‘One Night Only’ Review: Romance Meets Puritan Dystopia

The lightness of tone is generally something to be appreciated, in movies and in just about every other aspect of life. What’s curious about One Night Only is the way that lightness is used to talk about something that is, essentially, quite macabre. It is, for the most part, a fairly conventional romantic comedy, but it starts from an unusual premise. In this fictional universe, the U.S. government (we’re never told exactly what kind of government it is, although some characters describe it as “fascist”) has banned sex between single people as a supposed way—never very clearly explained—of encouraging marriage. Through an elaborate technological surveillance system, the government uses the police to prevent people from having sex unless they are married, and apparently much of the population simply goes on with its life as if this weren’t particularly significant.

That, in itself, is a strikingly lighthearted way of dealing with something that is, to put it mildly, rather serious. There isn’t a hint of rebellion, disorder or any attempt to overturn a measure that has been in place for barely three years. Single people, it seems, have simply gotten used to going without sex for most of the year and carry on as though nothing were wrong. Perhaps they tolerate it because of the exception to the rule that gives the film its title and drives its plot: for one night, sex with strangers is allowed. For twelve hours, people can sleep with whomever they want, as many times as they want. And the authorities stand by and let it happen. Until dawn, when everyone has to return to “normal.”

It is within this strange context that One Night Only unfolds, a comedy that, in almost every other respect, presents a contemporary New York that isn’t all that different from the real thing (apart, of course, from the cinematic charm with which romantic comedies tend to dress up the city). The strangest part is that, when the story begins—just a few hours before the “allowed” period—everyone is desperate to have sex. People are making plans, dressing seductively, openly checking each other out, and taking advantage of an entire ad hoc industry devoted to the occasion. This is sex night for everyone, and that’s how the city experiences it.

Enter Owen (Callum Turner), the owner of a Manhattan pizzeria, who meets up with his girlfriend, Malika (Maya Hawke), for dinner, already having a plan for the night—one he has devised himself. But she has decided to take advantage of the sexual free-for-all and sleep with other people, sending Owen’s world crashing down. With no plans and perhaps no girlfriend in his future, he ends up going back to his mother’s house (Molly Ringwald), only to discover that she has plans of her own for the night. Allie (Monica Barbaro) is a jingle singer who is also left alone when her friend and designated companion for the evening finds a partner almost immediately. She, too, considers going home, but another friend (a lesbian who points out that she doesn’t need this particular night to cheat the system) insists that she go out alone and find someone. There is certainly no shortage of men roaming the streets looking for women. But a citywide state of sexual desperation can be problematic.

And then what has to happen, happens. Owen and Allie keep bumping into each other on the streets of New York, but, following the rules of the romantic-comedy playbook, they either fail to notice each other, have another potential romantic interest in sight, or find themselves temporarily at odds for one reason or another. And so it goes. What’s curious about One Night Only is that it contains no sex scenes or nudity and, beyond a general air of lustfulness, skimpy outfits (mostly for the women) and a few furtive kisses, it turns out to be a lot of noise and very little action. That’s not the only strange thing about the premise, either. One could argue that, judging by the characters’ behavior and the logic of the story, the screenplay ultimately seems to suggest that perhaps this government-enforced control over sex between single people is not such a bad idea after all.

Nobody ever says this outright, but the logic of the film—which, in classic fashion, draws a clear distinction between love and sex, or, put another way, between sex with and without love—ends up being almost as puritanical as the rules that provide its central plot device. What the screenplay seems to be proposing, much like the fascist government of this fictional world, is that perhaps people should only have sex with those they know they will love “until death do us part.” Anything else is apparently meaningless and without value.

Beyond that, One Night Only has two charming leads who have a certain chemistry, as well as a supporting cast filled with familiar faces (some appearing in brief cameos) who provide a handful of reasonably funny moments. In its use of time and space—and in some of the situations its protagonists find themselves in—the film from the director of Anyone but You bears some resemblance to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours, another New York movie that makes distinctive use of recognizable locations. But the comparison ends there. Gluck’s film ultimately becomes somewhat suffocated by its own premise, working far too hard to make its central “concept” function. And it almost never does.

Perhaps that is the main reason why whatever charm One Night Only occasionally manages to summon gradually dissipates. The screenplay gets itself into too many knots, ultimately—perhaps inadvertently—embracing the “no sex without love” philosophy embodied by the fascistic law at the heart of its fictional government. And in the ideological mess it creates for itself, nobody comes out looking particularly good. It is true that romantic comedies almost by definition place romantic love at the center as the solution to everything. But going from there to suggesting marriage or celibacy for 364 days a year in a world run by the people from The Handmaid’s Tale, is an enormous leap. Gluck’s movie simply forgets to deal with its biggest problem.