ONE NIGHT ONLY’s Sex Purge Arouses Nothing

Will Gluck’s ONE NIGHT ONLY accidentally captures an undeniable truth about living under fascism: The average person just doesn’t care that much. The story begins three years into a regime that has decreed Americans can only have premarital sex on one night per year. Folks have biotrackers in their bodies to ensure that they do not transgress. Yet, aside from graffiti artists and a few protestors silently holding signs, the inhabitants of Gluck’s New York are acting as though nothing has changed. This draconian law has been accepted as a Halloween-style holiday where adults can act like teenagers. Some have even embraced it as a genuinely positive way to make a romantic connection. Anything to get off those dating apps, right? Gluck is more than happy to fit in with the docile. He approaches this disturbing story with an identically lighthearted cadence to ANYONE BUT YOU and EASY A. This is a chemistry test for two up-and-coming actors just like any other splashy late-summer romcom. It is the type of film that the in-world powers would have to release in order to pacify the populace into accepting what they’ve done to them.

We follow commercial jingle singer Allie (Monica Barbaro) and pizza-shop owner Owen (Callum Turner) as they take part in the night’s festivities. Owen’s girlfriend, Malika (Maya Hawke), has decided to experiment with another man (boring!) and breaks the news to him at the restaurant where Owen was planning to propose. Allie just doesn’t think she’s going to catch anyone of note and quickly finds herself ditched by Jacinta (King Princess) to fend for herself. Sure enough, Owen and Allie continue to run into each other as the botched attempts to sleep with a rando continue to pile up. Perhaps this is a sign from our lord and savior Jesus Christ that these two are meant to be. 

Gluck has spoken about how much nudity and actual on-screen sex was cut from this film due to prudish test audiences. His world-building bleeds out from this cowardice. ONE NIGHT ONLY has no interest in portraying sex as a rebellious or even passionate act. The dry-humping extras act as though their almond mom has finally allowed them to eat half of a chocolate bar. Nobody is doing anything too transgressive in public; mostly casual makeouts. Everybody seems to be en route to the bedroom, the place where anything too unsightly should stay. Gluck attempts to score an easy “Yas Queen!” early on when Allie’s queer roommate Arya (Quintessa Swindell, spending all of her screentime getting sexually harassed by a gross 12-year-old boy) mentions that queer people have been going around society’s laws for decades. However, when we catch a glimpse of them out in the wild, they seem to be minding the rules just as much as the straights. If this situation were real, some people would be pushing the limits of what could be done outdoors to either make a statement or release their carnal urges in a way that could satisfy for 364 more days. ONE NIGHT ONLY proposes that obedience would and should be the norm. 

This might be forgivable if our leading duo had delicious sexual tension between them. Instead, Gluck has brought us the most tepid pairing of his career. Monica Barbaro is a delight. The exact kind of plucky, vibrant screen presence that could have a long career in this genre. However, here she’s stuck babysitting Callum Turner, one of the most nightmarishly dull “leading men” I’ve been forced to endure in my years of watching films. There is absolutely nothing going on behind those eyes. Turner speaks in a confused monotone that often sounds like he’s reading cue cards from a script that he does not understand. When he and Barbaro are supposed to be engaging in a snappy back-and-forth, his lifelessness makes you wonder why she doesn’t just sprint away. The film endlessly has people point out how sexy he is, and although I couldn’t disagree more, that is obviously subjective. However, it is clear that this is a guy who has coasted through life on looks, which hopefully means that the end of his shelf life is fast approaching. It is genuinely painful and mildly offensive to endure how little he brings to the table. 

ONE NIGHT ONLY isn’t entirely painful to watch. Gluck can direct a romcom in his sleep and he keeps this moving at a snappy pace. There are shenanigans, goofy cameos, and a handful of sharp one-liners to keep you smiling. It is so committed to downplaying the despair of its premise that it often succeeds in sweeping you up. In fact, if Turner wasn’t clogging up the works, I’d even be willing to bet that this would outright work despite itself. However, it ultimately sputters to a close. The characters proclaim that they “aren’t going to let the mandate win” only to—in the same breath—allow it to entirely dictate how they move through what is allegedly the most electric moment of their lives. True commitment brought to you by a little Christian terrorism. 

I’m someone who has often clamored for the return of the “normal movie.” We are inundated with films that are aggressive in their content and tone. All of our auteurs want to make loud battle films that can fill an entire IMAX screen. We don’t have a millennial Howard Hawks or a Nancy Meyers that could turn a more grounded, heartwarming story into an event. Gluck is one of a handful of filmmakers willing to commit to the romcom on a theatrical level and I commend him for that. However, ONE NIGHT ONLY is a story that demands intensity, sexual or otherwise. This could’ve been a mainstream romance that invites the audience to experience equivalent desire to our characters and anger towards the forces who prevent them from acting on it. Instead, the only conversation ONE NIGHT ONLY will provoke is, “So … should we get drinks at Yard House or Finney’s afterwards?”