In what should be a star-making performance, McKenna-Bruce makes plain Tara’s interior pain and confusion, but colored with all manner of complicating secondary feelings: the relief that she’s finally done it, the dawning sense that it probably shouldn’t have been done that way, the hollowing fear that maybe that’s simply how it is. When we snap to hard, bleached morning light at one point, with the main strip as empty and desecrated as a Western ghost town, it’s as if we’ve woken up in another dimension, with a crushing hangover to boot. DP Nicolas Canniccioni’s camera charges bullishly through crowds at some points and gets swallowed in the swirl at others, pausing to gawp at flashing lights, burned onto the screen in all the colors of the glowstick rainbow. Juddering, distorted sound design mixes and remixes with a relentless EDM soundtrack to dizzy effect.
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Where he can zip up and resume the night’s hijinks without skipping a beat, she’s cast into a strange, woozy state of isolation, in which everything from the booze to the budget-Ibiza delirium of Malia’s bar scene to her friends’ exhilarated, conspiratorial banter now looks, sounds, tastes and indeed hits a bit different.Ī gifted cinematographer who most recently gave Sundance winner “Scrapper” its distinctive pastel-gritty look, Manning Walker opts for all-out visual and aural saturation to immerse viewers in a frenzied, teetering party-island atmosphere. Paddy is careful to secure a cursory “yes” from Tara before proceeding, but you’d be hard pressed to watch the power dynamics at play here, or her inebriated out-of-body language, and declare the encounter wholly consensual. What follows is a sex scene of astonishing, shiver-inducing detachment, on which the film’s whole giddy mood pivots. Tara has sweet, goofy chemistry with the less attractive lad, but it’s Paddy who’s presented as the prize: so much so that when he puts the moves on her, separating her from the crowd for a proposed beachside tryst, she feels almost obliged to accept. Among them are amiable doofus Badger (Shaun Thomas, a decade on from his wrenching childhood breakthrough in “The Selfish Giant”), who takes an early shine to Tara, and his cocksure friend Paddy (Samuel Bottomley) - the ladies’ man of the two, which in this social circle is merely to say his tattoos are marginally less regrettable and his name isn’t Badger. Their immediate objectives are limited to getting drunk and getting laid - with Tara, the bubbliest of the three but also the only virgin, feeling more pressure on the latter front than her pals.Įarly signs are promising, with the room opposite theirs occupied by a compatible crowd of friendly hedonists. School is over, exam results are imminent, and while Tara and Skye are pretty certain they’ve failed, the future is temporarily on hold. Manning Walker’s film lays out the minefield of sexual education and consent for a post-#MeToo generation, with a precision to its ambiguities that will draw gasps from its characters’ contemporaries and elders alike.īefore we get there, however, it’s all a hot, hormonal good time: You can practically smell the suntan lotion, flavored lipgloss and cheap spirits spilling from the bags of 16-year-old besties Tara (a sensational Mia McKenna-Bruce), Skye (Lara Peake) and Em (Enva Lewis) as they roll (or more accurately stagger) into the Cretan resort town of Malia, heading for a giggly night swim before blagging themselves a poolside room at a self-catering hotel beset with hundreds of other whooping British students. As for that teasing, cheeky-sounding title, it’s both ironic and instructive. Here is a film for every 16-year-old still finding their real identity between their brash friend-squad front and the most diminishing taunts of their self-image, and for every older person who remembers that, and hasn’t the heart to tell them it may be an ongoing search. “How to Have Sex” is equally likely to endure comparisons to Charlotte Wells’ “Aftersun,” last year’s great British debut about regimented package-tour fun bringing out the latent melancholy of troubled holidaymakers - again, a reference point that captures some sense of the film’s brightly dilapidated milieu but not its very specific, vividly evoked anxieties.
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