The 2017 biographical film Tom of Finland, directed by Dome Karukoski, offers a sweeping look at the life of Touko Laaksonen, the artist who revolutionized gay culture with his hyper-masculine, leather-clad illustrations. Spanning over 40 years, the film traces Laaksonen’s journey from a decorated soldier in World War II to a global underground icon who ultimately fanned the flames of the gay liberation movement. Plot and Historical Context
The movie begins with Laaksonen (played by Pekka Strang) returning to a repressive post-war Helsinki after serving as a second lieutenant in WWII. In a society where homosexuality was a criminal offense punishable by shame and imprisonment, Laaksonen found refuge in drawing stylized, muscular men—a stark contrast to the "effeminate" stereotypes often imposed on gay men at the time.
Key historical and narrative milestones in the film include:
Tom of Finland review – intriguing biopic of a gay liberation hero
The 2017 biographical drama Tom of Finland, directed by Dome Karukoski, serves as a sweeping tribute to Touko Laaksonen, the artist who redefined gay masculinity and became a global icon of LGBTQ+ liberation. Premiering at the Gothenburg Film Festival and later selected as the Finnish entry for the 90th Academy Awards, the film chronicles four decades of Laaksonen's life—from the trauma of the battlefield to his status as an international underground legend. A Life Forged in Shadows
The narrative begins with Touko Laaksonen (played by Pekka Strang) returning to Helsinki after serving with distinction in World War II. Peacetime, however, offers little reprieve; in post-war Finland, homosexuality was a criminal offense, forcing men like Touko into a precarious existence of coded language and clandestine meetings in public parks.
To escape this oppressive reality, Touko begins creating private, highly stylized drawings of muscular men in uniforms. These sketches—featuring hyper-masculine lumberjacks, sailors, and leather-clad bikers—represented a radical departure from the effeminate or tragic caricatures of gay men prevalent at the time. The Evolution of an Icon
The film highlights key milestones in Laaksonen’s journey to becoming "Tom of Finland": Wikipediahttps://en.wikipedia.org
The film begins with Laaksonen’s experience as a soldier during the Continuation War (1941–1944).
The movie details the logistical and legal struggles behind the art.
In the pantheon of 20th-century artists, few names carry as much cultural weight—or as much joyful, defiant controversy—as Touko Laaksonen, known universally as Tom of Finland. By 2017, decades after his death in 1991, his iconic, hyper-muscular men in tight leather and ripped denim had already graduated from the underground pages of beefcake magazines to the glossy walls of high fashion and pop music videos. However, it was the specific events of 2017 that served as a tectonic shift, cementing his legacy not merely as an illustrator of homoerotic fantasy, but as a master artist who redefined masculinity, freedom, and resistance.
Here is a detailed look at why the year 2017 was the definitive moment for Tom of Finland.
By 2017, Tom of Finland’s imagery had become a global design language. It was the year his art fully detached from its underground origins and entered the luxury mainstream.
Perhaps the most surreal development of 2017 was the complete mainstream commercialization of the Tom of Finland aesthetic. You couldn't walk through a "hipster" neighborhood in Brooklyn, Shoreditch, or Berlin without seeing the iconic profile of a man in a cowboy hat.
In 2017, Tom of Finland’s art appeared on: tom of finland -2017-
This paradox was dizzying. The man who was arrested on obscenity charges in the 1960s for "depicting lascivious acts" was now the logo for a $750 leather jacket. 2017 asked a hard question: Is this victory? Or is this the co-opting of a revolutionary by the very capitalist machine he lived outside of?
For many older gay men watching this happen in real-time in 2017, the feeling was one of vertigo. They remembered the days when buying a Tom of Finland calendar meant going to a grimy adult bookstore and paying in cash to avoid a paper trail. Now, a teenager in Idaho could buy a Tom of Finland phone case from Amazon in two clicks.
In 2017, the world looked different. The cultural conversation was fractured by the first full year of the Trump presidency, the resurgence of visible neo-fascism, and a global battle over LGBTQ+ rights that swung violently between hard-won victories (marriage equality in Australia) and brutal crackdowns (Chechnya’s anti-gay purges). It was in this charged atmosphere that the legacy of Touko Laaksonen—known universally as Tom of Finland—was forcibly rewritten.
For decades, Tom was the secret prince of the underground. His hyper-muscular, impossibly well-endowed men in tight leather and polished boots were the fantasy fuel of a closeted generation. But 2017 marked a distinct turning point: the year the underground icon was officially anointed into the mainstream canon, sparking a global debate about art, pornography, masculinity, and liberation.
This is the story of Tom of Finland in 2017.
However, not everyone in 2017 was celebrating. The rise of Tom of Finland in the mainstream also ignited the fiercest internal critique of his legacy.
