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A nearly flawless dramedy about sex and disability that really about neither. Elizabeth Kerr reports.

A pair of searing, heart wrenching, based-on-reality films open this week and it was a no-brainer as to which film deserves the attention. For those with squishy hearts, The Impossible is probably a must-see. The film that unfolds after the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami that killed a quarter million Indonesians, Indians, Sri Lankans and Thais revolves around an affluent European family with the kind of insurance that gets them a private jet to Singapore. Without a doubt the central family's ordeal was harrowing (as the frequent screaming and histrionics) and no one would debase their ordeal or any like it, but filtering the tragedy through a movie-friendly, attractive, wealthy, white couple is just tired. Tired and lazy, and it says this is the only way the world's minority citizens (most of us are black, brown or yellow) would "get" the magnitude of the event. Moving on.

Because really, is there anything funnier than a 36-year-old quadriplegic who sleeps in an iron lung looking to lose his virginity with the help of a professional sex surrogate and the blessings of a Catholic priest? In writer-director Ben Lewin's hands, himself a polio survivor, there isn't. Hard as it may be to believe, The Sessions is a sensitive, humanistic and frequently laugh out loud funny chronicle of disabled freelance writer Mark O'Brien's (a truly excellent John Hawkes) quest to experience the joy of sex regardless of his disability. To do so, he contacts Cheryl Cohen Greene (Helen Hunt), a down to earth sex therapist with a husband and a mortgage and they begin a series of six sessions designed to ultimately help Mark experience full intercourse.

The real O'Brien gained attention for a 1990 newspaper series he wrote about the experience, and it's anyone's guess as to how accurate Lewin's version of the real man is. But that doesn't matter. In The Sessions he is a smart, brutally honest, independent (except for his attendant, Vera, played with growing respect by Moon Bloodgood) thirty something with a career, a wicked sense of humor and very little in the way of luck with women. In other words, as opposed to most films with disabled characters, Mark is a complete person who is informed, but not defined, by his disability. It's easy to see why Cheryl finds herself becoming emotionally attached to him, against her better judgment.

That makes The Sessions sound like a heady, dense dramatic stew, but it's a swift and insightful examination of the body, our relationship to it, emotional vulnerability and the impact of religion on sexuality when there's a "sell by" date. A devout if snarky Catholic, Mark seeks guidance and a kind of blessing from the church, and so begins regular if informal counseling with Father Brendan (William H Macy). Brendan decides God would give Mark "a pass on this one," and becomes his sounding board. Yes, there's sex and nudity in the film, but Lewin never dips into sensational or tasteless territory. A lot of that is thanks to Hawkes in an astute, complete performance and Hunt in a brave and empathetic one. She treats the body like a tool, no big deal, and in doing so makes Mark's much more than the sum of its parts. Her nonchalant attitude about her own nakedness (and at her age! In Hollywood! Shocking!) is refreshing and real and it keeps the focus where it belongs. By the time Mark meets the woman who will become his wife (Robin Weigert in five luminous minutes) The Sessions has achieved something films about disability rarely do: not be about disability.

The Sessions opened in Hong Kong on Thursday.

(HK Edition 01/12/2013 page4)