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There is no kiss scene in the movie Twisters. A standalone sequel to the 1996 classic starring Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton, this modern adventure movie has a lot to offer. The action is thrilling, the characters are easy to root for, there’s a pleasant silliness – though this is sometimes hampered by a focus on the traumatic effects of tornados – and Maura Tierney is there, delightful as ever. One magnificent scene in the final act, in which the wall of a movie theater flies off, perfectly framing the storm outside where the screen once was, would’ve left early Soviet auteur Sergei Eisenstein utterly verklempt.

Though there’s plenty to celebrate about Twisters – its revival of the classic summer blockbuster, for one – much of the discourse about the film has centered on its missing kiss. One of the reasons for viewers’ outrage is that a video of stars Glen Powell and Daisy Edgar-Jones kissing on set was leaked before the movie premiered, leaving audiences expecting a climactic liplock. Even if you walk into the theater unaware of the leaked video, it’s obvious where the kiss would have been. (Though there’s an argument to be made for it occurring at an earlier point in the film.) On Twitter, fans have reported returning to the theater for repeat viewings, hoping against hope that a kiss will magically appear at their screening. 

In press for the film, Powell and Edgar-Jones revealed that Steven Spielberg, whose company Amblin Entertainment produced Twisters, was the one who suggested the kiss be cut from the film. “I think it stops the film feeling too clichéd, actually,” Edgar-Jones suggested in an interview. “I also think that this movie is not about them finding love,” Powell added, noting what the movie is “really” about is Kate (Edgar-Jones) rediscovering her passion for storm chasing. 

Contemplating this topic gave me a great excuse to revisit RS Benedict’s incisive essay from 2021, Everyone Is Beautiful, and No One Is Horny. Discussing the current state of action movies, and in particular, superhero movies, Benedict argues that actors’ bodies are more perfect than ever, but with that comes a turn away from physical intimacy and sexual chemistry. Hollywood’s obsession with perfection elides any sense of verisimilitude, which includes the relatable human experience of horniness. 

To be fair, Twisters doesn’t totally align with the kind of glossy, robotic strength Benedict points to in the essay. Powell and Edgar-Jones are both beautiful and appealing, yes, but the film doesn’t highlight their physical perfection as much as it does their easily-tracked character arcs and connection with the natural world (ie. tornados). And yes, there is a palpable spark between the two characters, in large part because Powell is eminently charming and seems to have instant chemistry with all of his women costars, Edgar-Jones included. (For a truly sexy time at the movies, check him out in Richard Linklater’s Hit Man.) He even has chemistry with Maura Tierney, who plays Kate’s mom and instantly out-acts everyone in the film with her meager ten minutes of screen time.

Glen Powell’s easy charm aside, what’s most interesting about this “controversy” is how it coalesces with the recent discourse about sex in cinema. “I feel like audiences are in a different place now in terms of wanting a kiss or not wanting a kiss,” director Lee Isaac Chung told Entertainment Weekly. Chung seems to be referring to contemporary debates about Gen Z audiences' distaste for sex in movies, especially what’s been called “unnecessary sex scenes” in movies. A perplexingly puritanical turn for the youth, this idea invokes the notion that sex on screen is synonymous with exploitation or objectification – a framework blamed on the climate of the so-called “post-Me Too” era. 

Brian Hurwitz, a Hollywood writer and lecturer a UCLA, suspects this growing trend has to do with the immediacy of sex due to technology. “In the ’80s, it was the only way they could get all the kids in the theater to see the slasher films, and all the kids couldn’t wait to watch these young women have sex and then die. But today, it’s five seconds away on any tween’s phone. What do they need it for?” He asks. Of course, this explanation ignores the fact that desire can be moving and beautiful and distinct from pure titillation (though the latter effect isn’t purely dishonorable, either). A sexy scene doesn’t have to move the plot forward – it can be there because it looks and feels good. 

Of course, there was never going to be a sex scene in Twisters, but that kiss – or the lack thereof – still means something. Though we saw affection between the two characters, the film denied us the horny element, including, for example, a sexy shirtless heartthrob moment for Powell. (Yes, this is Dr. Lesbian arguing for a man to be shirtless in a movie.) There’s no reason you can’t be a boss-ass scientist lady who can smell storms, or whatever, and also thirst after a hunky man. 

One response to the lack of kissing in Twisters goes something like this: “Well, good riddance! We’ve had enough of straight people kissing in movies anyway.” This, I think, is missing the point. While it’s certainly true that we’ve had more than enough straight romances over the years, “straight” cinema becoming less erotic is by no means a good thing for queer and trans people. 

There’s no doubt we need more queer people in movies – film tends to lag behind television when it comes to progress in representation – and this includes images of queer sexuality. But if mainstream cinema is becoming more and more sexless, what does that mean for cinema’s relationship to queerness? If society becomes less comfortable with watching straight sex and desire on screen, do we really think that will equal more queer sex on screen? It’s unlikely. 

This debate also connects to the perennial “no kink at pride” argument, which alleges that public celebrations of queerness should somehow be cordoned off from any implications or expressions of sexuality, especially the non-normative kinds – as if pride can be separated from bodies and desire.

Thankfully, 2024 has been a good year for queer cinema, with Love Lies Bleeding and Challengers leading the pack as the horniest of the bunch. (Notably, Challengers doesn’t have any full sex scenes, and its most erotic moments are not sex acts.) Still, it’s a shame desire has been taken off the table in much of mainstream cinema. We don’t need to replicate the sex-as-pure-titilation strategy of the 1980s – that certainly wasn’t a great era for queer folks, for one – but can we at least find time for a little smooching? 

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