I Want Your Sex (2026) Review

Perhaps one of cinema’s most beloved provocateurs, Greg Araki returns after twelve years with an erotic comedy thriller that thinks it’s more controversial than it actually is. Following Elliot’s sexual misadventures after he begins a sado-masochistic affair with his anti-woke boss, this film is, first and foremost, a wild ride. Araki makes some genuinely fun formal choices that, 39 years after his first film, reveal the writer-director at his most playful. While the movie succeeds at effectively building characters and exploring their relationships, I wasn’t as convinced when it came to the film’s attempts at social commentary.

In several interviews, Araki has described sex-positive Erika as his mouthpiece for decrying how Gen Z is less interested in sex than previous generations, and that’s almost too obvious. While this discourse is hardly new, the lengthy, expositional dialogue it’s explored through not only feels like the director ranting at us from behind the camera, but, even worse, seems reductive. Araki has mentioned his inspiration for this film came from an article profiling several young men who would rather play video games than have sex, but the film doesn’t seem interested in interrogating why that is. Instead, it’s content to place all the blame on screen time and move on to its next hyper-eroticized set piece.

That said, this movie is a great argument for the inclusion of sex scenes. Each one feels like it’s saying something about how the characters relate to each other, tracking a power dynamic that sometimes shifts and completely upends within a single scene. Maybe what’s most important is how Araki is so willing to depict sex as being, well, un-sexy. There are awkward moments, characters hesitantly laughing. It feels human. Despite using Erika, who says her art only means ‘money in my bank account,’ for a rather nihilistic critique of the shallowness of contemporary art, Araki clearly has something to say about human connection and obsession. The use of animation, and some great needle drops from bands like Slowdive express a well-aimed pop awareness that even comes through in the color and patterns used in the set design and cinematography.

There’s a scrappiness to the camerawork and framing here that I don’t think can solely be attributed to the film’s quick, seventeen-day shoot. Instead, it feels like the film, on a visual level, intentionally embraces its constraints, making them parts of the movie’s DNA. There’s a lot of harsh light that mimics a pornography set and adds a kind of menace to Elliot’s fantasies, helping set up the moment things spin out of control. Despite the central relationships onscreen being heterosexual, Araki has described the film as having a ‘queer sensibility,’ and I can see it. A lot of this movie’s look calls back to Araki’s work in the New Queer Cinema movement in the best way, from the shaky handheld camerawork to the raw, vulnerable performances.

I have a real respect for how these actors recklessly threw themselves into the chaos that is this script. It asks a lot of them, but I think they all rise to the occasion. Olivia Wilde in particular gives one of the more memorable performances this year as Erika. Her facial expressions, voice control and gestures help her strike an interesting balance between camp and being genuinely disturbing. She’s not exactly a well-rounded character, with her disregard for safe words and consent, but this isn’t a movie that needs all its characters to be subtle. Cooper Hoffman does a great job as the wallflower Elliot. It’s interesting to see his performance change as Elliot gains more self-assurance throughout the film after learning the cost of his fantasies; it’s a very embodied performance, which works for a movie like this. The two have a great chemistry that makes for a very fun watch.

Despite not being totally convinced by its societal diagnoses, I do appreciate the bold swings this movie takes with its story, performances, and its visuals. The soundtrack is also killer. I Want Your Sex is now available on VOD, and while he may still have a lot to learn about the younger generations, this film is a great reminder that Araki’s style and refreshing voice haven’t aged a day.