How to Have Sex (2023)

Fifteen minutes into Molly Manning Walker's debut full length feature, I was terrified I was going to have suffer through another hour and a quarter of three irritating sixteen year old girls behaving appallingly on a sex, booze and drugs infused holiday to Malia. As we meet Tara (Mia McKenna-Bruce), Skye (Lara Peake), and Em (Enva Lewis), they're preparing for the holiday of a lifetime, filled with the exploits previously mentioned. Tara is a virgin, and seemingly desperate to rid herself of that tag, egged on by her friends who assure her it will happen on the impending holiday where everyone they meet will apparently be up for it. Sound like your worst nightmare, or perhaps more pertinently, familiar? What a thrill then, to be able to announce that How to Have Sex is one of 2023's finest films. When the three arrive in Malia we immediately note the confidence of Skye, the one who seems to have the most experience with boys, as she talks the receptionist into giving them a hotel room overlooking the pool, in a complex that's filled with youngsters who have come here to do nothing but drink, take drugs, and never sleep alone. They're pitched next to a room of two boys and a girl; Badger, Paddy, and Paige, and instantly become embroiled in conversation fueled by alcohol. The three girls are also trying to forget the fact they're waiting on exam results, and although there's no doubt Em's future is all set, Skye and Tara especially are nervous about the outcomes they might provide. So Tara losing her virginity would provide a nice distraction from the woes of her future, or so she thinks. It's obvious she likes Badger- although a buffoon, he seems a nice enough chap, whereas Paddy seems the more confident and headstrong; attributes that, put to use in such a setting, can produce results that split opinion depending on your mindset. This is the crux of Walker's film. It's no spoiler to reveal that Tara does indeed lose her virginity in Malia; the questions the film raises are to do with culture, consent, and interpretation. I've read reviews of the film that suggest it paints men in a bad light, but this isn't the case; Walker is at pains to disprove such a claim with the character of Badger (to an extent), most notably in a scene (after Tara's supposed initiation into the world of women) that although somewhat clumsy, completes the job Walker is implementing. There's no question that the scene of the film- a lads/girls sex soaked holiday on the strip of Malia in which you can almost smell the booze through the screen- automatically lays down a grey area in terms of expectation, peer pressure, consent, confusion and regret. Tara's desire to have sex for the first time on this holiday is intermingled with all of those feelings, amongst a whole host of ranging emotions that somewhat inevitably lead to her losing her virginity at a time in which the idea of consent is replaced by expectation, from both parties. Tara clearly isn't comfortable, but if she doesn't say anything, is that her giving silent consent? Of course not, but in the time and place, it's easy to see why the male involved thinks he's doing nothing wrong. And in Tara's head, if she makes him stop, is that her simply not growing up, according to her friends? When another scene like this comes round there's no doubting whatsoever the notion of consent. But once more Walker opens up the concept of entitlement within the culture. It's one that's grown over the years and has cemented the perception within minds of individuals that this sort of behaviour is absolutely fine, expected even. Add that to the self-defining sagacious nature of the personalities and attitude towards this sub-culture of 'holidaying', and there is going to be confusion and without doubt, criminal acts. Add in a whirlwind of mind altering substances, and inevitably the results can cause a whole heap of misery. But, as one character poignantly announces, "What happens in Malia, stays in Malia!", and in a nutshell, sums up How to Have Sex. The performances from the entire cast are superb, Mia McKenna-Brown as Tara especially is fantastic. Her face in one particular shot as she performs a take on the dreadfully entitled 'walk of shame' down an empty strip that's paradoxically filled with trash mirrors the emotions her face gives away: empty, yet full to the brim with shame, regret, but mostly confusion. Lara Peake also shines as Skye; outwardly the most confident of the three friends and yet arguably the most vulnerable. When the camera lingers just a shade longer on her face at times, the uncertainty in her own actions becomes apparent, as does the obvious jealousy she feels when Tara gets more attention than she does, resulting in nasty digs at Tara that Skye brazenly passes off as jokes. Walker provides a film that far from showing promise, delivers a knockout blow in one fell swoop. The ambiguity of the rep-led holiday (which includes some truly disgusting 'hilarious' sex games, which performed in any other public spot would result in jail time) is a marker for a film which strangely reminded me of J.G Ballard's novels High-Rise (1975) and Super Cannes (2000), amongst his other work. Ballard's dystopian novels of every day settings in which buildings or places and the people within them slowly become a law unto themselves, is strangely reminiscent of what appears to have happened with this sort of teenage lads/girls holiday. Consent becomes subjective, morality is left at home, and what happens on holiday, stays on holiday. Until you get home and realise you're still trying to process something that may or may not have happened years ago on a Greek island. 8.3/10