Sweetheart Deal
Directed by Elisa Levine and Gabriel Miller
Runtime: 99 minutes
Premieres in Los Angeles October 18

by Kate Beach, Staff Writer

When you’re desperate, you take any hand that reaches out. For many years on Seattle’s Aurora Avenue North, that hand belonged to Laughn Elliott Doescher. In their new documentary Sweetheart Deal, directors Elisa Levine and Gabriel Miller explore the world of addiction and survival sex work through the experiences of four women who take comfort in Doescher’s arms.

“Even if you’re in the wrong life, what’s familiar is comfortable,” says Kristine. Tough and flinty by necessity, she struggles with addiction and the difficulties of improving her situation. She can’t get work without an address, a clean drug test, a real resume, but how does she get any of those things without the others? “It’s a cycle,” she says. “I haven’t met a working girl who got out and didn’t come back to it.” This is the reality for the four women at the center of Sweetheart Deal: Kristine, Tammy, Krista, and Sara. They cycle through attempts at sobriety, legal employment, reuniting with family, and finally tumbling back to the life. That tumble is when Doescher steps in.

In his RV on Aurora Avenue North, Doescher swings open the door and entices sex workers in with promises of a safe place to sleep, to get clean, to be protected from the street. He positions himself as the “mayor of Aurora” and the only safe option for women in the predatory and dangerous world of sex work. He’s been there for over ten years and has developed relationships with many of the women working on Aurora, even something of a close friendship with Kristine. They know he’s a creep. They hear the way he talks, and they see the way he leers at them. But as long as he stops short of assaulting them, he’s viewed as a generally harmless and helpful presence.

For Kristine, Tammy, Krista, and Sara, dealing with Doescher is the least of the indignities they face. They each have harrowing stories of being kicked out by parents, abandoned by partners, and dealing with the near constant threat of sexual assault and abuse. They each struggle to achieve and maintain sobriety and leave sex work, to varying degrees of success, and their stories of abuse and mistreatment are similar. Kristine became homeless after a stint in juvenile detention years ago and is now stuck in the cycle she identified. Tammy’s parents kicked her out when she was 12, leading her straight into the arms of a drug dealer. Krista goes by Amy on the street, wanting to maintain some separation between her work and her true self. And Sara is desperate to get sober and rebuild a relationship with her children, who have grown up almost entirely without her. Their goals and desires are taken seriously by Levine and Miller, and it’s easy to root for them and hope desperately for them to succeed. When evidence of Doescher’s true nature is revealed, affecting each woman, the spiral of horror and shame threatens to undo any progress they’ve made.

Levine and Miller’s camera work is spare and unflinching. They favor close ups of their subjects’ faces, featuring eyes and lines and furrowed brows. It’s also stylish, making the rainy Seattle landscapes and neon lights of Aurora look noir-ish and atmospheric. Shot over a period of ten years, the trust and intimacy they built with the women is incredible. They’re willing to be open and vulnerable about their lives and their circumstances, and, in return, their stories are told with compassion and without judgment. Interviews include other women on Aurora Avenue North, Doescher’s mother, and family members of our core quartet, building a complete picture of not only the pain and trauma of addiction and abuse but also the camaraderie and support people in desperate situations can provide each other.

Sweetheart Deal is not an easy watch or a pleasant watch or something to throw on in the background while you do something else. Both the film and its subjects demand your attention, insist that you look and see the reality of life for people struggling with addiction and at constant risk of abuse. It’s gripping, painful, and entirely unforgettable.