Warning: This article discusses themes of sexual assault
OPINION
At first glance, How to Have Sex may appear to be just another glamorised coming-of-age story depicting the familiar tropes of sex, drugs, and partying in an unhinged yet youthful fashion. Following three teenage girls as they embark on a holiday in Crete to join countless other young adults, seeking a taste of freedom from their UK lives and impending GCSE results, the hedonistic nature of their trip is made clear from the get-go.
But as the film progresses beyond the initial thrill and anticipation of the girls’ journey to Malia, a resort town on the island, the underlying message hidden between the lines of Molly Manning Walker’s directorial debut begins to emerge. Despite the apparent innocence and naivety of the characters, a difficult narrative unfolds that moves beyond the expectations set forth in its straightforward title. In fact, everything you’d expect from a film with an instructive title on how to have sex is the last thing you should be looking out for. But that’s exactly how Manning Walker wanted it to be.
Mia McKenna-Bruce landed her breakthrough role playing the sweet but somewhat reserved lead character Tara. While her two friends Skye (Lara Peake) and Em (Enva Lewis) unassumingly boast their sexual confidence and approach their holiday in the party town with mild intemperance, Tara remains uniquely discerned from the rest. Why? She hasn’t had sex yet. The experience is something Tara seemingly wants, but she doesn’t know where to start and feels left behind. Her friends’ expectations quietly lead Tara to put pressure on herself to reach the milestone.
Her differences from the rest become more apparent once they meet their hotel neighbours - Badger (Shaun Thomas), Paddy (Samuel Bottomley) and Paige (Laura Ambler) — who bring sexual tension into the mix through their unchecked confidence and suggestive innuendos. Skye — who teases Tara over her virginity — and Em — who becomes preoccupied with her connection with Paige — make Tara’s loneliness more pronounced as they dissociate from each other and pursue their own interests.
In a party town that thrives off a 24/7 drinking culture and brazenly promotes sex as a necessary accompaniment, the film foreshadows early on that the subtle pressures of growing up can always turn into something more sinister when they’re exploited. In Tara’s case, Paddy preys on her vulnerabilities and brings the excitement of her self-discovery journey crashing down as she deals with his persistent and unwanted advances alone. All the while, her friends presume she’s in good hands, leading Tara to turn inward for her own solace and support.
What should you expect from this British indie film then? How To Have Sex has received widespread acclaim from critics for its eerily authentic depiction of the realities women face as they navigate their way into adulthood within a society that perpetuates the “male gaze” and minimises its impact. This theme emerges early on as the characters begin to talk about who’s sleeping with who, and Paddy’s relentless pursuit of Tara further accentuates it.
The assumption of female passivity is a prevalent issue that recurs all too often both on-screen and in real life. But for Tara, you see the consequences of that assumption unfold in her eyes and through her expressions, as she grapples with varying feelings of lust, hesitation, pain, confusion and acceptance. While she gauges her experiences in secret, her friends remain blissfully unaware of her inner turmoil.
It is in these moments that McKenna-Bruce shines her brightest as she captures the essence of Tara’s traumatic journey through either little or juxtaposing dialogue, and subtle changes in her behaviour and body language. It is only fitting that she was awarded the Rising Star Award for her performance at last month’s BAFTAs.
Speaking of the BAFTAs, Prince William’s awkward remark to McKenna-Bruce at the recent awards ceremony, though unintentional, was a fitting way to shed light on society’s casual disregard for women’s experiences and agency, even in progressive circles like the media.
Despite taking shape in a post-#MeToo world where conversations around consent have become commonplace in many universities, workplaces and households, Manning Walker’s film explores how little has actually changed by bringing the conversation where it currently stands back to where self-discovery and consent all begins — as teens.
Tom Rose is a digital producer and editorial assistant for the NZ Herald, who covers lifestyle, entertainment, and travel.