Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex *But Were Afraid to Ask

In 1972, Woody Allen looked at Dr. David Reuben’s best-selling, stone-faced non-fiction manual on human sexuality and decided the only logical response was to turn it into a live-action cartoon. It’s an inherently ridiculous premise for a movie—taking a Q&A book and dramatizing the questions—but that’s exactly why it works. I watched this recently while wearing a pair of particularly itchy wool socks, and honestly, the physical discomfort of the socks perfectly mirrored the delightful awkwardness of the "Sperm" sequence.

A Buffet of Absurdity

The film is structured as seven vignettes, each answering a specific question from the book. Because it’s an anthology, the pacing is frantic; if a joke doesn’t land, don't worry—a giant rogue breast will be along shortly to change the subject. We jump from a Shakespearean parody where Anthony Quayle plays a king obsessed with his fool’s performance, to a black-and-white Italian cinema spoof that feels like Woody Allen just wanted to see if he could out-Fellini Fellini.

The highlight for many is "What is Sodomy?", featuring an Armenian doctor and a sheep. While the prompt doesn't list the most famous actor from that segment, the ensemble here is incredibly game. Lou Jacobi shines in a segment about a suburban husband who gets caught cross-dressing, played with such sincerity that it somehow transcends the "man in a dress" trope and becomes a strangely touching, albeit hilarious, bit of character work. Louise Lasser also brings that perfect 70s deadpan energy to the "Are Transvestites Homosexuals?" chapter.

The Independent Spirit of the Early 70s

While United Artists put up the money, this feels like an indie project through and through. Allen was essentially a one-man factory at this stage of his career, operating with the kind of creative freedom that modern directors would sell their souls for. He was given total final cut—a rarity then and an impossibility now for a major studio release.

Turning a $2 million budget into over $18 million at the box office was a massive win, but the film’s "indie" DNA is most visible in its resourcefulness. To save money while still achieving a high-concept look, Allen parodied established cinematic styles. The "Brain" sequence, where Tony Randall and Burt Reynolds (uncredited but legendary in this) man a "Mission Control" center inside a man's head, is a brilliant send-up of 1960s sci-fi like Fantastic Voyage. They used relatively simple sets and lighting to recreate the look of a big-budget blockbuster, proving that good comedy is about framing, not financing.

The VHS Forbidden Fruit

For kids of the 80s and 90s, seeing this tape on the shelf of a local video store was a rite of passage. The cover art—often featuring Woody Allen dressed as a sperm—promised something far more scandalous than the movie actually delivered. It was a "safe" way to feel like you were watching something adult. On a CRT television, the grain of the 1970s film stock gave the vignettes a documentary-like grit that made the surrealism, like a giant breast attacking a countryside, feel strangely tactile.

The comedy is hit-or-miss by design. The Shakespeare segment drags a little, feeling more like a stage play than a film, but then the "What Happens During Ejaculation?" finale hits, and it’s some of the best physical and conceptual comedy of the era. Seeing Allen as a nervous, bespectacled sperm cell waiting to be "launched" into the unknown is an image that stays with you long after the credits roll.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

Turns out, the production was a bit of a scramble. Allen actually shot the film in California instead of his beloved New York, primarily to avoid the logistical headaches of New York unions at the time—a move that allowed him to stretch that $2 million budget much further. Another fun detail: the "Brain" sequence set was so cramped that the actors could barely move, which actually helped sell the "claustrophobic machinery" vibe they were going for.

Lastly, the film almost didn't happen because Dr. Reuben, the author of the original book, was understandably horrified by the script. Allen’s response was effectively to lean harder into the absurdity. It’s a testament to the "New Hollywood" era that a director could take a serious piece of intellectual property and essentially set it on fire for a laugh.

Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex isn't a perfect film, but it's a perfect time capsule. It captures a moment when comedy was allowed to be experimental, low-brow, intellectual, and completely nonsensical all at once. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a high-quality sketch show where the budget was spent on giant props instead of focus groups. If you can handle the 70s pacing, it’s a trip worth taking.