35. Wild Things (1998)

Granted, when Denise Richards and Neve Campbell take their tops off and start making out, you're not likely to find much quibbling from the core audience of "Wild Things." But much like the hangover that one imagines occurring off-screen following the night of the drunken ménage à trois between Richards, Campbell and Matt Dillon, the scene itself leaves a bad aftertaste, which makes it fit right in with the poor taste of director John McNaughton's crude version of an afterschool special crossed with a whodunit. Taken out of context, as it has been on countless celebrity nudity web sites, the threesome becomes the sad and improbable affair of two actresses in their mid-twenties playing high school students succumbing to the charms of their ineffectual high school counselor (Dillon). Dillon sounds more like a football coach as he barks orders to a pouty Richards and a grim Campbell, clutching the backs of their scalps and bringing them towards each other to kiss while slyly sliding his face toward Richards's impressive décolletage. Although the scene could be interpreted as a noble opportunity to bridge the gap between cheerleaders and goth girls in high schools everywhere, it's an opportunity missed since, shortly after the forced same sex smooching, the sandy blonde Richards gets most of Dillon's groping attention while Campbell blithely pours champagne on Richards's breasts. Still, it's nice to know McNaughton has lines he won't cross -- he didn't include a shower scene between Dillon and Kevin Bacon. That, apparently, would have been just too gratuitous. --Stephen Saito [Watch this clip on Flurl.]

34. Teeth (2007)

As a film about vagina dentata, the mythic condition whereby a woman's nether regions come equipped with razor-sharp fangs, it goes without saying that Mitchell Lichtenstein's "Teeth" would feature at least one instance of coitus that ends very, very badly. And true to expectations, it features a whole host of those incidents, though none quite as corny as its finale, in which abstinent good girl-turned-sexual monster Dawn (Jess Weixler) takes revenge against her misogynistic stepbrother -- who pines for his nubile sis -- by screwing him to death. Raunchy pseudo-incest that ends with a penis being chomped off by a merciless vagina should be B-movie gold, and one can only imagine the hilarious terror that Roger Corman or Troma's Lloyd Kaufman might have elicited from such a scenario. Director Lichtenstein, on the other hand, so doggedly plays his horror-comedy for predictable, goofy laughs that there's absolutely nothing scary -- much less titillating or sexy --about this bloody copulation. Worse still, Dawn's deliberate act of violence isn't even remotely shocking, since this flaccid one-trick pony of an indie has already depicted castration thrice before, when its avenging angel snipped off the members of two would-be boyfriends and the fingers of a probing predatory gynecologist. --Nick Schager

33. Savage Grace (2007)

The incestuous stew that is Tom Kalin's "Savage Grace" reaches its high-low point in a well-appointed London home, where Barbara Daly Baekeland finally and fully consummates her relationship with her son Antony on the parlor sofa. Most of the movie follows Barbara's slow quest to replace her disinterested husband's affections with those of her son; for a time they share a lover, even simultaneously at one point. But in London they dispense with the intermediaries in a one of the most uncomfortable sexual sequences in motion picture history. Mommie Dearest plays with the crotch of her son's pants and tosses off what I guess passed for dirty talk amongst the mid-20th century aristocracy ("What fabric are these pants made of? I like the boxers you've chosen.") before climbing on top of her boy and riding him for what feels like an eternity. No amount of prayers to the God of Timely Editing will cut short the squirmy agony, and when Barbara finally finishes, she's upset to learn that poor Tony didn't orgasm, so she beats him off until he does. Kalin seems to be trying very hard -- excessively hard -- to disturb us. But it's Julianne Moore giving her son a vigorous on-screen hand job. A little goes a long way. --Matt Singer

32. Flypaper (1997)

The sole directorial effort of Klaus Hoch, whose credits otherwise consist mainly of work as a gaffer and best boy on TV movies and direct-to-DVD thrillers, "Flypaper" looks at first like another forgettable entry into that genre of "Pulp Fiction"-lite flicks in which the unsavory lives of hard-to-believe characters intersect in whatever ways will best yield humorized violence and would-be risqué sex. And it is, and a sadly nonsensical entry at that, until in its quest to be quirky-shocking the film takes one contortion too far and manages a scene that's truly out-there awful. In one of several storylines, Lucy Liu plays a meth lab worker who's kidnapped by... oh, it doesn't really matter. Suffice to say that she's eventually taken in by a friendly snake farmer (Kirstie Alley ex James Wilder) who woos her into testing out a new anti-venom serum by going at it in an empty pool filled with rattlesnakes. That bite the couple. As they have sex. Liu gets naked, groans and grins like a trooper not yet made famous by "Ally McBeal," but these days it's clear that it's a role she'd rather strike from her resume. As she told papers: "It wasn't a horror movie but it turned out to be one." --Alison Willmore [Watch this clip at Cylive.]

31. The Doom Generation (1995)

Three years after critic B. Ruby Rich coined the term New Queer Cinema, movement mainstay Gregg Araki unleashed this pretentiously in-your-face, industrial rock-flavored midnight trash, the middle finger in his Teenage Apocalypse trilogy (as sandwiched between 1993's "Totally Fucked Up" and 1997's "Nowhere"). From its opening shot, as star Rose McGowan dangles a cigarette between her lips and growls an F-bomb into the camera, Araki's film seemingly exists only to shock, but its contrived edginess and cheap sexploitation are even more passé and tame a decade-plus removed. (All it takes to be hailed a daring filmmaker is a bisexual ménage à trois, really?) Early on, as McGowan wins her Mr. Skin infamy with a topless bathtub scene in a motel, her mopey teen beau James Duval comes into the bathroom to piss, just staring at her tits. He takes off his pants, his sack dangling in frame as he hops in the tub with her. Meanwhile, twenty-something drifter Johnathon Schaech -- still blood-stained from the convenience store clerk he murdered that evening -- stands outside the door, leers in and jerks off. Sleazy, yes, but about as erotic as getting your nose busted, which Duval does on the tub a couple beats later. Schaech kicks the door open: "I'm so fucking hungry I could eat my own leg. How 'bout a little foodular action?" Then he licks the cum off his hand with a perverted Cheshire grin. Oh, Gregg Araki, you're soooo subversive. --Aaron Hillis

[Photos: "Savage Grace," IFC Films, 2007; "Teeth," Roadside Attractions, 2007; "Wild Things," Columbia Pictures, 1998; "Flypaper," Trimark Pictures, 1997; "The Doom Generation," Trimark Pictures, 1995]