I Want Your Sex (2026)
After a 12-year hiatus following the release of 2014's White Bird in a Blizzard, filmmaker Gregg Araki finally returns to the big screen with I Want Your Sex. Serving as Araki's exploration of the modern state of sex and the notable sex recession being seen within Gen Z, I Want Your Sex opens with 23-year-old Elliot (Cooper Hoffman) waking up to find his employer, the provocative artist Erika Tracy (Olivia Wilde), floating in her pool. Elliot is quick to jump in and pull her out, calling 911. As he is interviewed, Elliot takes the police into the last 9 and a half weeks of his life, starting at when he got hired to help out at Erika's gallery and eventually beginning an intense BDSM relationship with the artist. Elliot explains how Erika quickly grew to be an obsession for him, going deeper and deeper with his willingness to do anything for her, even as his life started to fall apart around him.
To be blunt, no filmmaker does it like Gregg Araki. Starting with smaller independent LGBTQ+ dramas in the 1980s and 90s, Araki would evolve his craft over the next couple of decades, going deeper with more experimental work. I Want Your Sex finds a nice balance between these voices, telling a grounded story using incredibly playful choices of style and expression. Araki brings a refreshing eye for personality and fun, using animation and absurd editing in a way that feels tragically lost in the lexicon of modern filmmaking. While I Want Your Sex has plenty of substance within what it is saying, the film also succeeds massively as a comedy and entertaining viewing experience. From awkward sex encounters to Cooper Hoffman's dumbfounded expression as he tries to find a response to the vulgarity and boldness of Erika, there are countless scenes throughout the film that will have audiences hollering.
When the film takes itself more seriously, the feature often feels like a desperate scream from Araki for modern generations to understand the power and joy of sex. The film vocalizes a conversation on how liberating sex can be, and how profound that connection can feel. However, because of Elliot's enjoyment of sex, his girlfriend, Minerva (Charli XCX), berates him for being a sex addict for wanting regular sex between the pair; this conversation never quite feels like it takes center stage enough to find an overly substantial follow-through. While characters on screen discuss how sex has evolved between generations, the practical situations they find themselves in rarely call for this dialogue, as it would if Elliot were hesitant or uninterested in sex.
This is also due to a noticeable change in direction halfway through the film. For the first half of Elliot's story, he is enamored by his relationship with Erika and the sexual freedom he feels taking the role of her sub. Being told what to do as a submissive and being pushed towards sexual experimentation gives Elliot a new fire and identity. However, towards the halfway point of the film, things drastically change. Out of almost nowhere, Elliot turns against Erika's mind games and dominant persona, finally being pushed over the edge when he is initially left out of a threesome involving Erika and another woman. This switch is jarring, and the film makes almost no effort to explain why Elliot would have such a massive switch in his views and feelings within the relationship.
There is a complexity within the relationship between Elliot and Erika that the film seems unable to fully explore or digest. The relationship, unquestionably, is toxic. Erika hires Elliot and teases him, playing mind games until she springs the question of sex on him completely inappropriately. Erika holds the power in the relationship as Elliot's boss, and the pair does no work to establish boundaries or negotiate their sexual scenes. This is even played for laughs as Erika tells Elliot to use their safeword if things get too intense, only for Elliot to remind her that they never created one to begin with.
The red flags are endless, and the film clearly is not blindly supportive of their behavior, but it also shows that both are finding something rewarding in this dynamic. In this sense, the film takes a set-up reminiscent of Harry Lighton's Pillion from earlier this year. However, both in I Want Your Sex and Pillion, the lines between what is expected of kink and what is unique to having an unhealthy partner begin to blur. While those familiar with these types of dynamics will have the ability to parse the situation, many will read the pain seen in both films as a condemnation of kink, as the films fail to express these lines. It doesn't help that I Want Your Sex, especially, doesn't seem to want to villainize Erika, even as her actions and disrespect for Elliot grow to unthinkable levels. While I Want Your Sex might want to have deeper conversations, the writing falls apart, and the film is left with its biggest success being dumb enjoyment by the end.
Make no mistake, however, that this is of no fault of those in front of the camera. With every role, Hoffman shows a new layer of his ability. Hoffman is no longer playing a child, but instead has grown to play a young adult, and brings a strong ability to throw himself into the uncertainty his character feels as he attempts to find himself after graduating from college. Elliot is lost, desperate, and unfilled, which makes him the perfect target for Erika. Wilde brings a scene-stealing display of sexuality and power, enchanting both those around her in the film and the audience watching. She commands each scene she is in and is truly excellent.
