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In Sex Traffic, a yearning for a better life turns into a nightmare struggle
for survival. Writer Abi Morgan pulls no punches in her depiction of sex
trafficking as an extreme form of gender inequality and modern slavery, where
young women are seen as an exploitable, expendable commodity and where sex is
seen as another form of big business, simply a matter of supply and demand.
Yet Morgan also shows the women's resilience in the face of emotional and
social chaos (no surprise that she would next turn her attention to the trauma
of the 2004 Tsunami). As in his previous television work, including his
adaptation of Anthony Trollope's The Way We Live Now (BBC, 2001), which drew
parallels between its ruthless Victorian entrepreneur hero and modern media
tycoons, and the fine conspiracy thriller, State of Play (BBC, 2003), director
David Yates gives a thrilling and complicated narrative a strong social and
political dimension. The brutality of brothel life is tellingly juxtaposed with
the ethics of Boston business, which is lavish with its charity while turning a
knowingly blind eye to corruption.
While showing humanity at its most horrific and hypocritical, Sex Traffic
balances that with poignant demonstrations of sisterly and parental love, the
ties of home and family, the integrity of those who hate and oppose injustice.
It courageously spotlights a tragedy of our time, emphasised by Cherie Blair in
2007, in a speech pointing out that, on the 200th anniversary of the abolition
of slavery, human trafficking is the third largest transatlantic crime.
Some images resonate in the mind, like the husband alone at the end in his
vast house, a reflection of both his hollow corporate victory and his loss of
face and family; or Elena fighting for her life in the water, gripped by
seemingly overwhelming forces but refusing to go under. Impeccably photographed,
edited and scored, the film is adorned by excellent performances from
contemporary stars such as John Simm and seasoned veterans like Len Cariou,
Robert Joy and Maury Chaykin. The women are particularly haunting. Wendy Crewson is supremely sensitive as the executive's wife, who begins the film petulantly
looking for an expensive earring under the bed and ends it staring into a
terrifying emotional abyss; but the heart and soul of the drama is Anamaria
Marinca's performance as Elena, an amazing debut that richly deserved one of the
film's eight BAFTA awards.
Neil Sinyard
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1. 'My name is Anja' (4:27)
