Before we get into any deeper discussion of Molly Manning Walker‘s electrifying, propulsive feature debut, How to Have Sex, the first thing that needs to be pointed out is how stunning a performance Mia McKenna-Bruce gives as our lead, Tara. It’s demanding, physical and vulnerable, being the focus of nearly every shot and a good deal of both positive and negative attention from other characters. So it’s commendable how McKenna-Bruce is able to both establish and maintain Tara’s humanity and inner life, adding untold layers to the film’s distinct and discussion-welcoming ending. As trite as it is to say (not to mention true of any good performance), it must be pointed out that How to Have Sex wouldn’t be as successful a movie as it is without her.
Walker deftly introduces new subgenres to her film as it progresses. We start with what seems to be a youthful buddy comedy. Tara and her friends Em (Enva Lewis) and Skye (Lara Peake), who appear to be in the range of eighteen to nineteen years old, have just arrived in Greece for a holiday at a debaucherous resort inhabited, apparently, only by other young Brits. Early scenes are marked by drunken bonding, vomiting, eating french fries and just generally exhibited a hilarious disregard for anyone outside of their circle of three. This is what friends do.
From there, we segue into romance when Tara and a boy staying in another room at the resort spy each other one morning from their respective balconies. Badger (Shaun Thomas, who played the older boy in Clio Barnard‘s The Selfish Giant) calls her “sexy” and “smokeshow” in his adorable Northern accent and an ongoing flirtation has begun; it reaches the peak of its cuteness with the phrase, “Romeo, Romeo, where is ye?”
Ultimately, of all the genres it embodies, How to Have Sex is a coming of age story. But the heightened circumstances of the nonstop partying and inebriation combine to make Tara’s journey move at a speed that threatens to go beyond her comfort. Not since Lost in Translation has a movie so perfectly tapped into the way new connections between two people grow fast and strong when both are away from home (though Walker’s film is louder, sweatier and more retina-searing than Sofia Coppola‘s).
Those elevated emotions also mean elevated pressure for Tara. Like an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in which a monster represents an entire facet of teenage experience coalesced into one nasty threat, How to Have Sex condenses all of Tara’s self-consciousness about her virginity and her trepidation about giving it up, especially with incessant pressure coming from Skye to do so before the trip is over, into TNT. Walker reminds that, though we all reach adulthood at the same time in terms of pure numbers, our internal paces and definitions vary infinitely. If enough bodies moving at different speeds occupy the same, highly charged space, someone is going to get hurt or, worse, taken advantage of.
