Their end-of-year exams have barely finished, Tara, Skye and Em, three English teenagers, arrive in Greece with the stated aim of drinking, celebrating… and more if they like. Naturally reserved, Tara is flattered by the interest shown in her by Badger, a charming compatriot. However, the more determined Skye also has a crush on Badger, so she pushes Tara into the arms of one of the latter’s friends: the less scrupulous Paddy. Under pressure from all sides to lose her virginity, Tara will experience a less sunny vacation than anticipated. In How to Have Sex (How to make Love), a first work with an autobiographical content awarded at Cannes, Molly Manning Walker addresses the question of consent without pretense or pretense.
The screenwriter and director, winner of the Un Certain Regard prize, immediately immerses us in the excitement that emanates from the trio of young girls. From the moment it opens, thanks to a hyperfeverish proximity camera, we sense the complicity that unites the vacationers.
Initially, the filmmaker often films them together, as an indivisible unit. Subsequently, as manipulations and betrayals occur, individual plans become more frequent, surreptitiously.
That being said, Molly Manning Walker focuses mainly on Tara (Mia McKenna-Bruce, remarkably accurate). She is the protagonist of what begins as a cheerful holiday story, but turns into a painful initiatory story – through its holiday context, its focus and its mixture of finesse and harshness in the form, How to Have Sex shows a certain relationship with Aftersun (Under the sun), by Charlotte Wells. Note: the discreet but very precise contribution of Quebec photography director Nicolas Canniccioni (The demons, A respectable woman).
Very frank conversations between the three friends emanate touches of humor which lighten the subject. However, like the group shots, these moments are more confined to the first part.
Energy, sensitivity, acuity
Moreover, the entire initial portion of the film turns out to be particularly well observed. Indeed, Molly Manning Walker shows with natural force, without ever giving the impression of a demonstration, how Tara undergoes triple pressure in matters of sexuality: the systemic one, exerted by society, the uninhibited one, exerted by the opposite sex, and the more insidious one, which can be practiced between friends.
In this regard, the filmmaker does not make the character of Skye a “villain”: she rather tries to understand her motivations. Which motivations are rooted in insecurities resulting from another type of social pressures. Further back, the character of Em, the studious one of the group, emerges at the end in an expertly written, directed and performed scene.
We see Tara trying to confide in Skye what happened to her. And Skye dodges said confidence, which she obviously does not want (or cannot?) to hear. Skye gone, Em arrives: pronto, her concerned look suggests that she has understood everything. Em then encourages Tara to speak in an attitude reflecting the exact opposite of that displayed by Skye.
Shortly after, Molly Manning Walker reunites the trio in the same shot. However, in a revealing choice, the filmmaker films Tara in isolation for the very last shot. A bittersweet film, full of energy, sensitivity and acuity.