The most prominent voice in 2017 belonged to the critical theorist and artist who argued that Tom’s utopia is also a monoculture. The argument went like this:
Supporters fired back passionately. They noted that in 2017, in places like Russia and Indonesia, gay men were being arrested, beaten, and outed. For a man in Jakarta to have a Tom of Finland drawing on his phone was an act of defiance. The "uniform" of hyper-masculinity, they argued, is a shield. It says, “You cannot hurt me. I am strong. I am powerful.”
Tom of Finland (Touko Laaksonen, 1920–1991) is widely recognized as one of the most influential artists of 20th-century gay visual culture. His hyper-masculine, erotic drawings of confident, often uniformed men reshaped gay self-image and visibility from the 1950s onward. The year 2017 marked a notable moment in the continuing reassessment and institutional recognition of Tom of Finland’s work and legacy: exhibitions, publications, and cultural conversations around representation, queer aesthetics, censorship, and commodification converged to situate Laaksonen’s art both historically and in contemporary queer life. This essay examines Tom of Finland’s artistic significance, traces the trajectory of his reception, and analyzes the particular relevance of 2017 as a year that crystallized renewed institutional interest and public debate around his oeuvre.
Artistic Vision and Visual Language Tom of Finland’s drawings are characterized by exaggerated, idealized male physiques, meticulous line work, and a fetishistic attention to clothing—leather, uniforms, denim, and boots—that both codes desire and posits a ritualized masculinity. Working primarily in ink and pencil, Laaksonen combined realistic anatomy with stylized exaggeration: square jaws, broad shoulders, narrow waists, and emphatic genitalia. His figures are often staged in vignettes of camaraderie, camaraderie-turned-eroticism, or solitary confidence. Crucially, Tom’s men are not shown as shameful or furtive; they embody pride, agency, and erotic joy. This aesthetic countered prevailing mid-century representations of gay men as effeminate, secretive, or pathological and created an affirmative visual vocabulary that many gay men embraced as emblematic of dignity and desire.
Historical Context and Cultural Impact Laaksonen began drawing in the 1940s and started signing his works “Tom of Finland” in the 1950s when his images found publication in underground gay magazines. At a time when homosexuality was widely criminalized and pathologized, his work circulated clandestinely among gay subcultures, influencing leather and fetish communities and, later, mainstream fashion and advertising. Tom’s visual language helped normalize certain expressions of masculinity within queer communities and provided models of desire that resisted assimilation to heteronormative ideals while also offering points of contact with broader cultural motifs (e.g., military, biker, and labor imagery).
From underground erotic art to museum collections, Tom’s journey reflects changing social attitudes. Institutions and scholars began re-evaluating erotic and queer art as worthy of academic and curatorial attention, and Tom’s drawings were re-contextualized not merely as pornography but as culturally and artistically significant artifacts that document queer history, desire, and identity formation.
The State of Tom of Finland Scholarship and Curation by 2017 By 2017 Tom of Finland had become an established name in both queer cultural history and art-historical discourse. The Tom of Finland Foundation—established in 1984 in Los Angeles to preserve Laaksonen’s legacy and archive—had been instrumental in promoting exhibitions, publications, and scholarship. Museums and galleries increasingly included his work in exhibitions examining masculinity, erotic art, and queer visual cultures. Academic interest broadened into interdisciplinary studies: queer theory, visual culture, fashion studies, and cultural history.
2017 is notable for several converging developments that amplified public and critical engagement with Laaksonen’s work: The 2017 biographical film Tom of Finland ,
Key Themes in Contemporary Reading of Tom’s Work Several themes dominated critical engagement with Tom of Finland by 2017:
2017 as a Focal Year: Examples and Significance Although the Tom of Finland archive and exhibitions spanned many years, 2017 functioned as a focal year in which the broader cultural and institutional attention crystallized into tangible events and discussions: exhibitions that traveled internationally, scholarly essays and anthologies reflecting on his impact, and heightened media visibility that prompted both celebration and critique. These moments underscored how Tom’s work operates simultaneously as historical testimony, aesthetic object, and catalyst for debate about representation in queer visual culture.
One practical effect of this attention was expanded public engagement: museums found new audiences interested in queer histories and erotic art, while scholars and curators refined frameworks for exhibiting explicit materials responsibly—balancing accessibility, contextualization, and sensitivity to diverse audiences.
Legacy and Ongoing Relevance Tom of Finland’s legacy is layered. He transformed the visual language of male eroticism and influenced generations of artists, designers, and activists. His drawings remain culturally potent as icons of desire and masculinity, while scholarly critiques ensure his work is read in historically situated and intersectional ways. The conversations intensified in and around 2017 illustrate an ongoing cultural negotiation: how to honor the radical visibility Tom provided while critiquing the limits of its representational scope.
Conclusion Tom of Finland’s art occupies a complex place between eroticism, cultural affirmation, and contested representation. By 2017 his work had moved firmly into public cultural institutions and critical discourse, prompting celebratory retrospectives and rigorous critiques alike. This dual response—admiration for his role in shaping queer visual culture and scrutiny of the exclusions embedded in his idealized masculinity—speaks to the enduring power of his images and the necessity of contextual, critical engagement as society reconsiders histories of desire, identity, and representation.
