This impressively naturalistic and quietly devastating exploration of consent focuses on sixteen-year-old Tara as she takes a trip to Malia with her best friends, the envy-prone Skye and the empathetic Em, to celebrate the completion of her exams - and, perhaps, to distract her from the anxiety surrounding her soon-to-be-released grades - by drinking, clubbing and maybe, just maybe, hooking up with some strangers. The trip holds extra importance for her, as she's the last of her friends to still be a virgin and feels the need to rectify this before she returns back home (largely due to societal pressure pushed by her peers - or, rather, one in particular). Strikingly realistic in its every aspect, the picture plays out like an authentic coming-of-age slice of life and keenly cuts to the core of a feeling all too familiar with so many of us, particularly women. While it does generally have a fly-on-the-wall vibe, it also makes use of distinct cinematic techniques to draw you wholly into its hero's headspace. It's an intimate, often incredibly uncomfortable picture that has a lot to say and isn't afraid to say it. It doesn't so much start a conversation as it does make its point and let you chew on it; the ethics surrounding its central issues are pretty black and white, and they aren't intended to be debated so much as communicated. Indeed, 'How To Have Sex (2023)' actually has an implied 'Not' in the title. Whether it reflects someone's own experience and makes them feel seen or challenges someone's behaviour and (hopefully) makes them be better in the future, the film will likely resonate deeply with everyone in its audience. Its power grows the longer you have to sit with it, and its true brilliance is only really evident in retrospect. It's a powerful picture, for sure, arguably because of - not in spite of - its general subtlety. It's essential viewing for, well, pretty much everyone, really.
