How to Have Sex (2023)

How to Have Sex feels special because it captures teenage freedom and vulnerability with a clarity most films only gesture at, letting the messiness of growing up sit on the screen without judgment or easy answers. It’s a sunburnt, bass-thumping holiday movie on the surface—sweaty clubs, cheap drinks, big bravado—but beneath that pulse is an honest, raw look at how friendship, desire, and consent can blur in ways that linger long after the music stops. The performances are hauntingly natural, the kind that make you feel like you’re watching real people rather than characters, and the film’s insight comes from how quietly it observes rather than lectures. It’s not an easy watch, and it won’t suit anyone looking for a carefree party romp, but if you want a drama that’s gripping, important, and emotionally true, this one stays with you.

How to Have Sex is aiming for an unvarnished, coming-of-age snapshot of a girls’ holiday where freedom, peer pressure, and blurred boundaries collide, and it wants you to sit in the discomfort rather than enjoy the fantasy. If you’re expecting a fun, cheeky rite-of-passage romp, this can feel heavy, messy, and deliberately unglamorous, with sex and partying shown in a way some viewers read as gratuitous or more “look at this” than meaningful. It also portrays teenage confusion in a way that can come off as troubling rather than empowering, so it may leave you feeling uneasy instead of entertained. That said, if you can handle a raw, socially observant drama that prioritizes realism over likability or catharsis, it does have moments of honesty and emotional bite.