Tuesday, November 03, 2026
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Did you vote today? Good! Your job is done. While some people may elect to doomscroll and anxiously await the results all night, let me suggest a much more relaxing alternative: Netflix. There’s nothing more opposite voting projections than the streamer’s selection of sexy, romantic films. Take your mind off the midterms and slip into something a little more comfortable with one of the films below. —Josh Rosenberg, editor, news & entertainment
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Close the curtains and turn out the lights. It’s movie time.
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I know why you’re here. I can’t prove it, admittedly. But I know you’ve been Google-searching “sex movies” or “sexy movies.” I’m not judging. Maybe you’re in a particular and peculiar mood and you’re looking to watch something bold but with substance. There’s a reason erotic thrillers were huge not so long ago; we’re all yearners deep down, and a good movie that oozes sex appeal strips our innermost desires completely bare.
While erotic thrillers have woefully vanished from theaters, streaming platforms have given the genre brand-new life. Netflix, still one of the biggest streamers today, has quite the selection of movies you can watch in the merciful privacy of your living room. And because Hollywood stopped making erotic thrillers like they used to, international markets like France, Germany, Spain, and Korea have stepped up to give closet horn dogs their fix for hot stuff. We might speak different languages, but feeling good is a universal pleasure.
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It was the first weekend in June, and I was sitting on a bench in the yard with Robert Lee Williams, who has long dreadlocks and a face with sharp features, almost too pretty for prison. He used to be a Blood, now he's looking to be a freelance prison journalist like me. He had recently published his first piece, about losing his friend in prison to a drug overdose, in the Prison Journalism Project. He hung his head, gloomy about the news of the new directive: the New York state prison system, with one stroke of a bureaucratic pen, had instituted an approvals process for creative work — paintings, poetry, feature journalism — so laborious that it would deter the most creative minds in New York prisons.
It had been about a month since, in May 2023, the New York State Department of Corrections and Community Supervision surfaced this oddly titled "Creative Arts Projects" directive. When a New York Focus reporter asked me about it, I hadn't seen the directive, hadn't known it existed. But apparently, we were now required to send officials our work for approval before submitting it to editors, and even publications were required to ask permission to publish us. There were restrictions, too: no sexual or gang-related materials; any proceeds had to go to a nonprofit for victims; no negative portrayals of "law enforcement officers or DOCCS in a manner which could jeopardize safety or security” allowed; and no depictions of our crimes.
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It is a decade now since the president came down the golden escalator and the country went straight to hell. All we’ve done as citizens of a self-governing democratic republic is squabble over the seating in the handbasket. Until Tuesday. Tuesday was nut-cutting time. Tuesday felt—probably rightly—like the beginning of an extended last chance that the country will have to spend every waking hour pursuing.
Just on Monday, the president closed out his demented road show with a weird address in front of one of his administration’s most conspicuous blunders: the Reflecting Pool. Meanwhile, the Supreme Court, with his carefully manufactured conservative majority, gave the boot to his latest attempt to ratfck the California elections, and the court did so without even a hint of an explanation. Then the president capped a rich, full day by bombing an Iranian island in the Persian Gulf, although I guess he went a little bananas on his little boutique website.
Mama said there’d be days like this. But she never said there’d be so many. And all the rest of them are on us.
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