A significant academic paper exploring the 2017 biopic Tom of Finland
is "Reappropriations and Criticism of Finnishness in Tom of Finland, the Film and the Musical" by Tuomas Laine-Frigren, published in Scandinavian Studies (2023). Core Themes of the Paper
This paper analyzes how the film (and the stage musical) negotiates the concept of "Finnishness" by integrating LGBT minorities into a national identity that previously excluded them. Key areas of focus include:
Reclaiming National History: The paper examines how the film portrays Touko Laaksonen (the artist behind "Tom of Finland") as a calm, wise leader during the Finnish Continuation War (1941–1944). It argues that the movie "queers" the traditional image of the Finnish soldier by juxtaposing military duty with homoerotic desire.
Societal Repression vs. Erotic Potential: It explores the "closet culture" of mid-20th century Finland, where homosexuality was criminalized. The author discusses how the film uses the specific tensions of that era—fear of persecution balanced against the secret thrill of the underground—to explain the origins of Tom's transgressive art.
The Global vs. Local Identity: The study contrasts the "gloom of repressive Finland" with the "kaleidoscopic colors" of the liberal Los Angeles scene, where Laaksonen eventually found fame. It looks at how the film depicts the transformation of a "wimp" (as Laaksonen once called himself) into a global symbol of gay liberation. Critical Reception in Other Analyses
While the academic paper by Laine-Frigren is a deep dive into national identity, other critical reviews provide useful context:
Biopic Formula: Some critics from The New York Times and The Guardian noted that while Laaksonen's art was revolutionary, the film itself followed a somewhat conservative, "straight-laced" biopic formula.
Healing Trauma: Reviews from platforms like Practical Pagan highlight the film's portrayal of art as a tool for healing wartime PTSD and finding a language for self-expression in a hostile world. Post-War Trauma: Rather than focusing solely on the
Are you specifically interested in the historical accuracy of the film’s depiction of WWII, or Movie Review: TOM OF FINLAND (2017)
TOM OF FINLAND (director: Dome Karukoski)
I. The Sketchbook as a Weapon
It is difficult to overstate the cultural distance between the world we live in now—where "thirst traps" are a standard currency of social media and queer visibility is (in some parts of the world) at an all-time high—and the Finland of the 1950s. It was a grim, gray place, scarred by war and defined by a suffocating, conformist silence. This is where Tom of Finland (2017), the biopic directed by Dome Karukoski, begins: in silence.
The film introduces us to Touko Laaksonen (Pekka Strang), a man who moves through the post-WWII landscape like a ghost. He is an advertising executive, a lieutenant, a respectable citizen. But he is carrying a secret that is not just illicit, but dangerous. In this era, homosexuality was not merely a taboo; it was a crime, a sickness, a deviance. The opening act of the film is draped in shadows, both literal and metaphororical. We see Touko cruising in parks where the threat of violence—or police entrapment—hangs heavy in the cold air.
But the film’s central thesis arrives quickly: Touko has an escape. He draws.
II. The Birth of an Icon
The transition from Touko Laaksonen to "Tom of Finland" is the film’s core narrative engine, and Pekka Strang plays it with a delicate mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The film posits that Tom was not a separate personality, but a necessary armor. When Touko draws, the camera lingers on the ink hitting the paper. The lines are confident, bold, and black. He draws what he cannot have in the real world.
In reality, Touko is a man who fears for his safety, glancing over his shoulder in dark alleys. On paper, his men are fearless. They are hyper-masculine, muscular, mustachioed giants clad in leather and denim. They are unapologetic. The film argues that Tom of Finland’s art was not just pornography; it was a corrective measure against a world that wanted to shame queer men into invisibility. By drawing men who were the apex of masculinity—soldiers, bikemen, lumberjacks—Touko reclaimed the very symbols of power that had been used to oppress him.
There is a pivotal moment in the film where Touko shows his work to a potential lover. The man recoils, calling the drawings "ugly" and "monstrous." This scene cuts to the heart of the internalized homophobia of the time. Touko, however, persists. He sends his drawings to American physique magazines under the pseudonym "Tom." When the editor writes back, "Love the drawings, but lose the shirt," the emancipation begins.
III. The American Dream and the "Tom" Effect
As the timeline shifts to the 1960s and 70s, the film’s palette warms up, mirroring the sexual revolution. The Finland of the film remains somewhat stoic and cold, but Touko’s world expands through his mail correspondence with Los Angeles.
The film depicts the iconic friendship between Touko and Doug (played by a warm, grounded Werner Daehn), a man he meets at a beach. Their relationship serves as the emotional anchor. Through Doug and the burgeoning leather scene in the US, Touko finds an audience. The film wisely chooses to show the impact of his work through montage: soldiers in Vietnam pinning his drawings on their lockers, leather bars in San Francisco using his imagery as a uniform code.
Karukoski