“Love”
It is legally required in any Horny Movies list to include the work of French provocateur Gaspar Noé. And while you might assume “Climax,” his LSD-spiked-punchbowl dance rave movie would be the most appropriate film for this list, it’s actually more of a hellish nightmare movie, and “Love,” is actually far hornier. Sure, at the end of the day, it’s Noe’s version of Mia Hansen-Løve’s “Goodbye First Love,” a very melancholy and autumnal look at the one that got away and the one you’ll never forget—it’s also a fragmented flashback film that aches with regret. It’s Noé’s most mature work to date, which is also a laughable thought give how infantile some of it may seem at first, but also true. But the journey to love is a whole lot of horny fucking, shot in 3D in all its jizz-soaked glory—that moneyshot ejaculate spraying the camera? Eat your fucking heart out “Avatar.” With its big bushes, unsimulated sex, rubbing, tugging, ffm threesomes, and big boners, “Love” was made for the Pornhub crowd and probably has some kind of emeritus status on the site. Yet, for all its erotic arty softcore-ness that titillates and shocked Cannes upon, Noé’s drama is a real attempt at saying something meaningful about amour and the one you want to fuck forever and is there anything hornier than that? – RP
“Mad Max: Fury Road” (2015)
When George Miller unleashed his crowning masterpiece in 2015, it was called many things – mesmerizing, breathtaking, empowering – but “horny” rarely appeared in its reviews. Make no mistake, though: “Mad Max: Fury Road” is hornier than a ten-peckered owl. The story of a post-apocalyptic warlord pursuing a trusted lieutenant who has made off with his prized “breeders,” the film is an action-packed meditation on what it means to own the rights to your own future. For the escaped women, this means a reclamation of their sexuality, and independence from the man who would lock it away with rusted bank vaults and fanged chastity belts. This is no small task, however, for the warlord, Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne), musters the combined might of all his power to reclaim these women in a relentless, blood-soaked chase. Along the way, the audience bears witness to the burgeoning romance between one of Joe’s brainwashed minions, Nux (Nicholas Hoult), and escapee Splendid (Rosie Huntington-Whiteley), whose relationship acts as a counterpoint to Joe’s paternalistic obsession. Max (Tom Hardy, spending the bulk of this horny movie chained to things) and Furiosa (Charlize Theron) may be the heroes of the picture, but the soul of “Fury Road” lies in its exploration of lust, and how it can be weaponized for both good and evil. –WC
“Magic Mike XXL” (2015)
From a marketing standpoint, Steven Soderbergh’s 2012 dramedy “Magic Mike” prided itself on being a fun, sexy time at the movies featuring good-looking guys in little-to-no clothing. While the engrossing, Channing Tatum-led film indeed had stripping galore, it was overall a dour, hard-hitting look at the recession and its fallout. Suffice to say, as good as it was, “Magic Mike” wasn’t exactly what all audiences were expecting. But when it came time for the sequel, “Magic Mike XXL,” all those lofty ambitions fell away like so much discarded clothing. It was just a road trip flick, baby, and it was all about good times and good feelings with good-looking gents. What more do you need? “XXL” didn’t break the box office, but those few who opted to buy a ticket to the big show found themselves confronted with a gleeful, sex-positive romp. There was no tangled plot, no need to drive any particular message home. It was just about the beefy, strapping men stripping down and providing lots of low-stakes pleasure and high sexual gratification. As a result, “Magic Mike XXL” marks one of the breeziest, most lackadaisical movie-going experiences in recent studio movie history. The movie is built less on a plot than it is on a series of set pieces across this great nation where our handsome, scantily-clad men strut their stuff. The result is a delightfully silly, amusingly loose and surprisingly sweet film about the ever-present need to give love and good vibes to the masses — particularly in these desperate times.. –Will Ashton
“The Master” (2012)
Paul Thomas Anderson’s “The Master” constantly dances between civility and barbarism via its two male leads, Joaquin Phoenix’s perverse photographer Freddie Quill and Philip Seymour Hoffman’s self-aggrandizing, self-proclaimed philosopher Lancaster Dodd. During the rise of a dubious religion, there is an inherent struggle between these conflicting personalities — one a child-like rapscallion prone to act out of instinctual need and one a prideful, well-educated doctor who finds himself attracted to his rash contemporary. It is not a battle of wits but a tug-of-war between decency and indecency, thought and feeling. While there are some folks who might see a father-son dynamic between our morally-adrift protagonists, there is also something psychosexual about the relationship between Freddie and Lancaster — even if they never make love or even lock lips. There’s a strange, unkempt tenderness between these two men, an electric interconnection that is deeply human, one that requires Freddie to act out of purpose while Lancaster tries to reconnect with his more primal desires. Due to their era and the social practices found therein, neither character – no matter how well-spoken he is – can truly seem to express his longing to the other. The result is a compellingly atypical sexual friction, one that is hard to pinpoint but impossible to ignore. Freddie’s direct horniness mixed with Lancester’s more dressed-down orthodox demeanor presents a clash unexpectedly filled with sexual frustration. “The Master” is not especially romantic by design, but a lingering sense of melancholy nevertheless blooms as these two men fail to express their feelings for one another – particularly towards the film’s finale. The film may be called “The Master,” but which man rules their domain remains unclear. –WA
“Men & Chicken” (2015)
