Rick's Reel Recommendations #4: 3 Films on Sex

RICK'S REEL RECOMMENDATION | COLUMN | MAHIMAHI / SEX

Written by Ricky Lai (he/him) | @rickylaitheokperson | Contributing Columnist

Social Media Coordinators note:

These films are in a Letterboxd list here: https://boxd.it/GqywG/detail

Follow Ricky Lai on Letterboxd here: https://boxd.it/lOR3

Adolescence: Episode 3 (Philip Barantini, 2025)

Yes, I am highlighting one episode in a four-part limited series on Netflix. This is that one about a 13-year-old schoolboy, Jamie (Owen Cooper), being the prime suspect in the fatal stabbing of his classmate Katie, and where each episode is filmed fluidly in a single-take. Impressive, no? The conversation sparked by ‘Adolescence’ – of right-wing, manospheric radicalisation being exposed to children via the unsupervised internet – has been a valuable crystallisation of where we are at, and where we’re going. Though one could suspect the show is clutching its pearls away from the scary new youth (it’s that good ol’ fashioned generational resentment!), and the final episode truly does overstep the line of being moralistic melodrama (Aurora needle-drop, anyone?), there are a few sections here where the live-in-the-moment form and the procedural stages of the investigation genuinely had me leaning forward, breathless, not even uttering a word of reaction to my partner.

Episode 3’s single-shot premise is about child psychologist Briony (Erin Doherty) and her final session with Jamie. In that sound-proof therapy room, without the need to display anything graphic, the exchange becomes a viscerally uncomfortable piece of television, off-handedly invoking the fissures in the broader cultural understanding of sex and gender norms; vital concepts that society – particularly male society – is conditioned to dismiss and scoff at whenever labelled correctly as ‘patriarchy’ and/or ‘toxic masculinity’. Discourse online has already drawn focus to magnificent details: a male surveillance guard making passes and veering a little too close for comfort, Briony’s professional composure becoming an intensely readable Rorschach-ian response when Jamie loses his temper, and the cheese-and-pickle sandwich – notably not Jamie’s favourite filling – which he takes a bite out of anyways, a double-edged symbol of the female attention the young man has been conditioned to not only desire, but feel entitled to, even if they claim to resent it anyways.

The most curious point to me, however, is when the name “Andrew Tate” – currently the biggest and most culpable name to the face of conquest-favouring, alpha-male radicalisation – is predictably brought up in the session. Jamie says that he is familiar with Tate’s content, and that he didn’t like it. Occam’s Razor tempts one to believe he’s just in denial – as with every other detail about the night of the murder – but I am encouraged to consider that the show is just being smart about the issue, purposefully implying that the tragic extremes of patriarchy are much bigger than just Andrew Tate’s following. Even if he, the grifting catalyst, were not posting such influential content online, the innate model of masculine insecurity still exists to shape men (and women) from a very young age. ‘Adolescence’, admittedly very much a parent’s point of view, considers potential roots of the tragedy: generational trauma, patriarchal biases, parental bonds (or lack thereof), education and online supervision. But in Episode 4, Jamie’s parents conclude that they raised a kind daughter in the same household that birthed their violent son, so perhaps it’s not enough to merely be ‘good role models’ after all. You have to identify the problem, name it, and attack it head-on. Ain’t enough to be ‘not sexist’; you need to be ‘anti-sexist’.

The Iron Rose (Jean Rollin, 1973)

If you’re after something from the age of sleazy European horror, then the sheer opulence of Jean Rollin’s tranquil, sexually-charged nightmare in a cemetery will hold you over nicely – especially if you have a craving to get high and watch something weird. A young couple wander into a graveyard in the evening, and when night falls, they cannot get out, and decide to confront death with transgression. It’s strange and funny, but I also think it’s a seriously amazing piece of atmospheric trash-art, best likened to a lucid combination of being really, really tired and then taking a wrong turn into a corner of town you’ve never seen before.

Green Snake (Tsui Hark, 1993)

There isn’t anything I’ve seen quite like this one – a gauzy, erotic, queer-positive fairytale splendour, re-interpreting the Chinese legend of ‘The White Snake’ with contemporary clarity. Hark takes the source fable very seriously, but that’s not to mean he doesn’t have a hysteric sense of humour when splashing the canvas with explosions of colour, floral tones, glinting water surfaces, ridiculous large-scale animal props, rich pan-Asian music cues, and gratuitous sex and violence (but never both at once). Huzzah!