Let's Talk About Sex
Rating -

Docu-Comedy (US); 1998; Rated R; 82 Minutes

Troy Beyer: Jazz
Paget Brewster: Michelle
Randy Ingerman: Lena
Joseph C. Phillips: Michael
Michaline Babich: Morgan
Tina Nguyen: Drew

Produced by Susan Ainsworth, Sara King, Deborah Ridpath and Gary Sales; Directed and screenwritten by Troy Beyer

Review Uploaded

Written by DAVID KEYES

First thing's first:

"Let's Talk About Sex" is the worst movie of 1998. It is the worst movie of the decade. It is the worst movie ever. There will not be a film as bad as it this year. There will not be a film as bad as it in the next five years. There will likely not be a film worse than it in the next half century.

It's not humanly possible. It's one of those events, like an eclipse, that only occurs once each century. I imagine that we will get even worse films eventually, but probably not during my lifetime. If there are any more during my career as a film critic, I shall consider retirement.

Troy Beyer's "Let's Talk About Sex" is so horrid and so morally reprehensible that it's unbelievable. It could not make women and men look more ridiculous even if the plot had dressed them up in diapers and clown makeup. Never before has such crude and offensive material been laid upon human eyes in a respectable theater. If I had the chance, I'd lock up every person in this world who enjoyed it. Those who will enjoy this movie are most likely mentally confused, because judging from audience reactions, neither sane men nor women will appreciate two seconds of it.

If aliens saw the movie, they'd think the human race was some sort of sick experiment gone horribly wrong. They'd want to destroy us and inherit the Earth. No, really: they would. That's how bad the movie is. It is the ultimate bad movie: one where even humans who enjoyed "Dazed And Confused" will not appreciate it. If this offends you, I'm sorry, but what is a film critic supposed to do? Praise how it compares human sexuality to the eating habits of an average American horse with a bad cold? I think not.

When I saw it opening weekend, not only was the crowd mostly women, but mostly women who obviously knew nothing about correctly applying their makeup. Half the women who sat in the front had eye shadow like Marilyn Manson, and wore clothes that would make Cher weep. And what a surprise! Half of them were gone 40 minutes into the movie. The men who attended (I think there were maybe six total including myself) were all gone just fifteen minutes into it. The women who remained were either looking for redeeming value or a chance to see how bad it would actually get. I really doubt that anyone in the audience found anything humane or tasteful about it, whether it involved female or male portraits.

The movie is this--an "intelligent" woman named Jazz decides, after listening in on inaccurate "sex-talk" to start her own radio show for sex-talk with women as the talkers, for a change. In order to do this, however, she has to interview people that would be able to handle all of this on live radio. She video tapes all of this interviewing in what has been called actual documentary footage, but I seriously doubt that any woman would get in front of a camera and demonstrate such contemptible and morally deficient human characteristics. They are disgusting and rude beyond comprehension. First, the women are asked about the men in their lives, and always the response is insulting to them. Men, according to the women, can never satisfy a woman properly in the bedroom. Later on in the interviews, they are asked to demonstrate their special talents on camera, which are so disgusting that they make the rape scenes of "I Spit On Your Grave" seem almost respectable.

It is so disgusting that I, for the first time, actually felt urges to get up and leave the theater. But I didn'tI stuck it out to the very last frame, and walked away the most angry person in the theater. Most of the others were appalled as well, but they seemed more stunned than angry.

You may not necessarily listen to film critic opinions often, but I'm warning you down to my last breath with this one--see it, enjoy it, and my respect for you as a human being will decrease about 99 percent.

1998, David Keyes, Cinemaphile.org. Please e-mail the author here if the above review contains any spelling or grammar mistakes.
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