In HBO’s ‘Industry,’ Sex Is More Important Than Finance

Marisa Abela & Kit Harington in 'Industry' Season 3
Opinion
Nick Strasburg / HBO

HBO has always been known for its bold television shows. From the likes of The Sopranos to new endeavors like The Leftovers, the network has been a place for daring TV to live. In the 2010s, it seemed like the network was pushing the boundaries even more, specifically with how it showcased sex onscreen.

At the dawn of the decade, Game of Thrones burst onto the scene with blood, guts, and boobs. Then came the likes of Succession and Euphoria, in which the sex scenes haven’t been particularly fun to watch. Existing between the cusp of those two is Industry, HBO’s new horny darling.

Industry, which focuses on a group of young graduates competing for jobs at the prestigious London investment bank Pierpoint and Co, is HBO’s latest effort to push the limits of what can be shown on television. The main trio in the series — consisting of Harper (Myha’la), Rob (Harry Lawtey), and Yasmin (Marisa Abela) — are thrown into the brutal world of finance without any preamble. In the first episode, one of their colleagues dies from a sleep deprivation-induced heart attack after mixing energy drinks with stimulant pills. It’s here, after this first episode, that these three young characters are forever changed, their relationship with their work and each other forever warped from this first instance of trauma.

Bonding under the stress of work doesn’t end here, and Harper, Rob, and Yasmin only have each other to hold onto. This becomes further entangled when these characters — as any horny 20-something-year-old would — begin to blur the lines between friendship and sex. But what makes the series stand out amongst its peers is the fact that the sex being shown is not particularly alluring. While the faces onscreen are undeniably attractive, the sex these characters are having is a little bit horrifying, yet it’s impossible to look away. Like a car crash, sex in Industry is a collision of body parts. The moans and pants that emanate from the mouths of these characters are like horrified gasps.

Although Industry was derided by The New Statesman as “porn posing as prestige TV,” the way the sex scenes are crafted in the series actually makes this point moot. The bodies, particularly those of the show’s female characters, are not put on display for viewers to gaze upon. Unlike previous HBO endeavors, Industry’s sex scenes aren’t meant to arouse its viewers; rather, they are there to elucidate. The show’s characters are unapologetically horny, yes, but the show itself is not sexy. The Gen Z characters of the show aren’t strictly hot for each other; they’re horny for cash, cars, drugs, and, most of all, validation at work.

The way sex is showcased has increased tenfold in Season 3. Every sex act this season also works as a challenge: For the characters to push themselves as well as the people they’re engaging in these acts with. In Industry, sex also represents a semblance of loyalty, with characters like Yasmin and Henry (Kit Harington) pledging themselves to each other via the bodily fluids they exchange. In a scene involving Yasmin urinating on Henry, the camera pans to their legs touching each other. It’s not sexy at all. From the sounds of liquid flowing down onto the shower floor to Yasmin’s look of confusion and disgust, this scene proves that in perhaps what is her most normal relationship in the show to date, Yasmin is incapable of having agency in her relationships with men.

What this also shows is that there’s no line Industry won’t cross. As the finale of the third season looms ahead, it feels as if the sex scenes in the show have grown increasingly audacious and more competitive. From Eric’s (Ken Leung) act of self-pleasure in a restaurant bathroom to Rishi (Sagar Radia) going down on his wife after a kitchenware-shattering argument, the sex has grown more volatile and, subsequently, more pathetic. None of these characters are able to separate their desires from the explosive egos they’ve amassed at work. It seeps into their relationships, no matter how fleeting, and has begun to crack the surface of even their strongest bonds.

None of the characters are able to get away from the high stress of Pierpoint, and at times it doesn’t seem like they even want to. Like the drugs and alcohol they consume after hours, they’re addicted to the thrills of trading, which penetrates their lives outside of work. Their sex lives operate as an initial escape, but they become more entangled, especially when they’re sleeping with people directly connected to their jobs. It’s as if they like the push-and-pull of it all, forcing themselves into a deeper connection with work — even outside of the concrete and glass boundaries of Pierpoint’s building.

While working in finance gives these characters an initial rush, the power plays they engage with in their relationships truly gets them going. In the bedrooms of Yasmin, Harper, and Rob, the risks outweigh the thrill they get from work. When engaging in sex, these characters are able to truly explore the most hidden of their desires, ones so fraught that they cannot be tested outside of dark rooms. It often forces them into more tense situations than they can handle, but it makes for television that feels daring in a way most shows do not. The precariousness of these acts heightens the stakes in Industry, exploring the way the human body can be used as ammunition and currency.

This isn’t the first series to explore how sex can be weaponized for something even more intoxicating than money — power. But the way Industry is handling sex is different than its prestige TV counterparts and gets to the root cause as to how this can impact the characters onscreen. The show is not afraid of its intimate scenes being unconventional and even off-putting. Each sex scene seems to be crafted to up the shock — and gross — factor, elevating the show into a realm that no other show can touch (no matter how desperately it wants to.)

Industry, Season 3 Finale, Sunday, September 29, 10/9c, HBO