These movies f*ck. And also really want to f*ck.
Sam (Andrew Garfield) only wants two things – to discover secret codes hidden by society’s elite in the annals of Los Angeles and to get laid. And get laid again, and get laid again. In fact, every girl Sam that encounters throughout the course of a movie about the lengths we go to find purpose in a meaningless world, is a potential means to an end – the end being him ejaculating, obviously. Under the Silver Lake attempts to satirize the lustful nature of the male gaze in cinema and women’s placement within that gaze; as objects, as inhuman idolatries, and it creates a film where what the narrative is meant to condemn ends up becoming the very fabric of the film – though, perhaps, that’s entirely intentional. Everything in the movie oozes sexuality, a grimy, impure and animalistic desire for flesh on flesh, for beautiful, elusive women and what they mean as opposed to who they are – which is exactly how they’ve been treated, on the whole, in Hollywood history. But there’s something quite perversely indulgent about partaking in such outdated methods of thinking, even if the film’s intent is the opposite. Or maybe it isn’t. But maybe it is. What does it all mean?? (Brianna Zigler)
When it comes to impressively long, single-take hippie foot-job diatribes that end in libertine spankings and feverish, prostrate couch fucking, Inherent Vice stands alone. We should’ve expected as wild and prurient an atmosphere from the man who wrote and directed Boogie Nights. Paul Thomas Anderson’s adaptation of Thomas Pynchon places us in the center of 1970 Los Angeles, where free love and casual sex reigned supreme as the cool cultural standard for those who were the equivalent of today’s “woke,” which was nearly everyone in L.A. (because being down also meant getting free drugs). It’s a world where post-sex joints are as common as post-sex cigarettes, and the languorous, acid-dream imagery of Shasta in fields of flowers sends a tingle down your spine as significantly of any of its most explicit scenes. (Luke Hicks)
Dakota Johnson had plenty of practice in the realm of promiscuous allure after her starring role in the Fifty Shades trilogy, and it shows in Luca Guadagnino’s A Bigger Splash. She’s not the only one, of course. Splash is a clusterfuck of fleshy close-ups on some of Hollywood’s most beautiful creatures: Johnson, Matthias Schoenaerts, Ralph Fiennes, and, above all, Tilda Swinton. Wet, sweaty, and tense, the hot Italian thriller is essentially two hours of irresistibly lubricious energy pulsing on screen. Lewd dancing, mud-lathering, and nude lounging in the midday sun amidst the candid deviance in the air. You’d think a group made up of two monogamous lovers, an old friend, and a daughter would be a bit tamer, but you’d be drastically underestimating the willful raunchiness of Guadagnino. It also offered the meta-one-liner of the decade when it comes to sybaritic cinema: “Everyone’s obscene. That’s the point.” (Luke Hicks)
What could be hornier than an erotic thriller set at a gay beach/popular cruising spot?! Pierre Deladonchamps’ Franck has a crush on a mysterious stranger who might or might not have just killed someone. Alain Guiraudie takes a minimalist approach to dialogue and storytelling, allowing his actors’ expressions and the stunning scenery to guide our viewing experience. Although Franck is our protagonist and entry point into the story, Guiraudie keeps us at arm’s length from him, never allowed to know too much about what he’s thinking or feeling. It’s a sexy movie, made all the sexier by its ending. Stranger by the Lake’s nudity might be gratuitous, but its narrative unfolds like a delicate striptease. (Cyrus Cohen)
Peter Strickland’s The Duke of Burgundy is about being used as much as it is about being loved. Where do we draw the line? Or better yet, how far must we go before we reach the sublime? The film whispers in your ear and makes your hair stand up on end out of a sense of sheer carnal mystery. It hypnotizes you with the intricate and elegant mysticism of butterflies, the intrigue of deep, empty treasure chests, and the lustful indulgence of old, ornate homes. It’s about belonging to someone who is in complete control, every demand an intimation of venereal passion. The creaking of leather, the tightening of ropes, the breathlessness of submission. The Duke of Burgundy is a queer, kinky, voluptuous psychedelia steeped in a sinister and enchanting type-A fantasy. Prepare the knees for weakening. (Luke Hicks)
One of the very best, bluntest, and funniest movies about feminine sexuality, The To-Do List wants you to understand that women are as horny as men and they shouldn’t have to be modest about it. As virginal Brandy Clark (Aubrey Plaza) decides she wants to experience one of every type of sexual act before she leaves for college, the film becomes both an embracing of sexuality and a dismissal of its importance. Sex is both all-encompassing and empty – a surface-level pleasure-grab, and also an intimate act. It’s all quite silly, disgusting, embarrassing, and totally real; also, girls masturbate, let’s not ever forget that. The To-Do List is not simply horny because Brandy is horny, but because Brandy is allowed to be horny in this specific way: that is, totally normal. Feminine sexuality is not glamorized and prettied up, it’s awkward, uncomfortable, and aggressive, like how it is in real life. Women are allowed to want sex and they’re allowed to be fuckin’ weird about it. I mean, men don’t know how to not be. (Brianna Zigler)
The desperate, grave, corporeal sensuality of writer-director Julia Ducournau’s solo debut feature about a girl initiated into veterinary school is for a wave of folks into some very particular body fetishes, or perhaps vorarephilia. You don’t just watch a teenager eat other teenagers and get aroused like the average moviegoer might watching a steamy sex scene. Raw is salacious filmmaking at its most daring, it’s most inaccessible. That Ducournau would even embark on the eroticization of cannibalism through the eyes of a young, victimized girl seems relatively inane, but she pulls it off with lecherous ease. Regardless of whether it strikes a chord with you or not, the hedonistic carnal nature is undeniably pervasive in the film’s atmosphere. However, be prepared to embrace nausea if it hits you like it hits most. Otherwise, you’re in for a gory, twisted, licentious treat that will leave you questioning why the hell certain things get you going. (Luke Hicks)
The Favourite details the back-and-forth cat-and-mouse games between two royal attendants horny for power, Sarah (Rachel Weisz) and Abigail (Emma Stone), and their mistress Queen Anne (Olivia Coleman), who’s just plain horny. Power struggles and court intrigue are standard practice as far as period pieces are concerned, but the sapphic quality of Yorgos Lanthiamos‘s take on the genre is decidedly not. Plenty of films have detailed the luxuries of royalty—gold and jewels and gorgeous dresses; they’re all very photogenic after all—but few have dedicated themselves to depicting the “gorge til you puke and make room to gorge some more” hedonism of the filthy rich and utterly bored quite like The Favourite. (Ciara Wardlow)
Two bros chillin’ in a lighthouse dancin’ super close cause they’re not gay. Nah, just kidding, there is no heterosexual explanation for this movie. The Lighthouse is about two men who are both horny for a lighthouse—which is, objectively speaking, a giant glowing dick—and also each other. Yeah, sure, Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson) and Thomas Wake (Willem Dafoe) also hate each other, but there is a tension there. Tension of the I-want-to-fucking-kill-you-but-also-would-kill-to-fuck-you variety. As we mentioned up top, horniness is about desire. It is about how much you want to fuck, as opposed to how much you actually get laid. So while Robert Eggers’ sophomore effort might not have quite as much actual sex in it as many other entries on this list—though RPatz does fuck his hand (more on this subject later) and also a mermaid (almost certainly just in his head, but who truly knows at the end of the day?)—a deep, deeply frustrated, sexual desire permeates the entire film. (Ciara Wardlow)