journey of self-discovery. Although provocative, the title of the film is not just another sensationalizing statement meant to catch the viewers’ attention; it embodies the spirit of the plot perfectly. For the first time in her life, Hanna starts a journey of self-discovery, seeking answers to where and in what forms, whether emotionally or physically, true joy and pleasure lie.
With the help of her free-spirited friend Carolin (Vera Carlbom), Hanna learns to reconsider the decisions made on the basis of societal norms. Freedom’s honest and unapologetic approach to life positions Carolin as both a side-splitting sidekick and wise mentor. She radically pushes and gives permission to Hanna to embrace her sexuality and indulge in her desires while curtailing the need to seek validation from loved ones.
While balancing comedy and emotion, the film portrays Hanna’s journey quite vividly. We see her fumble through dates, re-introducing herself to the concept of being alone, followed by struggling through therapy sessions that are simultaneously fun and touching. Each of these moments is executed with a surprising sincerity where humor, instead of flinging ridicule at her hardships, aims to illuminate the strange realities of contemporary life and the stressor for young adults of “having it all” done by a certain age.
Of note, the film also deals with female sexuality in a way that is largely absent in contemporary cinema. By removing the archaic stigma that surrounds female pleasure and self-love, the film portrays these concepts as empowering and natural. In the film, masturbation is a means of a woman reclaiming control over her life. It’s not simply about the act itself, but the process of being able to hear oneself and choose to prioritize unilateral self-interest over external expectations that have long surrounded her life.
Step by step, we see Hanna balancing her life in a way she deems suitable. She rekindles old friendships, which she had long neglected, picks up new interests, and comes to terms with defeat and profound isolation. Through this, her understanding of herself improves, resulting in future relationships being approached with confidence, rather than desperation to seek validation from others.
The conclusion of the film The Year I Started Masturbating is both rewarding and believable. True to its themes of personal autonomy and empowerment, the film does not give Hanna the fairy-tale ending of a romantic partner as a consolation prize. Her “happy ending” comes from not losing herself to someone else, but rather freeing herself completely, unapologetically, and with full recognition of her identity.
Cast and Crew
The Year I Started Masturbating is a remarkable film in large part due to its competent leads and assertive direction.
Katia Winter as Hanna: Winter portrays Hanna’s character with relatability and charm, bringing to life all the highs and lows of her emotional roller coaster. From heartbreak, to cringeworthy moments of comedy, to soft victories, Winter’s performance is universally relatable and genuine.
Jesper Zuschlag as Morten: As Hanna’s ex-boyfriend, Zuschlag equally balances charm and frustration, portraying the neglect and emotional disengagement that complacently weaves through the fabric of Hanna’s unraveling life.
Vera Carlbom as Carolin: Carlbom shines as Hanna’s free-spirited friend, bringing laughter and warmth to the film. Her relationship with Winter is crucial to the film’s narrative, showcasing the value of friendship and reinforcing the message of the story.
Hannes Fohlin and Her Gustav: As Fohlin captures the heart of a stereotypical love interest, he simultaneously shatters genre tropes by portraying masculinity with gentleness and deep emotional honesty.
Director & Writer
Erika Wasserman as a Director: No other director would–or should, for that matter–have as much fun and confidence as Erika Wasserman has in the dirty themes of the film but is unapologetic about them. Her camera is as close to the characters as the language of the film, which is raw and candid, encourages glitches and looks rough around the edges.
The script by Christin Magdu is surgical and ruthless, balancing humor and characters’ emotional honesty. Magdu writes contemporaneous womanhood etched in the gap between what is expected vs what is wished for with such kind and compassionate lens.
Cinematography & Music
The emotion-filled honesty of the film is captured through naturalistic warm and welcoming tones. Handheld shots and close-ups of Hanna plummet the audience into her mind and soul; and the soundtrack, which contains playful and empowering pieces of music, sits perfectly with the rest of the film’s elements.
IMDb Ratings
With its release, The Year I Started Masturbating received an IMDb rating of approximately 6.5/10. This film has been appreciated by an audience for its refreshing treatment of female sexuality and its humor. Its critics have commended it for balancing comedy with emotional depth as it breaks numerous taboos and delivers a heartfelt narrative about self-love and autonomy.
While some audience members expected a typical romantic comedy, most appreciated its departure from genre expectations and its focus on personal growth instead of a romantic resolution. The film has been recognized as an empowering depiction of female pleasure and emotional resilience.
Conclusion
The Year I Started Masturbating is a bold, funny, and heartfelt movie that redefines romantic comedies when the genre is rooted in self-discovery. It is a celebration of female autonomy and pleasure, free from the societal shame attached towards their acceptance and highlighting that fulfillment comes from within.
The film is entertaining yet important. Its witty writing, authentic performances, and bold tackling of themes too long hidden from the light make it stand out. In a liberating dive into self-empowerment layered with humor and heart, The Year I Started Masturbating serves as an important conversation starter that is worthy of the attention.
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