‘I Want Your Sex’ Review: Olivia Wilde and Cooper Hoffman Are Hot for One Another in Gregg Araki’s Unapologetically Randy Rom-Com

Sure, the devil wears Prada, but what does an aggressive contemporary artist wear to work? How about a see-through dress and stiletto heels? Kinky costumes are just a fraction of the fun in Gregg Araki’s “I Want Your Sex,” which stars Olivia Wilde as Erika Tracy, the most domineering movie boss since James Spader in “Secretary” (the last BDSM-themed workplace comedy to premiere at Sundance). Cooper Hoffman plays her all-too-eager subordinate in a film that’s fully liberated where sex and nudity are concerned, but kind of old-fashioned when it comes to the interpersonal dynamics between its lusty leads.

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Surprisingly enough, “I Want Your Sex” shares a decent amount of common ground with screwball classics like “The Shop Around the Corner” and “His Girl Friday” — not that anyone in the target demographic will be making the connection. For Araki, who most recently tried remixing familiar themes for a new generation with “Now Apocalypse,” this unconventional rom-com feels like a natural extension of the queer indie pioneer’s sex-positive sensibility, even as he steers things into novel territory.

Infinitely less punk that his early work, though still edgier than nearly everything else out there, “I Want Your Sex” represents a sincere attempt by Araki to connect with the kids, whose relationship to sex couldn’t be more confusing to a child of the ’60s: Whereas Araki is a child of the Swinging ’60s, the neuter-minded audience for this movie grew up overexposed to porn and insecure about intimacy, but relatively considerate when it comes to consent. That’s why Hoffman’s Elliot seems so thrilled to find himself at Erika’s service: When she’s in charge, “I don’t have to make any decisions,” he beams, more than happy to relinquish control. But even that freedom can go too far.

As the movie opens, Elliot stumbles out of Erika’s posh mansion in a blood-splattered pink bra and panties, only to discover his boss floating face down in the pool. Cut to a police interrogation room, where a straight-faced Margaret Cho and Johnny Knoxville grill Elliot about what happened. “9 1/2 weeks earlier,” reads the fluorescent pink caption (Araki is second only to Almodóvar when it comes to ultra-saturated color schemes), winking at ’80s cine-kinkster Adrian Lyne.

Most erotic movies come with an element of danger, and though this one starts off with Elliot under suspicion for Erika’s death, Araki can’t resist leaning into the comedy — and why not? Sex should be joyful, and even when there’s degradation and pain play involved (pig masks and ball gags, handcuffs and sharp heels), he clearly thinks it’s more fun to laugh alongside the participants than to go down whatever dark black rabbit hole directors like David Cronenberg and the Wachowskis do with their leather and latex.

Araki movies are color-coded like candy, and “I Want Your Sex” is no exception, especially when it comes to Erika’s art studio, where Elliot is hired as one of her assistants. They’re the grunts who paint the papier-mâché phalluses and chew gum all day, sticking the bright pink wads to a labia-shaped canvas. “Contemporary art is a scam,” opines Erika. “The real art is convincing people you’re making something meaningful.” With those words, Araki could be criticizing fellow queer director Bruce La Bruce, who has somehow figured out how to get each new film (no matter how terrible) invited to prestigious international film festivals.

By contrast, Araki belongs to the John Waters school of outsider filmmaking, poking fun at uptight mainstream culture, whether that’s via a stoner comedy like “Smiley Face” or a nihilistic cri de coeur like “The Doom Generation,” without paying much mind to such square notions as “good acting.” Wilde delivers a pure-camp performance here, trying to one-up Miranda Priestly with her imperious workplace attitude, cover-girl eyeliner and droll line deliveries. More ferocious than any cougar, she lures Elliot into her spider’s web of an office and threatens to report him to HR, before propositioning him for sex. She wants it without strings. He’s too naive to realize she’ll have him whipped in every sense of the word.

Elliot already has a girlfriend (Charli xcx), though she’s too distracted with grad school to satisfy him sexually. So he turns to his friends for advice, whether it’s Chase Sui Wonders as the roommate who lives vicariously through his exploits or Mason Gooding as his insatiably gay co-worker. The script (which Araki wrote with “Now Apocalypse” partner Karley Sciortino) never fully makes the case for how this vixen figured out her employee’s deepest fantasies, though nearly all of Araki’s characters are sexually fluid, so maybe Elliot’s awakening isn’t such a stretch.

In Hoffman’s hands, Elliot looks like a cross between the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman (the young actor’s dad) and a roguishly handsome member of the Kennedy clan. He amounts to a less confident version of his “Licorice Pizza” character, still plenty enthusiastic about crawling around on all fours or taking a sex toy in the backdoor (the look on Elliot’s face after Erika penetrates him for the first time says it all). Tellingly, when thinking about Erika on his own, Elliot entertains more traditional desires, like getting married and starting a family.

Hoffman and Wilde’s commitment makes the film feel more important than it is. It’s better to think of this either as pure, irreverent escapism or a guiltless pleasure. There’s no important message or perceptive social insight to be gleaned from “I Want Your Sex,” beyond Araki giving the kids enthusiastic permission to test their own boundaries. Once you get past the shock, the plot falls apart. But that hardly matters, since Araki’s achieved his main goal: getting a repressed generation to loosen up about sex by pushing the boundaries between profound and profane. How’s that for a happy ending?