Iconic 90s films such as Pretty Woman (1990) and Basic Instinct (1992) are just two examples of films that attempt to break down the ridged structures of female sexuality, though, naturally, they fail to do so. The infamous scenes of Julia Robert’s zipping up her knee-high leather boots or Sharon Stone seductively crossing her legs during an interrogation might have seemed like empowering moments for women in film at the time, though from a modern lens reinforce objectifying stereotypes of female sexuality.
The fact that these films respectively solidified Julia Roberts and Sharon Stone as 90s ‘Sex Symbols’ only emphasises this, as it is evident that they were constructed by horny men for horny men. If you want to see a genuinely empowering film directed by a man from the 1990s, watch Ridley Scott’s Thelma and Louise (1991), which focuses on the reclamation of female sexuality outside of the male gaze!
Thirty years have passed, and female sexuality in film has started to shift away from the age-old misogynies of ‘Bond Girls’ and Baywatch. We might watch the famous Megan Fox scene in Transformers (2007) and squirm at the blatant sexualisation of a young actress, instead of passively accepting or even enjoying it.
Recent films such as Sean Baker’s Anora (2024) and Ti West’s X series (2022-2024) demonstrate a more nuanced and empowering exploration of female sexuality, representing women less as objects of sexual desire and more as individuals exploring their sexual autonomy. Anora is a great example of this, as the main character, Ani, is a sex worker (just like the character Vivian in Pretty Woman), but instead of being framed as a sexual object, she is represented as a confident and vivacious entrepreneur (for lack of a better word). Ani recognises her position within the male gaze, but generally harnesses it for her own benefit without shame, maintaining agency over where, when and with whom she has sex with.
The difference between Ani from Anora and Vivian from Pretty Woman lies in the power dynamics of their relationships. Ani has power in her relationship with Vanya, who is rich but also young and naïve. Contrastingly, Vivian exercises certain amounts of autonomy and sets boundaries throughout the film, but ultimately exists within the pocket of a much older-business man, who holds more power. Though both relationships are nuanced, the representation of the male love interest appears to draw the line between sexually empowering or devaluing women.
Another progression in female sexuality in film can be seen in recent releases such as Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy (2025) and Babygirl (2024), where older women are intimately involved with younger men. This flips traditional 'power' representations on their heads, exploring the opposite side of the narrative, where mature and powerful women are depicted as desirable, sexual agents. Though it could be seen to replace one trope with another, it is nice to finally see this subverted power dynamic play out on screen.
There is a similar exploration of sexual identity in older women in Coralie Fargeat's sensational horror film The Substance (2024). The film focuses intensely on the physical, with the female body being the main focus of the narrative. Margaret Qualley's character is overtly sexualised but in a very intentional way to generate a discourse on the societal pressures of body image, specifically the attitudes towards the ageing female body. The Substance is a very clever and significant commentary on female sexuality, and the fact it was written and directed by a woman makes it all the more impactful!
In conclusion, while female sexuality has regularly been represented in film, it seems that it has only recently existed to empower women and generate important conversations, instead of existing for the male gaze. It's been amazing to witness the recent shift in the representations of female sexuality in film, and we can only hope that things continue this way.