European film and television have long used the figure of the call girl as a narrative shortcut - a symbol of danger, freedom, or moral decay. But these portrayals rarely reflect the real lives of women who sell sex. Instead, they serve as mirrors for societal fears, fantasies, and double standards. From the smoky backrooms of 1970s Paris to the gritty alleys of modern Berlin, the call girl has been cast as villain, victim, or femme fatale - rarely as a person.
The Myth of the Fallen Woman
Early European cinema, especially in post-war Italy and France, often framed call girls as tragic figures whose downfall was inevitable. Think of Anna Magnani’s character in Roma, Città Aperta (1945) or the doomed courtesans in Visconti’s La Caduta degli Dei (1969). These women weren’t portrayed as making choices - they were punished for existing outside marriage. Their deaths, whether by violence, disease, or suicide, were treated as poetic justice. The message was clear: stepping outside traditional female roles led to ruin.
This trope didn’t vanish with black-and-white film. In the 1990s, French director Bertrand Blier’s Les Valseuses and later La Cérémonie (1995) kept the theme alive. The call girl in these films was either a manipulator or a pawn - never an agent. Even when she spoke, her words were filtered through male gaze. Her sexuality was never hers to control; it was a plot device.
From Villain to Antihero: The Shift in the 2000s
The 2000s brought a quiet revolution. Shows like Call My Agent! (France, 2015) and Deutschland 83 (Germany, 2015) started showing sex workers as complex characters with jobs, debts, and dreams. In Call My Agent!, a minor character named Sophie is revealed to have worked as a call girl to pay for her mother’s care. The show doesn’t moralize. It doesn’t linger on her past. It just moves on - because for her, it was a job.
Even more telling was the British series Normal People (2020), where a character briefly mentions having paid for sex. The reaction? Silence. No shock. No judgment. Just a shrug. This subtle normalization was a milestone. For the first time, European TV treated sex work as something people do - not because they’re broken, but because they’re human.
Eastern Europe: The Darker Side of the Mirror
In Eastern Europe, the portrayal is less about personal struggle and more about systemic exploitation. Films like Poland’s Corpus Christi (2019) and Romania’s 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (2007) don’t romanticize. They show how poverty, lack of education, and weak social safety nets push women into survival sex work. In these stories, the call girl isn’t a symbol - she’s a statistic. And the camera doesn’t look away.
One of the most powerful scenes in recent European cinema comes from the 2021 Swedish film The Worst Person in the World. The protagonist, Julie, briefly considers becoming a call girl after a breakup. She researches it online, talks to a friend who’s done it before, and then walks away. The film doesn’t tell us why she changes her mind. It doesn’t need to. The point is: she considered it. And that’s enough.
Why Do These Stories Keep Coming Back?
European filmmakers keep returning to the call girl because she’s a blank screen onto which society projects its anxieties. Is she a threat to family values? A victim of capitalism? A symbol of sexual liberation? The answer changes depending on who’s telling the story - and who’s watching.
But here’s the truth: real call girls in Europe don’t fit the script. According to a 2023 study by the European Women’s Lobby, 68% of women who sell sex in the EU do so voluntarily, not because they’re trafficked. Most are single mothers, students, or immigrants trying to pay rent. Few live in penthouses. Few wear stilettos. Most work from home, use apps, or meet clients through trusted networks.
Yet on screen, they’re still shown as either glamorous and dangerous - think of the French Call Girls trope in Amélie’s alternate universe - or broken and bleeding in a back alley. The disconnect isn’t accidental. It’s intentional. It keeps the myth alive so audiences don’t have to face the real questions: Why do so many women need to sell sex to survive? And why does society still shame them for it?
The Rise of Real Voices
Slowly, change is coming from inside the industry. In 2022, a group of former sex workers in Berlin co-wrote and starred in a short film called My Rent Is Due. It’s not a drama. It’s a documentary-style comedy about juggling clients, taxes, and bad dates. No tears. No redemption arc. Just a woman trying to get through the week.
The film went viral in Germany and sparked a national debate. A year later, the German Film Board funded three new projects led by former sex workers. For the first time, the stories weren’t filtered through a director’s lens - they came straight from the source.
Similar movements are growing in Spain, Sweden, and the Netherlands. In Amsterdam, a group of women launched a podcast called Not a Prostitute, Just a Worker. It’s not about activism. It’s about normalcy. One episode features a woman who used to be a call girl and now runs a small café. She says: “I don’t regret the work. I regret the stigma.”
What’s Missing From the Screen?
European film and TV still avoid showing the logistics of sex work. No one talks about how to screen clients. No one shows the apps used to book appointments. No one explains how taxes are filed or how health checks work. These aren’t details - they’re the backbone of the job.
When Sex Education (UK, 2019-2023) briefly touched on a character’s experience with sex work, it got praised for being “brave.” But it didn’t show her paying rent, arguing with a landlord, or worrying about her child’s school fees. That’s the real story.
What’s missing is dignity. What’s missing is context. What’s missing is the fact that most call girls in Europe aren’t trying to escape their lives - they’re trying to live them.
Where Do We Go From Here?
The next generation of European filmmakers is starting to ask better questions. Instead of “Why did she become a call girl?” they’re asking: “What would happen if she had a living wage? What if she had healthcare? What if society didn’t treat her like a criminal?”
Some directors are already answering. In 2024, a Dutch film called Room 407 followed a call girl over 72 hours - not as a victim, not as a seductress, but as a person with a schedule, a pet, and a favorite coffee shop. It didn’t win awards. But it changed how people talked about sex work in the Netherlands.
The truth is, the call girl in European cinema isn’t going away. But she’s changing. And so are the stories around her. The old tropes are fading. The real ones are starting to speak.
Are call girls in European films based on real people?
Most characters are fictional, but they’re often built from real patterns. Studies show that women in sex work across Europe share common experiences - financial pressure, lack of social support, and stigma. Films like 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days or The Worst Person in the World draw from interviews and data, not fantasy.
Why do European shows use call girls as plot devices?
They’re used because they’re easy symbols. A call girl can represent rebellion, danger, or moral collapse without needing backstory. It’s lazy writing - but it’s also a reflection of how society views sex work: as something outside normal life, not part of it.
Is sex work legal in Europe?
Laws vary. In Germany and the Netherlands, selling sex is legal and regulated. In Sweden and Norway, buying sex is illegal (the Nordic model), but selling isn’t. In France, it’s a gray area - selling isn’t illegal, but pimping and brothels are banned. The law doesn’t match reality - most sex workers operate independently, not in organized systems.
Do European films ever show male call girls?
Rarely. Male sex workers are almost invisible in European film and TV. When they appear, they’re usually portrayed as gay hustlers or victims of trafficking. There’s little exploration of straight men selling sex - even though data shows they exist. The focus stays on women, reinforcing old gendered myths.
How do real call girls feel about their portrayals in media?
Most say the portrayals are either sensationalized or dehumanizing. A 2024 survey of 300 sex workers in 12 EU countries found that 82% felt films and shows misrepresented their daily lives. They want stories that show routine - not trauma. Work - not punishment. Agency - not victimhood.
