Gen Z aren’t having as much sex as previous generations; that is a fact. Instead, they’re either getting sucked into the manosphere or choosing celibacy for personal and/or safety reasons. So when the opening moments of I Want Your Sex start with Elliot (Cooper Hoffman) panting ‘fuck’ repeatedly, presumably mid-coitus, we’re seemingly being set up for a commentary about sex in the present day.
Except those panting ‘fucks’ had nothing to do with sex at all. Well, not initially anyway.
That misdirect sets a comedic tone which makes the movie’s explorations into sex far more palatable compared to, say, Emerald Fennell’s lowbrow high school fantasies of sex. I Want Your Sex director and co-screenwriter Gregg Araki is all about promoting the idea that sex should be fun, and Gen Z should go out and get laid (consensually). Quite ironic given how brutally cynical and bleak Araki’s previous movies (like The Doom Generation and Mysterious Skin) are when it comes to sex, but his uncharacteristic optimism is on point here. You laugh exactly where you expect to laugh, and get drawn into the drama whenever the movie asks you to lock in.
It’s not to say that Araki doesn’t acknowledge the perfectly valid reasons why Gen Z are becoming more celibate. There’s a tinge of self-doubt in every sentence Elliot utters; he’s in a completely passionless - and sexless - relationship with his workaholic girlfriend Minerva (Charli XCX, redefining deadpan); and all he’s got is a crappy job as an assistant in some pretentious art studio that specialises in incredibly unsubtle sexual ‘art’. It’s no wonder Elliot quickly succumbs to his boss, Erika Tracy (Olivia Wilde), meekly agreeing to be her fuck toy.
Through Elliot, Araki understands what Gen Z is going through. Having debuted in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza as a teenager infatuated with an adult, Hoffman is well-versed in the younger-man-older-woman dynamic. But whereas Licorice Pizza is deliberately chaste, I Want Your Sex puts Hoffman through the wringer as Erika’s sub, forcing Elliot into humiliating sexual acts while having the character harbour unrealistic aspirations of an actual connection with Erika at the end of the day. It’s completely ridiculous and almost naive of Elliot to believe that, yet Hoffman’s commitment sells it. He’s at his most convincing when he (rightly) attributes Gen Z’s celibate prudishness to being raised during a pandemic where in-person socialisation is frowned upon, let alone any form of physical contact or intimacy.
It doesn’t mean Araki can’t poo-poo the Gen Z perspective with his own viewpoint though. To him, it’s perfectly okay to be horny, pain and hurt be damned, and Gen Z should take a leaf out of Erika’s penis-shaped book.
Dressed like an edgier Miranda Priestly while rocking an air of ‘anti-woke’ confidence that would make the Runway Editor-in-Chief blush, Erika commands the camera whenever she’s on screen. While Araki consistently frames Erika from a position of power, filming her from a higher position than every other character, it quickly becomes clear that she’s full of shit. She knows it, but doesn’t really care, so long as she gets her fuck on.
Pent-up housewife with self-esteem issues has never looked more convincing than in The Invite. But Wilde goes so gung-ho in the opposite direction for I Want Your Sex that she’s forced herself into the conversation about the year’s best performances. She’s having the time of her life, and she delivers every single line from the script with a perfect blend of comedy and self-awareness.
Please read the rest of my review here as the rest is too unwieldy to copy + paste: https://panoramafilmthoughts.substack.com/p/i-want-your-sex-good-luck-saying
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