I Want Your Sex is a mixed bag for Araki on his return. While still as playful and inspired as ever before in presentation and personality, Araki struggles to navigate a conversation he is exploring from the outside. It is clear that Araki is fascinated by how new generations view sex, but being from a different generation, Araki struggles to capture the thoughts and minds of those he is trying to present. While fun, I Want Your Sex feels underwritten at multiple points, losing control of itself in the second half and never feeling like a full delivery of what it initially promised
To be blunt, no filmmaker does it like Gregg Araki. Starting with smaller independent LGBTQ+ dramas in the 1980s and 90s, Araki would evolve his craft over the next couple of decades, going deeper with more experimental work. I Want Your Sex finds a nice balance between these voices, telling a grounded story using incredibly playful choices of style and expression. Araki brings a refreshing eye for personality and fun, using animation and absurd editing in a way that feels tragically lost in the lexicon of modern filmmaking. While I Want Your Sex has plenty of substance within what it is saying, the film also succeeds massively as a comedy and entertaining viewing experience. From awkward sex encounters to Cooper Hoffman's dumbfounded expression as he tries to find a response to the vulgarity and boldness of Erika, there are countless scenes throughout the film that will have audiences hollering.
When the film takes itself more seriously, the feature often feels like a desperate scream from Araki for modern generations to understand the power and joy of sex. The film vocalizes a conversation on how liberating sex can be, and how profound that connection can feel. However, because of Elliot's enjoyment of sex, his girlfriend, Minerva (Charli XCX), berates him for being a sex addict for wanting regular sex between the pair; this conversation never quite feels like it takes center stage enough to find an overly substantial follow-through. While characters on screen discuss how sex has evolved between generations, the practical situations they find themselves in rarely call for this dialogue, as it would if Elliot were hesitant or uninterested in sex.
This is also due to a noticeable change in direction halfway through the film. For the first half of Elliot's story, he is enamored by his relationship with Erika and the sexual freedom he feels taking the role of her sub. Being told what to do as a submissive and being pushed towards sexual experimentation gives Elliot a new fire and identity. However, towards the halfway point of the film, things drastically change. Out of almost nowhere, Elliot turns against Erika's mind games and dominant persona, finally being pushed over the edge when he is initially left out of a threesome involving Erika and another woman. This switch is jarring, and the film makes almost no effort to explain why Elliot would have such a massive switch in his views and feelings within the relationship.
There is a complexity within the relationship between Elliot and Erika that the film seems unable to fully explore or digest. The relationship, unquestionably, is toxic. Erika hires Elliot and teases him, playing mind games until she springs the question of sex on him completely inappropriately. Erika holds the power in the relationship as Elliot's boss, and the pair does no work to establish boundaries or negotiate their sexual scenes. This is even played for laughs as Erika tells Elliot to use their safeword if things get too intense, only for Elliot to remind her that they never created one to begin with.
The red flags are endless, and the film clearly is not blindly supportive of their behavior, but it also shows that both are finding something rewarding in this dynamic. In this sense, the film takes a set-up reminiscent of Harry Lighton's Pillion from earlier this year. However, both in I Want Your Sex and Pillion, the lines between what is expected of kink and what is unique to having an unhealthy partner begin to blur. While those familiar with these types of dynamics will have the ability to parse the situation, many will read the pain seen in both films as a condemnation of kink, as the films fail to express these lines. It doesn't help that I Want Your Sex, especially, doesn't seem to want to villainize Erika, even as her actions and disrespect for Elliot grow to unthinkable levels. While I Want Your Sex might want to have deeper conversations, the writing falls apart, and the film is left with its biggest success being dumb enjoyment by the end.
Make no mistake, however, that this is of no fault of those in front of the camera. With every role, Hoffman shows a new layer of his ability. Hoffman is no longer playing a child, but instead has grown to play a young adult, and brings a strong ability to throw himself into the uncertainty his character feels as he attempts to find himself after graduating from college. Elliot is lost, desperate, and unfilled, which makes him the perfect target for Erika. Wilde brings a scene-stealing display of sexuality and power, enchanting both those around her in the film and the audience watching. She commands each scene she is in and is truly excellent.
I Want Your Sex is a mixed bag for Araki on his return. While still as playful and inspired as ever before in presentation and personality, Araki struggles to navigate a conversation he is exploring from the outside. It is clear that Araki is fascinated by how new generations view sex, but being from a different generation, Araki struggles to capture the thoughts and minds of those he is trying to present. While fun, I Want Your Sex feels underwritten at multiple points, losing control of itself in the second half and never feeling like a full delivery of what it initially promised