Review
A tale of two very different horny movies
Monica Barbaro and Callum Turner in One Night Only.Nicole Rivelli/Universal Pictureshide caption
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Nicole Rivelli/Universal Pictures
A wise man once said, Sex is natural, sex is good / Not everybody does it / but everybody should.
Don’t take this declaration literally — have sex if you want to, or don’t have it if you don’t. It’s the sentiment that’s admirable, the notion that sex doesn’t have to be shameful, rigid or distressing. It can be fun! It can be freeing! It can be weird, but in a good way! That spirit seems to have carried over into this summer’s movie season in some big ways: The buzzy comedies I Want Your Sex and The Invitehave been enthusiastic champions of unconventional sex and sexuality.
And this week brings two more films where desire and straight-up horniness are top of mind — Jane Schoenbrun’s excellent Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma and Will Gluck’s infuriatingly sex-negative One Night Only. The latter stars Monica Barbaro and Mr. Dua Lipa — er, Callum Turner.
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As the end credits rolled at my One Night Onlyscreening, I thought to myself, Did they really put out a mainstream sex-negative rom-com, in the year 2026, arguing for the so-called “upsides” of living under an authoritarian government? Also known as “the sex Purge movie” — because it echoes the popular action-horror franchise – director Gluck and writer Travis Braun’s high-concept dystopian love story is about two hot New Yorkers who keep having awkward meet-cutes during the one 12-hour-period a year when Americans are legally allowed to have pre-marital sex. (When the movie begins, the country is three years into the congressional mandate, which is enforced via biosensors branded on the wrist indicating one’s status as single or married.)
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It’s an inherently fascinating premise that could, in the right hands, be taken in creatively curious directions, interrogating right-wing policing of women’s and queer people’s bodies or even Gen Z’s supposed collective aversion to sex in most forms. That latter issue is of particular interest to Gregg Araki’sI Want Your Sex, which sees Olivia Wilde’s freewheeling artist character enter an ethically dubious yet consensual sexual relationship with her much younger employee, played by Cooper Hoffman.
But apart from a throw-away line here and there, One Night Onlyis thoroughly uninterested in engaging with the politics it explicitly conjures beyond a few clever sight gags. Instead, it leaves you with more questions than answers, thanks to unclear and avoidant world-building. (For starters: What, exactly, qualifies as “sex”? How do queer people and visitors from abroad factor into all of this?) The movie merely gestures at resistance against the mandates, and does so only half-heartedly and insidiously; the one character we see defy the law is made out to be an all-around deviant with a long rap sheet.
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And then there are multiple characters who outright state that just maybe, government-mandated year-round celibacy forces people to be “intentional” about who they sleep with — as if it’s a lemonade-from-lemons kind of situation. (Completely ignored is what it might mean to force couples into marriage who otherwise wouldn’t tie the knot, doing so just so they can have sex without fear of arrest.) To make all the pro-Gilead vibes even less digestible, the script’s humor is second-rate, and Barbaro and Turner just don’t give off the necessary heat to be the central couple. It fails in its dystopia andas a rom-com.
It’s a wonder One Night Onlyis being released the same week as Jane Schoenbrun’s Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma,a great, gory and viscerally sensual meditation on old-school slasher flicks.The two movies couldn’t be more different in their approaches to sex; their simultaneous arrival is like the inverse of the Armageddon and Deep Impacttwin-movies phenomenon of 1998. For Schoenbrun, sexual anxiety — presented here in the form of internalized societal judgment, among other things — is a hurdle to be overcome through confrontation with the self, not shrugged-off acceptance. Kris (Hannah Einbinder), a young queer indie filmmaker, has been tapped to reboot Camp Miasma,the fictional horror franchise that was key to her sexual awakening as a kid (think Halloween, Friday the 13th). She seeks out its now-reclusive original star Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson), who lives on the grounds of the remote abandoned sleepaway camp where the first movie was shot decades ago because, she — kind of — jokes, “Somebody’s gotta be here” when the franchise’s iconic monster, Little Death, returns.
Gillian Anderson and Hannah Einbinder in Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma.MUBIhide caption
At first, Billy is presented as a Norma Desmond type with a Dolly Parton-esque accent (Anderson lays the lilting southern drawl on thick), but the central dynamic between faded movie star and hungry filmmaker is way less antagonistic than Sunset Boulevard. It’s also far more erotic — Kris has largely suppressed her own sexual desires for human connection despite being in a polyamorous relationship, conferring all that energy onto filmmaking and a heavy obsession with the bloody, twisted fantasy of Camp Miasma. Rewatching that first Camp Miasmamovie together, Billy helps Kris lose her inhibitions and access a different side of herself; Einbinder and Anderson’s on-screen chemistry, sexual and otherwise, is blissfully alluring.
Schoenbrun, who is trans and nonbinary, is doing something remarkable with Teenage Sex and Death: They manage to draw upon decades’ worth of film theory and gender studies texts and render much of it cinematically, while largely avoiding too much didacticism or prescriptiveness. The film’s expression is sometimes messy, contradictory, and heady, but that’s a feature, not a bug, because sociological academia is often all those things too. So is the journey of sexual exploration.
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In Schoenbrun’s previous film, I Saw the TV Glow, which they described as their way of talking about “not being in one’s body … living as voyeur,” Owen (Justice Smith) rejects the calling to live outside himself in exchange for “comfort” in the “norm,” only to find himself truly miserable and unmoored. Teenage Sex and Death, conceived after Schoenbrun transitioned, shows a filmmaker on the other side of that unmooring, both conceptually and visually. (The production design by Brandon Tonner-Connolly and Matt Hyland is top-tier, and includes gorgeous matte backdrops and Hitchcock movie references.) Desire — even the supposedly weird kind that finds pleasure in “powerlessness,” as Billy puts it — is natural and good.
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Teenage Sex and Deathends up being a perfect tale for this moment — metatextual, chaotic, firmly progressive in the face of rapid societal regression and devaluation of intellectual rigor. (And also it must be said: a damn good time at the movies, if you don’t mind your eroticism with a side of gore.)
But then again, One Night Onlyfeels timely, too. It’s only astounding that a movie so retrograde and stealthily propagandistic about sex could exist if you ignore, well, everything going on right now. There will always be art made to meet and challenge repression, and art made to merely reinforce it. The only rare thing this week is that the yin and yang happened to arrive at the same time.
This piece also appeared in NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour newsletter. Sign up for the newsletter so you don’t miss the next one, plus get weekly recommendations about what’s making us happy.
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