THE STORY – When fresh-faced Elliot lands a job with artist and provocateur Erika Tracy, his fantasies come true as she taps him to become her sexual muse. But Elliot finds himself out of his depth as Erika takes him on a journey into a world of sex, obsession, power, betrayal, and murder.
THE CAST – Olivia Wilde, Cooper Hoffman, Mason Gooding, Chase Sui Wonders, Daveed Diggs & Charli XCX
THE TEAM – Gregg Araki (Director/Writer) & Karley Sciortino (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 90 Minutes
Just when we need him most, Gregg Araki has returned. After over a decade away from the big screen, the daring filmmaker is back with “I Want Your Sex.” With a title like that, it’s no surprise that it covers topics familiar to my fellow Araki fans: sexual dynamics, the power that intimacy can confer, and the ways it can be exploited. With American films more sexless than they’ve been since the Hays Code era, the return of the king of don’t-give-a-fuck sexual frankness is more than welcome. And while the film certainly has its fair share of subversive content and candid discussions, those hoping for a film that feels as revolutionary as his most heralded works of yesteryear should adjust their expectations. This is a movie about the repression of sexuality in the modern day, but made in such a way as to be relatively more palatable than some of his middle-finger-on-celluloid films of the past. That’s not to say this is a movie you can watch with your grandma (unless grandma is very cool), but it’s a surprisingly didactic film coming from one of cinema’s great provocateurs.
Araki’s central figure is the probably-heterosexual Elliot (Cooper Hoffman), an aimless young man who applies for a job at a modern artist’s workshop after realizing he should probably find some income to finally contribute to the rent his roommate/best friend Apple (Chase Sui Wonders) has been covering. This successful artist is Erika Tracy (Olivia Wilde), an unfiltered creative mind and self-proclaimed “pretentious whore from hell” who uses her artwork to explore the ability of sex to get people out of their heads and allow them to show their unvarnished, primal selves. Or so she says. She also has a penchant for being flippant about contemporary art, including her own, occasionally seeming to be in it only for the money. She also loves to lie, misrepresenting her intentions without a second thought (As she puts it, “I just say bullshit sometimes to see if anyone’s listening”). Shortly after he begins this job, Elliot is forcefully propositioned by Erika to begin a sexual relationship, with the relatively older woman taking on the relatively younger man as her sub. He’s unfathomably less sexually experienced than she is, struggling to even have semi-regular vanilla sex with his constantly-studying girlfriend, Minerva (played with a perpetual disinterest by Charli XCX). Erika introduces him to a world of kink and S&M, expanding his horizons in a way that Elliot himself even seems unsure of. Unsurprisingly, it’s not long before feelings arise and complicate matters, and Elliot has to examine what exactly he hopes to get out of this HR nightmare of a relationship.
The age difference between Elliot and Erika (Wilde is 19 years older than Hoffman) gives Araki the chance to bring to the screen conversations about how Gen Z views sex compared to Millennials. As anyone with a social media account knows, Gen Z presents as being much more wary of sex than most generations that came before them, and studies back this up. As Elliot explains to Erika, the reasons are many: the pandemic quite literally forced them apart at an important developmental stage, and there’s more clarity as to the rules of proper sexual interaction, leading some to anxiously avoid it altogether. Erika has no interest in these reasons, declaring that Gen Z is simply regressive and sex negative. It’s clear from these conversations and later plot developments that Araki has thoughts about generational differences he wants to express through his art. The less forceful manner in which he explores these topics gives the film the feeling of opening up a dialogue with the audience rather than shoving his thoughts and feelings in viewers’ faces, as he has done in the past to glorious effect. This may feel disappointing for Araki fans who were hoping he’d storm back into the modern neutered cinematic and societal landscape in a loud, unapologetic manner. Instead, it feels as if Araki has grown up a bit. Whether growing up is something to be admired or mourned is something viewers will have to decide for themselves.
But as always, Araki has assembled a talented ensemble of actors totally willing to follow their director to his very distant limits. Cooper Hoffman is wonderfully awkward as the Benjamin to Olivia Wilde’s Mrs. Robinson, turning nervous energy into something surprisingly compelling. Chase Sui Wonders serves as a wonderfully sympathetic and endearing oasis for Elliot amid the sea of obnoxious frankness that is his new workplace and colleagues. Wilde lives up to her last name, turning in her best work to date. She delivers a sensational performance, never for a second giving the impression of being anything less than a sexually powerful, adventurous person who truly and honestly doesn’t care what others think of her. It doesn’t feel like somebody putting on an armor of “who cares” to cover up an insecure inside; she clearly gave up on even wasting time with the thoughts and feelings of others long ago. She tosses off shocking lines without hesitation, slinking through the movie like a big cat on the hunt. It’s easy to see why Elliot gets quite literally seduced into her world.
Araki also lives up to his reputation for exuberant visual stylings. It’s not necessarily shot most dynamically, and some of the cartoonish accentuations are more distracting than anything. Still, the tangible objects and design choices that fill his screen are refreshingly vibrant. In particular, the costumes by Monica Chamberlain and Arianne Phillips are stunning. They adorn the artists who work for Erika in an array of eye-catching clothes that signal their youthful, bohemian, often-trying-too-hard energy, with some pulling double duty as visual gags. And Erika herself is always dressed in the most fabulous outfits. One asymmetrical red number that she wears to an exhibit opening is particularly striking, and her office and everyday apparel often include corsets and leather, making those around her (and the audience) constantly aware of her sexually forward attitude.
Even with relatively minor quibbles, it’s hard not feel appreciation that a contemporary movie made in an uncompromised fashion about such a cinematically unpopular topic as sex exists at all. Hopefully, Araki doesn’t take another 12 years off and continues to probe into other areas of modern human interaction.
