AceShowbiz - Veteran filmmaker Gregg Araki makes his long-awaited return with I Want Your Sex, a film dissecting contemporary youth sexuality through a provocative artist’s lens. The movie introduces Erika Tracy, portrayed by Olivia Wilde, a self-proclaimed provocateur whose art straddles the spectacle of Dave LaChapelle and the grandiosity of Jeff Koons. Her work, characterized by oversized ball gags and highly saturated photographs of herself and lovers in sexual acts, positions her as pop art’s poster child or its persona non grata.

Erika Tracy is depicted as bullish, selfish, and deeply ridiculous. Her approach to art mirrors her existence: an unabashed, almost sociopathic admiration for abuse. As the central figure in I Want Your Sex, her character aims to provoke, though the intended target remains ambiguous. While her explicit artwork might shock, it hardly breaks new ground. It becomes clear that Araki harbors incredulity towards Gen Z, a generation reportedly engaging in sexual activity at a tamer rate. He uses Erika as a conduit for his frustration, posing the question, "Why aren't young people having sex?" — a query reminiscent of an inverse Boomer lamenting youth and cellphones.

The core question Araki raises is intriguing. Exploring why younger generations might be less inclined towards sexual activity could offer rich cinematic ground. However, I Want Your Sex largely bypasses this inquiry, opting instead for a scattershot approach. The film possesses moments of humor and occasional sensuality, and it leans into the peculiar. Yet, it rarely achieves its full potential, nor does it often succeed for reasons Araki seems to believe. Its most problematic aspect lies in its treatment of sexual predation, abuse, and assault, handled with the same unsettling casualness that Erika applies to her art.

This disturbing casualness is most evident in Elliot, played by Cooper Hoffman, who serves as Erika's assistant and, essentially, her human sex toy. His role blurs the lines between muse and breathing dildo, highlighting the film's troubling depiction of power dynamics and consent. An early scene, where Elliot wakes up covered in blood at Erika's home, underscores the film's flippant attitude towards potentially traumatic events. Instead of delving into complexities or consequences, I Want Your Sex treats these instances of predation and abuse as mere kinks or artistic expressions, effectively trivializing the gravity of sexual violence.

Ultimately, Gregg Araki's return with I Want Your Sex misses its mark. What could have been a sharp, incisive satire on modern sexuality devolves into a muddled, uncomfortable viewing experience. By reducing predation and abuse to a casual aesthetic choice within Erika's world, the film undermines any genuine attempt at social commentary. It leaves the audience not with challenging questions about Gen Z or performance art, but rather with a lingering unease about its problematic narrative choices and a sense that its satire is, regrettably, more limp than cutting.