Psychosexual horror comedy featuring tentacle sex and a satirical sledgehammer to therapy culture is a hard sell anywhere. For something like that to work, you’ve got to be all in on the vibes. If not, the whole thing crumbles and becomes an insufferable sit, the hyper stylized execution more annoying than engaging. Touch Me is very much a vibes pick, a film that rewards its viewers for being all in on its absurdity but is hard pressed to bring naysayers over to the sexy side. It probably says more about me than the film, but I was kind of all in on the vibes of Touch Me, an ambitious, sexually charged horror satire that may not get everything right but is easily carried by its own winking and self aware understanding.

Written and directed by Addison Heiman, Touch Me follows two co-dependent and borderline narcissist roommates who are forced to flee their home after a plumbing issue makes the whole house smell like poo. I’m not even halfway through this synopsis and I’m sure you can already tell how much the vibes are needed to stick around. They are saved when one of their exes Brian invites them to spend the weekend with him at his gorgeous, secluded compound. Brian offers his services – methods involving meditation and touch – that can literally cure depression and heal past traumas.

Of course, Brian is a narcissistic alien who may or may not be here on earth to take over and destroy the world. The roommates are forced to decide how far they’ll go for their own happiness, and how much they’re willing to sacrifice to feel the addictive alien touch one more time.

Immaculate Vibes and Heavy Japanese Influences

Heiman really goes for it all in Touch Me, approaching the bizarre sexual sci-fi material as if rules and restrictions don’t exist. It often loses its way as the events unfolds, Heiman clearly loaded with ideas and desperate to get them all onto the screen. But its style is enough to carry it past some of its substance weaknesses, and while it may try to say too much it at least has a lot to say. Touch Me sports some heavy Japanese cinema influences, its color grading shaded in vibrant neon blues and purples and design meant to invoke an iconic Japanese style.

It’s so pretty to look at and just weird enough to not worry too much about what it’s lacking. Touch Me often glosses over some of the more impactful ideas about trauma, anxiety and therapy culture and trades out deeper introspection for visual flare and a more satirical, sexual approach.

Lou Taylor Pucci is hilarious as the alien Brian. A full blown narcissist who embodies everything you hate about tech bros, influencers and anyone else who falls into that category. He abuses therapy culture and language to manipulate his pupils or victims as his true intentions become revealed, and wields his tentacle touch as a weapon of addiction. Pucci is having a blast being essentially the worst person you’ve ever met and an amalgamation of the most toxic ex you’ve ever had. Olivia Taylor Dudley as Joey is giving quite the performance, more than the character often deserves if we’re being honest. Touch Me opens with a long, uninterrupted monologue from Dudley, and it’s quite an excellent voice over and example of her talents. It more than sets the tone and again, becomes a litmus test of the immaculate vibes you’re all in or completely turned off by.

What Are You Willing to Sacrifice to Feel Good?

Touch Me is often found meandering between the more humorous scenes of Joey and Craig competing for Brian’s affection, the tentacle sex scenes which are surprisingly unadulterated ecstasy without traveling into uncomfortable tentacle porn territory. Make no mistake: that exists in this film. But it’s framed with a bit more care than outright exploitation and conveys more purpose beyond sex for sex’s sake.

When it’s not pushing boundaries, it has a tendency to spin its wheels. But when it dives in head first to its own bold absurdity, you begin to understand the allure of sexual awakening and healing, and can see the dangers of addiction, enablement and gaslighting. Touch Me asks us what and who are you willing to sacrifice to feel good? To be happy even if that happiness sets forth the worst possible scenarios? It asks these questions with exciting cinematic language and Heiman’s tongue firmly planted in her cheek.

it’s not quite as irreverent as it could be, and I can’t in good faith recommend Touch Me to everyone. But if you can dial into the wavelengths and let the stylish sight waft over you, you’ll be treated to a vibe-heavy sci-fi hidden gem with some insightful commentary on our self-absorbed culture and toxic partnerships. It’s horny as hell and even more bloody than you could possibly expect, and it’s refreshing to see something so bold and bizarre be so unique and surprising.

Touch Me is the kind of film you kind of question if you should be watching but can’t look away once it locks you in. It keeps you guessing and keeps you intrigued, and even if you feel yourself wanting to get off the ride you’ll find yourself unable to get off (no pun intended) until the final frame.

Word of advice: don’t watch Touch Me with your parents. Just, trust me on this one.

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