One Night Only’s chemistry is too inconsistent; its world and dialogue are not clever enough to embody sex without the sex.
Written by Eva Mohácsy
One Night Only establishes its absurd premise (which has become Twitter’s favorite punchline) from the get-go. In a speculative hyper-fascist America, premarital sex is illegal and has been for three years. The only exception is 12 hours on August 7th, with no explanation as to why this day, except that it shares the date with the movie’s theatrical release, so I’m assuming marketing for audience immersion. Oh, and everybody has biosensor tattoos that alert the proper authorities if they break the chastity mandate. "It’s been a lot," as the opening crawl puts it dryly, but nobody cares in any way that matters; not the characters, not the script written by Travis Braun, and least of all director-producer Will Gluck, who stated regarding the premise, "It’s like all things political; no one remembers why." Bleak, but maybe not a totally inaccurate reflection of where we’re at.
The movie takes that same path of least resistance: forget "how" or "why" — all that matters is that the designated hotties, Allie (Monica Barbaro) and Owen (Callum Turner), get together. In doing so, the movie holds up a frightening mirror. I think it’s safe to say the average American thinks about themselves — including their romantic and sexual lives — more than the political and economic states of the world. And when we aren’t thinking of ourselves, we’re most likely thinking of friends, community, or, more troublingly, that random hot person’s life on the internet. If we don’t see ourselves in Owen and Allie, then they might represent the obsession with the curated, charmed city life that’s become so ubiquitous online.
Queerness remains unexamined; it’s implied via dialogue that gays have been getting around the mandate, but since the world’s not expanded on beyond the immediate characters, a lot must be inferred. But it is in bad taste that, in this hypothetical society, straight people are punished for sex over queer people, which has historically never been the case. Not asking for more, ultimately accepting the problematic, deep-seated individualism and superficial world as a coping mechanism is key if you want to enjoy the movie at all.
There is one scene where we see a glint of rebellious spirit; a group of young people chants "Fuck the mandate" at a party. Beyond that, there are some hints of ongoing protests and "Repeal" movements in the background. But it’s just that, speech and signage. However, it’s difficult to condemn these characters who naturally focus on what they have, at least an illusion of control over. The movie doesn’t posit that these characters believe they have tools or access to create change on a larger scale, so the politics wash over them, and they accept the new normal as quickly as they forget what might have led up to it.
One Night Only shares the issues of satire in general; it’s easy to point out problems and bask in the cynicism, but it requires a lot more thought to then pose potential solutions. For example, Allie’s frustration with signing commercial pharmaceutical jingles is a constant part of her character, but she never quits her job or tries to make that change in her life. There’s no character development in terms of their perspective or place in the world. Though this general lack feels in tune with the established setting, my major gripe is that all the romantic-comedy beats we’re supposed to care about in place of deeper world-building are completely uninspired.
The meet-cute is literal vomit, which I don’t love but understand why they would part ways after that. The fight over the last condom is a good physical comedy bit, but in their meetings afterwards they harp on reasons to dislike each other that don’t make any sense. Everybody wants enemies-to-lovers, but nobody wants to put in the work for it. The so-called zingers they throw at each other never hit — like when Owen tells Allie that her legs "don’t make sense." What does that even mean? This might be the point — because eventually Allie admits that it’s the buildup she likes best about sex. Subconsciously, this whole bickering thing might be a form of purposeful delayed gratification. Most rom-coms employ this, but that doesn’t mean that their stated reasonings for doing so should be completely see-through.
The first note I wrote down after watching the movie was "a response to Gen Z: there’s too much sex in movies," so to have this confirmed by Gluck so directly when writing the review was satisfying. As an Old Hollywood fan, I don’t inherently mind a lack of sex in a movie (but to be clear, I’m not advocating for it either); the movie premise initially piqued my interest because its world felt like if the Production Code manifested in real life, at least for 364 days of the year. Sometimes we find there’s more creativity within restriction, but that is not the case here. The lack of sex does not have to mean a lack of sexiness— and ultimately, One Night Only’s chemistry is too inconsistent; its world and dialogue are not clever enough to embody sex without the sex.
One Night Only is now playing in theatres.
Comments
Post a Comment