The Year I Started Masturbating (Swedish title: Året jag slutade prestera och började onanera) is a 2022 comedy-drama from Sweden, directed by Erika Wasserman. Inspired by a story from Sandra Dahlén, the film stars Katia Winter as Hanna, a woman whose carefully mapped life begins to fall apart as she nears forty. Blending humor with sharper social observation, it looks at self-acceptance, female pleasure, and the quest for emotional freedom in today’s world.
Plot Summary
Hanna is a hard-working professional focused on her fortieth birthday. She enjoys a stable job, a small yet adoring son, and is still trying to give him a sibling with her long-time partner. Everything turns upside down when he suddenly walks away, taking their house and crumpling the future she counted on. The split hits her like a stock-market crash: her career wobbles, her rent doubles, and friends pull back, so she must scramble for a new identity almost overnight.
In the midst of her personal storm, Hanna crosses paths with Liv, a spirited teenager who sells snacks and drinks at the corner shop. Liv speaks her mind, owns her sexuality, and seems entirely at ease in her body. By simply being herself, she nudges Hanna to look inward, inviting her to remember who she is beyond work, marriage, and motherhood. For Hanna, experimenting with masturbation becomes a small but powerful act-a private pledge to acknowledge desire and take back the authority over her own story.
Her quest is never tidy; it unfolds in shaky therapy sessions, cringe-worthy blind dates, and late-night crises of confidence. Step by step, she unravels the tight rules of perfectionism and the louder rules the world has imposed on women. She also reconnects with high-school pals, re-evaluates what it means to be a mother and partner, and takes a hard look at the aging, insecure parts of herself that have felt too shameful to admit. The camera tracks her shift from near-collapse to a sturdy kind of self-acceptance and freedom.
Main Characters and Performances
Hanna (Katia Winter): Katia Winter brings Hanna to life as a woman any viewer will recognize-a mix of strength, doubt, ambition, and hope. She mirrors the juggling act so many mothers, careerists, and lovers perform every day, trying to keep every ball in the air without breaking. Winter balances comedy and raw emotion beautifully; whether fumbling in therapy or laughing at her own mistakes, her face tells the truth of a woman slowly learning to trust herself again.
Liv (Vera Carlbom): Liv works behind the counter of a small shop, yet her fearless, no-censors attitude turns her into Hanna’s unexpected ally and coach. By openly discussing sex, romance, and her many misadventures, Liv nudges Hanna out of her comfort zone and into a messier, freer version of herself.
Morten (Jesper Zuschlag): Entering and exiting Hanna’s life like a summer fling, Morten sparks her tentative return to dating after a painful breakup. Yet their flirtation quickly reveals Hanna’s deeper tug-of-war: the craving for applause from others versus the quieter search for peace within.
Carolin (Nour El-Refai) and Staffan (Henrik Dorsin): This wisecracking pair of co-workers keep Hanna grounded with incessant banter and the occasional pep talk. Each offers a separate take on dating, growing up, and learning to laugh at the plans that keep falling apart.
Themes and Analysis
Sexual Liberation and Female Pleasure
The film tackles female desire with a mix of easy laughs and frank talk. Rather than painting masturbation as something to hide, it shows the act as simple upkeep for the spirit. Watching Hanna claim her cravings helps loosen the guilt still clinging to women past thirty-five. Even the cheeky title hints that taking back your body can jump-start a much bigger overhaul.
Aging and Self-Worth
Hanna’s struggle goes beyond the passage of years; it cuts to the core of who she thinks she is. With her fortieth birthday around the corner, she feels the quiet sting of being overlooked in a culture that celebrates youth, relentless achievement, and polished social statuses. The narrative follows her as she searches for a sense of satisfaction that does not bend to prescribed deadlines or outside approval.
Friendship Across Generations
Hanna’s bond with Liv shines a light on what real cross-age support can look like. The two women grew up in different worlds, saw different pathways as valuable, yet their friendship proves that strength and encouragement are not confined to any single decade. Liv’s raw honesty breaks through Hanna’s practiced calm, and in that contrast their connection sparks the change both of them desperately need.
Rejection of Perfectionism
At the start, Hanna measures her worth by a relentless scorecard-workplace targets, romantic ideals, and even the neatness of her home. A personal crisis, however, shatters that rigid equation and pushes her to question what success might mean if grades are set by her own heart. Healing turns out to be less about fixing every flaw and more about owning uncertainty, showing up messy, and finding power in the moments that simply refuse to look effortless.
Style and Direction
Director Erika Wasserman applies a light but purposeful hand to her material. The overall mood is breezy and comedic, yet the emotional beats remain grounded and sincere. Warm color palettes, urban backdrops, and tight framing pull the audience into an almost one-on-one relationship with each character. Cinematography steers clear of glamor, opting instead for raw, unfiltered images that echo the storys interest in honesty and self-discovery.
Humor is woven throughout the narrative. Jokes arise from awkward meet-ups, sexual blunders, and straightforward musings, allowing the protagonist to stay real rather than slip into caricature. This gentle comedy cushions Hanna’s vulnerabilities, making her path feel relatable and encouraging rather than self-indulgent.
Critical Reception
Critics met the film with a mix of opinions, though the overall verdict leans positive. Many reviewers highlighted its frank look at female sexuality and singled out Katia Winters down-to-earth performance. The story gained credit for addressing empowerment and self-love without sliding into preachiness or didactic messaging.
Several reviewers noted uneven pacing: the opening two acts build steadily, yet the climax and resolution feel compressed. A handful of critics also wished for deeper backstories for minor characters. Still, a broad consensus recognizes the films earnest portrait of midlife reinvention, which avoids tired convention and speaks to the nervous joy of starting over.
Cultural Significance
Situated alongside a wave of global cinema exploring female agency, The Year I Started Masturbating earns praise for its candor and everyday tone. Its candid handling of the body, mental health, and personal pleasure at any age keeps these conversations current and accessible.
In the Swedish context, the film represents a welcome shift toward inclusive storytelling that centers womens experiences without sliding into melodrama. By portraying solo intimacy as ordinary rather than provocative, it helps normalize talk about pleasure and mental wellness for women navigating change.
Conclusion
The Year I Started Masturbating blends warmth, humor, and hard truth to show what can follow personal collapse—and how renewal often begins with an honest encounter with oneself. Anchored by an engaging central performance and steady direction, it gently invites viewers to question prevailing taboos and to accept their mismatched pieces.
The film does more than depict sexual curiosity or solitary pleasure; it explores rediscovery, emotional independence, and the simple joy of prioritising oneself. Its empowering message speaks not only to women near midlife but to anyone facing the unpredictable landscape of personal reinvention.
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