Good Luck to You, Leo Grande (2022)

Score: 5 / 5

A chamber piece of the highest order, viewing this film is very much an exercise in theatrical immediacy. I would have paid out the nose to see this as a play, performed in the round -- or, provocatively, in thrust -- and frankly I hope that happens to the script. It deserves the kind of raw power live performance could give it. It's structured in, roughly, three acts, each an encounter between the two main characters and mostly in the same physical space (a hotel room). Live theatre would allow for a stunning and breathtaking breakdown of boundaries between audience and performance, to breathe the same air as these actors as they learn that the boundaries between their own minds and bodies should by no means be as strict as they've made them.

Good Luck to You, Leo Grande is one of those movies lately unceremoniously dropped in a streaming service (Hulu) that has very little hope of cultivating a wide audience, and yet it almost works better streaming than I think it would in wide theatrical release. And this from a professed cinema junkie! Between its subject matter, its filmed style, and its general premise, this is the kind of film that I think most people would want to see from the comfort of their homes. I think immediately of films like Last Chance Harvey and of course It's Complicated, but also of earlier films such as Pretty Woman in which sex is the primary narrative vehicle and who really wants to sit in a crowded auditorium to explore one's sexuality?

The first scene is the initial encounter between our two characters. Nancy (Emma Thompson) is an uptight school teacher -- religious education -- and fairly recent widow; now that her late husband is out of the way, she is feeling sexually curious and adventurous. She has never had an orgasm, she says early on, and her only partner has been her spouse, who literally only allowed missionary style ever and who never fulfilled her. As a result, she has finally hired a sex worker for the night. Enter Leo (Daryl McCormack), a handsome and sexually free young thing who enters her life eager to please her. We learn fairly early on that he's not a nymphomaniac or a player; he genuinely gets off on pleasing other people. He says he's never had a client he's been unattracted to, and while Nancy (and we) may not initially believe it, he delivers a monologue about halfway through this film that reveals his biggest kink: seeing others as their bodies relax in pleasure. So, with these two initially incompatible people, can a relationship work?

Of course, many will go into this movie expecting a rom-com. And in some ways, they are right. There are plenty of chuckles, giggles, and nervous guffaws as things get going. Ultimately, the first night isn't all it's cracked up to be, and they spend most of the time talking with each other. One might consider that Nancy at least is demisexual, as it is only after a lengthy conversation that she can finally relax enough to let Leo touch her intimately. He doesn't get her to orgasm -- it's implied that all they do is kiss and finger before sleeping -- but she's very happy about where this is going. An immature film would turn this into a love story between the two characters. This is not an immature film.

Their emotional attachment is paired beautifully by the chemistry of the two actors. I've rarely seen such erotic passion -- which is to say, realistic behavior of longing and hesitation -- between two people on screen in my life of watching movies. Nancy is perhaps a little too relatable to this viewer, constantly dredging up her self-loathing in witty retorts and vicious self-flagellation about her body, her career, her family. Leo is kind and patient, funny and sincere, and confident to a dangerous fault. Nancy could be his mother, and she knows it; he doesn't care, but he hints multiple times that his own relationship with his mother is off-limits. He has a job to do, after all.

Their engagement, so to speak, is the crux of the film. The first scene is their first night together. The second is their second, in which the wide-eyed Nancy has written a list (again, far too relatable) of exactly what she wants to experience sexually with him. The third is their third, in which it seems clear that she is looking for more than just sex -- though not necessarily with him -- and he refuses to cross that line, especially after learning she's been investigating him. Finally, they reconvene to settle their miscommunications and it turns into a passionate affair that they both peaceably determine to be their last tryst.

That's it. That's the plot. But it's far from the essence of the film, in which multitudes of emotional growth occur for the characters and for us, if we take the time and energy to invest in it. It's an actor's master class, to be sure, and it's also a directorial master class and a writerly master class. Rarely have we seen such emotionally intelligent and patient dialogue about the nature of sex, aging, intimacy, body positivity, or even for that matter career positivity, sex positivity, and even cross-generational intimacy. Leo isn't a magic worker, and some of the most potent bits of dialogue happen when his touch makes Nancy even more horrified and stressed about the situation; godlike as McCormack may be, a model can't just force someone to relax and enjoy their own body or experience. He needs to teach the teacher what pleasure really is, not just what it means.

Moreover, this film is, by the end, as much a character study as it is a manifesto lambasting the baggage we, culturally, attach to sex. It is, by far, the most sex-positive and pro-sex-work film I've ever seen. It's not sex that sucks joy and fulfillment and satisfaction out of our lives, but the baggage we carry after doing it. Or worse, before doing it, when it's only in our minds. This is a far cry from Pretty Woman or American Gigolo. This is reality, and it's beautiful as long as the people involved are professional and sensitive and kind. And then there's the film's final two shots. I can't and won't spoil them here, but I was a weeping, sobbing mess in the most joyful and self-actualizing way I've ever experienced in a film like this. What a fabulous message to send to any aging woman -- or anyone, really -- about feeling at home in your own skin. I absolutely had no idea where this film was going, and the ending was the most beautifully satisfying ending I couldn't have imagined. Brava!