'I Want Your Sex' review: Olivia Wilde dominates Greg Araki’s kinky satire

Courtesy of Magnolia Pictures

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Olivia Wilde, hot off the success of her directorial effort “The Invite,” dives headfirst into an entirely different kind of relationship in Greg Araki’s provocative erotica comedy “I Want Your Sex,” playing Erika Tracy, a celebrated artist whose latest creative obsession is exploring the messy intersection of power, intimacy and desire. When an underqualified twentysomething named Elliot (Cooper Hoffman) lands a job as her assistant on the spot, it doesn’t take long before their professional relationship slips comfortably outside the lines of HR policy and into something far more… hands-on.

Yes, “I Want Your Sex” is built around a BDSM relationship between a boss and her direct report, but Araki has considerably more on his mind than simply pushing buttons or testing audience comfort levels. Wrapped in outrageous humor, bursts of colorful animation and enough sexual innuendo to make even the most confident safe word blush, the film becomes a surprisingly thoughtful satire of artistic pretension, workplace power dynamics and the vastly different ways generations approach sex and intimacy. One of its funniest recurring observations is the notion that Gen Z would rather stay home watching porn or playing video games than actually having sex, but Araki doesn’t use the joke as a punchline. Instead, it opens the door to a broader conversation about why that disconnect exists.

Hoffman plays Elliot as a directionless slacker crashing at his best friend’s apartment, played by Chase Sui Wonders, before stumbling into employment with Erika. Their first meeting immediately sets the tone when she matter-of-factly asks whether he’s signed an NDA before they’ve barely exchanged pleasantries. That’s usually the first indication you’re about to get screwed.

Outside of work, Elliot’s girlfriend Minerva (Charli XCX) barely has time to acknowledge he exists while juggling medical school, and everywhere else he turns, sex seems to be staring him in the face. His co-worker Zap (Mason Gooding) casually boasts about the orgy he attended before work, while Elliot’s first assignment involves chewing gum and sticking the wads onto a giant illustration of a vagina. His fantasies are everywhere. His confidence, however, hasn’t quite caught up.

That quickly changes once Erika invites Elliot into her carefully curated world, where domination extends well beyond the bedroom. Every encounter becomes another exercise in surrender, not just physically but emotionally, as Elliot slowly mistakes manipulation for affection while Erika views every increasingly intimate interaction as another brushstroke for her next masterpiece. Their dynamic gives the film its strongest scenes, especially when conversations drift away from the kink itself and toward why intimacy has become so intimidating for younger generations. Elliot’s observation that COVID isolated an entire generation during some of its most formative years adds genuine perspective to what could have easily remained a throwaway joke about Gen Z’s sex lives. Araki smartly recognizes that emotional vulnerability, not sexuality, is really what’s on trial.

Wilde deserves the lion’s share of the credit. She fully commits to Erika’s towering ego, embodying someone whose artistic ambitions have long since eclipsed any sense of empathy. She’s magnetic and completely detestable in equal measure, manipulating everyone around her into serving both her career and her own gratification without ever questioning the damage left behind. It’s a performance that’s funny, commanding and quietly unsettling because Erika rarely views the people in her orbit as people at all.

Hoffman isn’t quite as successful. Elliot is written as someone simultaneously intrigued, empowered and overwhelmed by this new world, but Hoffman occasionally struggles to reconcile those conflicting emotions into one cohesive performance. There are flashes where he completely understands the assignment, but they’re offset by moments where he seems slightly disconnected from the material. A late confrontation with Erika, which should erupt with years’ worth of resentment and heartbreak, never quite finds the emotional release the story has been teasing. Likewise, Apple’s character feels oddly undercooked. Introduced as what appears to be a meaningful emotional counterweight for Elliot, she’s quietly pushed aside after one drunken evening, leaving a subplot that feels abandoned before it has the chance to develop.

The supporting cast remains game for Araki’s heightened sensibilities, with Daveed Diggs, Mason Gooding and Charli XCX all embracing the film’s offbeat rhythm. Johnny Knoxville and Margaret Cho, however, aren’t nearly as fortunate. Framed as the detectives piecing together Elliot’s story after the fact, they’re saddled with a narrative device that initially feels clever before steadily overstaying its welcome. The movie opens by teasing a mystery, but that’s never really what interests Araki. Every return to the interrogation room drains momentum from the far more compelling power struggle unfolding between Elliot and Erika, making the framing device feel less like foreplay and more like an interruption.

Still, when “I Want Your Sex” stops teasing itself and commits fully to its central relationship, it becomes a surprisingly sharp examination of power, consent, intimacy and artistic obsession wrapped inside a deliciously twisted comedy. It doesn’t always know when to pull out of weaker subplots, and a few emotional beats lack the necessary thrust, but Araki’s willingness to wrestle with uncomfortable ideas keeps the film stimulating long after the credits roll. In the end, “I Want Your Sex” proves to be far more than a provocative title. It’s an audacious, funny and unexpectedly insightful satire that rarely leaves its audience unsatisfied, even if it doesn’t quite stick the climax.

Grade: B

I WANT YOUR SEX is now playing in theaters.