Mads Mikkelsen has broken out big into the mainstream this decade, with turns in “Doctor Strange,” “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story,” and NBC’s “Hannibal” – all of which have also built up his cache as a sex symbol. But those who discovered him through these titles are probably unaware that he starred in a Danish dark comedy where he played a loner with a cleft lip who chronically masturbates. Wait, where’s everyone going? Come back! Hear me out. Anders Thomas Jensen’s twisted fairy tale hinges on a demented turn that won’t be spoiled here, but Mikkelsen – along with a terrific ensemble who play a group of estranged half-brothers with their own set of quirks – is outstanding as a repressed man who never quite learned how to communicate his sexual desires properly. He ends up in a series of hornt-up encounters that are equal parts hilarious and sad. It would be easy to poke fun at the depravity on display here, but there’s a humanizing quality (again, no spoilers) that makes “Men & Chicken” a fascinating balancing act. –RO
“Midsommar” (2019)
There’s a story floating around the internet that when Ari Aster was four years old, he was at the theatre watching “Dick Tracy” and, during the scene where a Tommy gun is fired, he jumped from his seat and ran out of the auditorium in fear. I tell you this story because to me, it seems ironic that the child that was afraid of a gunshot in a film would grow up to be one of the great horror directors of the decade. Aster’s 2018 debut “Hereditary” was critically acclaimed, so when “Midsommar” hit screens this July, crowds flocked to the theatre. But I don’t think they were expecting what they received. The film follows a group of graduate students who take a trip to a Swedish community named Harga for a festival. Though the main characters do start to get stereotypically plucked off one-by-one like in any horror movie, this film is riddled with subtext and horny imagery. Breakups! Drinking period blood! Eating pubes! A massive orgy scene where Christian (Jack Reynor) is coaxed into a love ritual performed in front of a chorus of naked women that is meant to bind him to a specific young woman for conception and procreation! This film is fucked up in all the best ways. –JR
“Nymphomaniac, Vol. I and II”
Just because it’s icky and problematic and maybe a little awful doesn’t mean the X-rated “Nymphomaniac, Vol. I and II” isn’t horny. In fact, one can argue that taboo-busting iconoclast Lars Von Trier is one of the horniest filmmakers alive, and perhaps that kind of existential frustration has derailed his personal life and led him to the sad cry for help that was “The House That Jack Built” (that’s another story unto itself). Told in flashback, the NC-17-smashing ‘Volume I’ and ‘II’ centers on an abused woman (Charlotte Gainsbourg) who tells the story of her libidinous life to the stranger and fly fishing-obsessive (Stellan Skarsgård) who has found her left for dead in an alley. Esoteric and abstruse as it is horny, Von Trier’s movies often feel like a long-winded dirty joke and intellectual masturbation exercise—presumably part of the point. Some of it is transgressive, some of it actually hot, some of it sad, abusive, kinda sick and as perverted and complicated as you’d expect from the Danish imp filmmaker. It’s a film that cleaves the audience in half, funny and stimulating, sometimes revolting and reprehensible, but it’s undeniably horny, masochistic, and bold in the way it unapologetically confronts the aggressive sexual desire of its female lead. At the very least, it gave us another unflinching, tour de force Charlotte Gainsbourg performance and introduced us all to the impossibly compelling Stacy Martin. – RP
“Pacific Rim” (2013)
If every CGI-fueled Hollywood blowout was “Pacific Rim,” the world would be a better place. Alas, there just isn’t enough Guillermo del Toro to go around. This robot vs. kaiju homage to Japanese monster films is aesthetically delightful for its deft recreation of the genre, as well as for its cast of incomparable smoke shows. Like most apocalypse movies, “Pacific Rim” is brimming with hot people resolving their complicated, sexy feelings for one another, but unlike most apocalyptic movies, “Pacific Rim” lingers more on the female gaze. The skillful Mako (Rinko Kikuchi) bests her new sparring partner, Raleigh (walking abdominal muscle Charlie Hunnam), then ogles him in secret. Raleigh meanwhile has chemistry with basically everyone, including Herc (Max Martini), the equally hunky dude who hates his guts. There are also those two scientists (Charlie Day and Burn Gorman) who won’t stop bickering like a married couple. Throw Idris Elba into the mix, and it’s hard to recall the overall plot of this movie. Something something canceling the apocalypse? Whatever. I’ve seen it at least five times. –LW
“Personal Shopper” (2016)
Grief manifests itself into many other feelings: guilt, anger, sadness, and yes, even horniness. In Olivier Assayas’ beautiful horror-drama, Maureen (Kristen Stewart), a personal shopper in Paris for a wealthy model and a part-time medium, is mourning the loss of her twin brother with whom she shares a heart condition, and she will not leave until she makes contact with him. She begins to receive mysterious text messages that she believes could be from him. Whether or not they are, they start to help her heal, and the peace of mind these messages provides allows her to live her life more vividly. In one notable scene, Maureen tries on her employer’s clothes and masturbates on her bed. Having denied herself pleasure of any kind for so long, Maureen’s catharsis builds and explodes in this joyful, horny scene. It offers an important lesson for when you’re feeling down: When in doubt, rub one out. –RO
“Phantom Thread”
What is love if not an ambush, a special agent sent to ruin your everyday existence once it has successfully insinuated itself into your life? Paul Thomas Anderson’s impossibly romantic, gorgeously horny, terribly astute meditation on the poison that is love is one of the sharpest meditations on the mysterious alchemy of working relationships, and the delicate give and take nature necessary in marriage and union. An unbearable dressmaker (Daniel Day-Lewis) meets a delicate, deceptively cunning flower (Vicky Krieps). She is his equal, he just doesn’t know it yet. What ensures is an elaborate exotic mating ritual of dominance and control, a tug of war of chic gowns, and fashionable coats and clothes taken on and off and the little secrets sewn within them. Throughout, there is a fated, destined attraction and magnetism between the two lovers seemingly inexorably willed together by chance. And nothing is hornier (and sexier) than giving yourself over to someone, letting them poison you, so they can kiss you, render you ill and weak, and have total unfuckable power over you. – RP
