Sugar Babies
(USA, 81 min.)
Dir. Rachel Fleit
Programme: U.S. Documentary (World premiere)
They call sex work “the oldest profession,” but it assumes a new form in the age of social media. Louisiana teen Autumn Johnson embodies the next generation of pretty women using their bodies to get by. Director Rachel Fleit observes with a refreshingly non-judgmental eye as Autumn scores oodles of cash by flirting with men online. But the sugar leaves a bitter aftertaste.
Autumn calls herself a “sugar baby” and interacts with “sugar daddies,” presumably older male customers who tip a lady for services. What distinguishes Autumn from other sex workers is that she insists that her service provides only talk and fantasy. She offers online play, but nothing IRL. It’s a distressing state of affairs for America’s youth that Autumn pays her way through college by selling sugar. However, as Fleit’s camera trains its lens upon the impoverished landscape of Ruston, Louisiana with few avenues for financial security, Sugar Babies illustrates why some professions endure, albeit in different forms.
Fleit’s approach could arguably do Autumn more justice in the scant 81 minutes the story receives. There’s a lot here to process, especially since the critical lens that Sugar Babies trains on its characters seems limited compared to the considerations of circumstance. Autumn excitedly lets Fleit observe as she swipes through daddies, collecting tips and cashouts for transactions like flirting and selling photos. At one point late in the film, she offers a breakdown of prices and services: Phone sex costs $25, while photos run up to $40 whether they’re digital or Polaroids. She sells used panties and explains that lollipops can fetch $10—or more, depending where she, er, stored it before sale.
Sugar Babies demonstrates matter-of-factly that Autumn and company feel they lack options. The escalation therefore proves a necessity. The film explains how Louisiana’s stagnant minimum wage sits at $7.25, the same base since 2008. Even though the governor tries to raise it to keep up with inflation, legislators vote it down. Autumn’s friends grumble that the “good jobs” in town leave a choice between Wal-Mart and the chicken factory. Parents juggle multiple jobs to support their sprawling families. The camerawork by Jacob Yakob and Joseph Yakob captures with a sober lens the abject poverty—broken windows, modest homes—that defines their reality.
These factors make a turn of events especially difficult when Autumn goes off to college with a scholarship, but loses steam quickly. Paying for tuition prompts her to sell her sugar. She nets $200 hourly, scoring more by noon than her peers earn in a week.
Autumn moves back home and pays her way through Louisiana Tech while living the fast life. Her on/off boyfriend accepts the job since it pays their bills, but they always seem broke, too. The gap between living fast and spending faster underscores the absence of Autumn’s critical lens. She doesn’t seem cognizant that she invests in a job with no future or transferrable skills. The ephemeral thrill of social media seems pervasive.
Autumn has a side hustle, too, where she teaches other girls to be sugar babies. Fleit observes this young woman coaching other girls how to make enticing profiles and safely score cash. Autumn’s sister Hailey gets in on the sweets too. But she openly admits to scamming men and likens the job to female empowerment. There’s a lot of positive spin on the girls’ part for a job that basically reads like catfishing—and risks putting the girls in serious harm if one of the daddies feels cheated over losing some cash. When Autumn breaks her own rule and agrees to meet a daddy in person, everyone goes into safety mode to support and protect her. But there’s no going back.
Montages of selfies and TikTok-y videos evoke Autumn’s sense of joy and empowerment, but her economic success remains elusive, even when she hitches a ride with her friend Brittany and her three kids to move elsewhere. The solution? A sugar daddy will pay her way. She’s back home by the next season, which lets audiences decide for themselves how much she really just talks a good game.
Directors aren’t therapists or career counsellors, so Fleit straddles an incredibly difficult challenge while observing participants engaging in what they consider to be innocuous transactions. And to her credit, there are prompts from behind the camera as Fleit prods the girls to be introspective–they just seem wired on a sugar high. Sugar Babies leaves it to audiences to assess Autumn’s work—and the USA’s broken economy that puts children in the position to sexualize themselves in order to provide for their families and fund their educations. Decide for yourselves which deserves harsher judgment.