‘Sugar Babies’ review: Swiping for survival | Sundance 2025

Directed by Rachel Fleit, Sugar Babies peels back the glossy facade of the gig economy, delivering a bittersweet documentary.

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How do you make ends meet in a system stacked against you? Scratch that, how does an entire generation? At the heart of Sugar Babies is Autumn, a college student in rural Louisiana whose life teetered on the edge of economic collapse. After losing her waitressing job and college scholarship during the COVID-19 lockdowns, Autumn turned to the digital hustle. She dove into the sugar baby world, a realm where swiped profiles and cautious boundaries promise financial freedom. But at what cost? Fueled by TikTok’s glittering fantasies of quick cash and entrepreneurial independence, Autumn’s story becomes a lens through which director Rachel Fleit examines the false promises of our government, revealing a landscape of exploitation, uneasy compromises, and the harsh realities of survival.

Autumn and her friends approach their new “business” with the kind of bold optimism that only comes from being young and broke in a world that demands everything and offers next to nothing in return. Armed with nothing more than their phones, some DIY marketing skills, and a belief in their own invincibility, they wade into a virtual minefield of uneasy power dynamics in their virtual world and their local communities.

The genius of Fleit’s direction here is how she makes Autumn’s world feel every bit as layered and lethargic and lovable as she and her friends do. Rural Louisiana comes alive in the long and empty roads, the side street diners that double as social hubs for those stuck in a town that quit growing long before they were born. It’s a landscape of dreams deferred, where minimum wage jobs and dead-end prospects aren’t just obstacles. They’re newly-painted walls. Autumn’s decision to pivot to sugar babying isn’t a failure of her character. It’s a failure of a society that has become as morally detached as the technology fueling these “scams.”

Fleit does find some key moments of levity in the absurdity of it all, like the friends brainstorming their “business model” over snacks or nervously giggling through their first video chats with clients. These scenes feel plucked straight from a group chat, full of next-gen slang and darkly funny quips that only people on the edge of financial collapse could make. But just when you’re laughing along, Fleit pulls the rug out, reminding you how precarious their situation really is. It’s a gut-punch of a film that lures you in with charm before hitting you with the brutal reality.

And oh, what a brutal reality it is. Fleit takes real aim at the app-based success stories to reveal a system where young adults stay running in a perpetual high-stakes hustle. The film is a scathing indictment of an America where the dream of upward mobility is now an in-app purchase, and the terms and conditions always favor the house. Sugar Babies forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth: when society leaves its youth with no good options, they’ll start exploring the bad ones.

The various individuals featured in Sugar Babies each bring a unique and deeply personal story to the screen, making their experiences resonate with authenticity and humanity. Director Rachel Fleit treats their narratives with care, ensuring that their voices are heard without ever veering into exploitation. These are real people navigating complex choices, and Fleit’s lens focuses on their strength, vulnerability, and resilience. The documentary never feels like it’s pointing fingers or making judgments. Instead, it offers a compassionate window into these lives, allowing their stories to unfold naturally. Each person’s journey is presented with dignity, emphasizing the humanity behind every decision and the systemic pressures that shape them.

On the technical side, Sugar Babies is a surprisingly robust treat, juxtaposing the soft, sun-drenched hues of Ruston, Louisiana with the cold, sterile glow of phone screens and LED lights. The contrast drives home the disconnect between the world Autumn wants to escape and the one she’s navigating. The score, a mix of melancholy strings and minimalist beats, underlines the tension without overwhelming it, mirroring the film’s delicate balance of tone.

By the final reel, Sugar Babies leaves us with more pained questions than cathartic answers, and that’s certainly intentional. It’s not just a documentary about a young woman trying to make ends meet—it’s a searing look at a system that prioritizes profit over people, leaving entire generations swiping for survival. The film’s goal isn’t to solve this problem, really, it’s to make us care. And maybe demand something better for a change.

Sugar Babies had its world premiere at the Sundance 2025 Film Festival. Find more of our Sundance 2025 coverage here.