AT ONE POINT in the new film Shortbus, the host of an underground polysexual playground looks out over a sea of naked, writhing, sexing bodies and deadpans to a newcomer, “It’s just like the ’60s, but without all the hope.” Thankfully, and funnily, the film itself is actually filled with hope.

The heart of writer and director John Cameron Mitchell, of Hedwig and the Angry Inch critical acclaim, is clearly in the work and ideas powering this movie. The story pivots around four characters: James and Jamie (Paul Dawson and PJ DeBoy), a good-looking gay couple who are considering bringing extracurricular sexual activity into their long-term relationship; Sofia Lin (Sook-Yin Lee), the Chinese Canadian sex therapist they turn to for guidance, who herself unable to achieve orgasm, has been faking it all these years; and a dominatrix/Polaroid artist named Severin (Lindsay Beamish) who is so disconnected from herself she cannot even bear to speak aloud her given name.

These four characters cavort, indulge, and wake up at a weekly sexual salon held in a loft in present-day Brooklyn, called “Shortbus—where you’ve got to get on to get off” and presided over by the fabulous Justin Bond, as himself.

The “Shortbus” parties are literally smorgasbord offerings of art, music, politics, and of course, every conceivable carnal pleasure imaginable. But ultimately, they’re about community and diversity—a place and a space safe enough for you and me to be you and me. At turns both humorous and tragic, the parallels and intersections of the characters’ lives, with each other and with the rest of a largely unseen society, illuminate the pitfalls of humans connecting with other humans, the fears associated with losing control, and the joys of discovery and release once you have.

Our lives are all about the relationships we foster and the people we know and lose, learn from, and love. Relationships are difficult, to say the least. But, they are navigable and they are worthwhile, and they can save our lives and make us laugh as surely as they make us cry. Or, as was the case for Sofia in one particularly memorable scene, explode with anger and smash to a pulp the vibrating egg that she’d inserted into her vagina, the remote control trustingly and hopefully handed over to her careless and closeted husband.

Much of the strength of Shortbus comes from certain remarkable scenes, and very good performances. The script was heavily workshopped and improvised by all of the actors with John Cameron Mitchell over several years. There is a naturalness and authentic vulnerability that comes across and the actors do an enviable job of bringing dimension to characters that otherwise could’ve sunk beneath the weight of their collective and somewhat clichéd issues.

Sook-Yin Lee has a mouth that makes you wanna go mmmm, and she does a stand up job portraying a sexy Asian woman reconciling the irony of her job and her physical appeal with the lack of orgasmic fulfillment in her marriage and her very real but elusive sexual desires.

Paul Dawson as the former hustler, who is trying desperately to let the love of his longtime boyfriend penetrate, is both believable and sympathetic, as someone wrestling with his own demons and lack of self worth. And Lindsay Beamish brings utter hilarity to her role as a whipping, castigating, scared shitless sex trade worker.

This is the first feature film for all of the leads. A film project that began in 2003, with little to no financing and an open casting call on the Internet, has materialized into a brave and substantial commentary on inhibition, sexual politics, self acceptance and self love. Desires both psychic and physical are explored. Mitchell claims that every orgasm in the movie, save one, is genuine. Trust me, there’s plenty in there.

There is also auto-fellatio, protracted voyeurism, and a musical score by Yo La Tengo, which is impressive and en pointe. Add the lovely digital animation of John Bair, who brings alive the cityscape of New York in the beginning, about 44 “sextras,” and a pee and vibrator consultant—a credit up till now, I’d never noticed before—and you’ve got yourself a movie not for the faint of heart, but for those with plenty of it. •