‘How To Have Sex’ movie review: a vital coming-of-age debut by Molly Manning Walker
While Hollywood has given us their fair share of coming-of-age tales, there almost always seems to be a slight sheen to them – a shininess or overdramatisation that makes them feel less real, even if they convey relatable themes. Yet, in the hands of British filmmakers, some of the most honest and life-like portrayals of adolescence have emerged, perfectly capturing the trappings and hardships of stepping into the adult world, and Molly Manning Walker’s debut feature, How To Have Sex, is a vital entry to the canon.
If we look at the lineage of British filmmaking – from the 1950s and ‘60s kitchen sink realism to the directors of the ‘70s and ‘80s capturing the devastation of Thatcher’s Britain – the country has often produced movies that have blurred the line between fiction and reality. With How To Have Sex, Manning Walker presents a film that could’ve easily taken the shape of a documentary, allowing a strict, action-led narrative to fade away in favour of a snapshot of hedonistic partying, fraying friendships, adolescent pressures and sexual assault. Through this snapshot, which often includes flashbacks, Manning Walker creates a fascinating study of youth culture, which raises vital questions about the deeply ingrained attitudes instilled in British teens surrounding sex and substances.
How To Have Sex is a striking film – both thematically and visually, with its rich neon hues echoing the disorientation felt by protagonist Tara, played excellently by Mia McKenna Bruce. We are first introduced to Tara and her two friends, Skye and Em, as they land in Crete for a few days of non-stop partying in celebration of finishing their GCSEs. Donning cheap polyester dresses, the trio head out onto the booze-soaked strips and dance the night away before stumbling back with cheesy chips in hand. Soon, they meet two slightly older boys, Badger and Paddy, and spend the rest of the trip hanging out with them.
From the ominous documentary-like shots of Crete’s apocalyptic morning-after streets to the confronting close-ups of Tara’s face, Manning Walker alludes to the development of something, and for the female members of the audience, it’s not hard to imagine what that something might be.
As the girls continue to drink heavily, party and flirt, the film becomes more claustrophobic. The camera follows Tara closely, and McKenna Bruce’s brilliant execution of subtle facial expressions allows us to connect with her – we can feel the weight of these teenage pressures through every fake smile or squint of an eye. Thus, when she temporarily disappears, her absence feels heavy and uncomfortable, almost sinister.
The movie keeps a consistent pace, balancing quiet moments with images of raucous, nightmarish partying straight from an episode of Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents. It’s through this realism that Manning Walker is able to create a significant, lasting effect. The characters are all people we’ve met before, from the overconfident yet elusive party boy to the so-called friend who would rather humiliate us. No one seems like a caricature. Thus, at certain points of the movie, its intense realism hits like sharp, cold air in the back of your throat.
How To Have Sex doesn’t shout “consent!!” from the rooftops. Rather, it quietly depicts the way events can feel ambiguous and confusing, even when we know, deep down, what really happened. Manning Walker’s film isn’t loaded with didacticism. Instead, it showcases a desire to present the reality of such crushing situations. There is no Hollywood drama here – only a myriad of conflicting emotions that linger with us longer than any intense resolutions would.
Rarely are we given such a powerful, raw examination of British girlhood, and Manning Walker’s film only emphasises the desperate need for more female-directed stories to be told. Mixing humour with serious contemplation on the destructive yet normalised behaviours instilled in many British teenagers, How To Have Sex is a searingly powerful debut that feels more vital than ever.
