If you read my reviews (and I don’t know why you would; they’re mostly blow-hardy nonsense), you’ll notice I credit well-crafted fight sequences with real merit.
I genuinely believe masterfully choreographed battles carry narrative weight. If you want to spin it negatively, call it “delighting in death.”
Why do I believe that?
Two reasons:
- I can name two credible books on writing that argue violence belongs in storytelling—especially for male audiences.
- Show me a guy who doesn’t enjoy the gunfight in The Matrix or the Neo vs. infinite Agent Smiths scene in The Matrix Reloaded—or even the bar fight in The Replacements—and I’ll lose another potential friend.
I apply the same standard to sexual content as I do to violence.
And as strenuous as it may be, I’ve got to be fair to this film: it doesn’t deserve the stigma that’s followed it.
What stigma?
When I told a college buddy—one who knows his movies—that I watched Mulholland Drive, his text back read: “Second best lesbian scene to Wild Things.”
The scene she (thought that was a guy, didn’t you?) meant is the now-famous threesome between Denise Richards, Neve Campbell, and Matt Dillon.
Sure, it’s fun to watch. But wow, do people overhype it.
This isn’t a porno, Proverbial Audience.
Yes, Richards shows skin in most scenes, but that doesn’t weaken her performance as Kelly Van Ryan. She’s great here—just like she was in Starship Troopers.
Does Richards lose credit for being super hot? People rarely mention her performance.
Maybe that’s because Kelly’s midriff appears in every outfit. But if you’re dinging the movie for that, you’re not reading my book.
Yes, the movie leans into sexual tension—but without it, I don’t think it works nearly as well.
What’s Body Heat without sexual tension? Or Fatal Attraction? Basic Instinct? Cruel Intentions? Anything Bond-related?
[Seriously—see those movies if you haven’t.]
Neve Campbell gives a strong performance. She leans hard into the contrarian angle, and maybe the frequent F-bombs push it a bit—but overall, she pulls off a tough role.
Kevin Bacon, per usual, shows up and delivers. He plays it reserved and thoughtful through most of the film, but toward the end, a little Diner-era chaos creeps into his character.
Even Bill Murray dials it back. Instead of doing his usual comedic shtick, he goes bare bones—quietly funny, understated, and surprisingly compelling.
Matt Dillon? He’s fine. He does what he can with a tricky character. Like Campbell’s role, there’s not much to improve—though I wish the script gave him more depth beyond “handsome smooth-talker.”
The movie gives off a general vibe: one where you sense that critics and fans alike quietly file it under “good” but never “great.”
Some small things do fall flat—like how easily the Van Ryan family seems to live above the law. But those are minor quibbles.
Honestly, I wish I’d seen Wild Things before I knew about the infamous scene. I think I would’ve enjoyed the whole thing more if I didn’t expect it to live or die by that one moment.
And you know what ends up being the best part of the movie? The scenes tucked into the rolling credits. They tie up the story’s loose ends—most of which the viewer doesn’t even realize are loose—and add a few final twists that actually work.
All in all, Wild Things is a very good film. It’s well constructed, the plot is intricate, and above all—it’s just fun. And hey, it’s on Netflix.
Movie fans! If you’ve skipped this one thinking the quality’s “ungood,” now’s the time to correct that.
There. You have my permission.
Check Wild Things off your list.
★★ ★★★ ★★
Briefer takes at IMDb & Letterboxd.
