Fucking necessary: 10 horror films where sex actually moves the plot forward
In these genre standouts, the act of getting down is used for far more than mere titillation.
By Emma Keates, Jacob Oller, Tim Lowery, Saloni Gajjar, Jen Lennon, and Matt Schimkowitz. Credits: Raw (Screenshot: YouTube/Universal Pictures), Halloween (Photo: Compass International Pictures/Sunset Boulevard/Corbis via Getty Images), X (Screenshot: YouTube/A24)
“There are certain rules one must abide by to survive a horror movie,” explains Randy (Jamie Kennedy) in Wes Craven’s 1996 post-mo slasher revival Scream. “Number one: You can never have sex.” Sex and horror movies go together more naturally than just about any else in pop culture, right up there with, well, sex and rock ’n’ roll. So what is it about that particular act—and all of the longing, fear, obsession, excitement, release, danger, and shame that it can entail—that makes it so suited for this genre? Why has it been touched on in everything as classic as Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and as recent as Ti West’s X trilogy? Sometimes, of course, sex is dropped in as nothing more than mere titillation. And there are too many horror movies to count (many from the ’80s) that depict kids getting sliced and diced after doing it for no other reason than it’s a sleazy trope and that, more basically, people like seeing naked bodies onscreen. But what about films where sex is actually one of the most critical aspects of its plot, characters, and themes? What about the ones where, without it, the movie wouldn’t—couldn’t—exist? For our Horrors Week edition of Inventory, we’re surveying just that: those freaky films in which sex actually drives the narrative.
It Follows (2014)
Sex is the narrative in It Follows, as Maika Monroe sprints, bikes, swims, and fucks to evade a sexually transmitted demon that constantly lurks just a few feet behind her. The only way to take on the entity is through sexual intercourse, and—despite the protagonists’ most creative efforts—the only real way to save yourself is to pass it to someone else. (It Follows tackled the concept of a supernatural STD long before Ryan Murphy got his hands on the idea, by the way.) But while sex is the through-line, It Follows is not a lurid (or even an erotic) movie by any standard. David Robert Mitchell’s film is far more concerned with the stigmas surrounding sex, as well as the ways it—in this case, literally—often feels like life or death as a teenager. We’ll hopefully have another great entry for this list when its sequel, They Follow, finally premieres. [Emma Keates]
Knife + Heart (2018)
Yann Gonzalez’s French ode to giallo takes place in and around a gay porn studio, where a gimpish killer with a switchblade dildo keeps penetrating sex workers…to death. Sex doesn’t just drive the plot of Knife + Heart; it’s everything in Knife + Heart. It’s the only way its characters can make sense of its hazy world. Anne (Vanessa Paradis) both investigates these murders and puts on a porn parody of her investigation. As danger approaches with the intimacy of a lover, Gonzalez makes the sleazy subgenre’s undercurrents into text, conveying everything through an erotic lens. And in adult theaters, lesbian bars, and sex clubs, Knife + Heart smartly frames the pleasures of the flesh as both a sanctuary and defense mechanism. [Jacob Oller]
Halloween (1978)
Sex is everywhere in Halloween, John Carpenter’s fantastic indie-horror phenom that, to this day, is still likely many young viewers’ first glimpse at not only the genre but onscreen nudity. It literally opens the film, in an impressive oner from six-year-old Michael Myers’ perspective as he watches his teen sister make out on the couch and then stabs her after she does the (one-minute) deed with her boyfriend. And it’s also pretty much the only topic of conversation our hero, Jamie Lee Curtis’ Laurie, has with her two pals: the ditzy Lynda (P. J. Soles) and Annie (Nancy Kyes), a truly terrible friend. Does Laurie’s virginity end up saving her? Does high-school horizontal action make Michael kill? Can this guy even get off, considering he’s basically a shell of a kid mentally? The jury is still, all these years later, out—but it’s clear Carpenter & co. are aiming for far more than mere titillation here. [Tim Lowery]
Raw (2016)
French writer-director Julia Ducournau leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination in Raw, her excellent and risqué debut feature. Despite all of the body horror, cannibalism, and grotesque violence, what lingers the most about Raw is the feral representation of sex and sexuality. Justine (Garance Marallier) biting her arm off to avoid chomping on Adrien (Rabah Oufella) wouldn’t ordinarily be seen as erotic, but damn if Docournau doesn’t bring immense sensuality into the shot. The film succeeds because it uses little dialogue and a great soundtrack to compound Justine’s transformation into a sex-crazed monster, which doubles as her coming-of-age. None of it exists solely for our viewing pleasure. Instead, sex becomes a tool for Justine to understand herself and her body as it mutates into something far out of her control. [Saloni Gajjar]