Yes, God, Yes (what a title!) is a cumming-of-age tale.

That is partially a “thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week life” lede, but mostly an accurate description of the movie’s conceit: it suggests that a girl’s ever-evolving pubescent relationship with masturbation can be a journey of coming into (sorry, I had to) her own identity, as communicated by the four intertitles that describe her successive, less-than-successful attempts that build to successfully coming to fruition (I did it again!); her self-enlightenment entails, quite literally, taking matters into her own hands.

An alternative title could’ve been Everybody Wants Some!!

There’s even more to recommend about the movie, including:

Starting any piece of art with a definition is debatably old-hat by now, but Yes, God, Yes refreshes the convention by basically putting a self-aware hat on that old-hat.

The needle drops!

“I’m Italian. Salad comes after the main course” (rest assured, that “comes” is also innuendo; I’m doing it (heyyooo) in response to this movie for a reason!).

Not to get too TMI- personal on you here, but (Mom, please stop reading) … was the Titanic VHS my generation’s readily-available gateway-drug to porn in the pre-Internet era?!

Entrusting a pivotal scene to Susan Blackwell is my kind of movie.

I, for one, never realized that some side-hugging men (#NotAllMen) might be quick-to-rise and incapable of not sexualizing every single woman they touch.

The ending could be understood as A Doll’s House‘s Nora bursting through those doors to attain the requisite freedom to … bust a nut.

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