Pornography star Sasha Grey's appeal to the younger man, and to the lecherous older man, is that she'll remind you of the cold-starin' hipster girls that you see on the street and yet can rarely fondle. And yet, if you're like me and prefer your porn to be of the knee sock variety, then you've most likely seen her money-makin' minge quite frequently. Born in 1988 (I KNOW!), she's the millennial generation's gal in porn-Havana. Whereas your typical adult starlet looks like a cut-rate Tara Reid impersonator, Grey is the scraggly, edgy, angel-headed hipster whose clothes and affection I'd want. Her hipster street cred was gold-plated because she has appeared in photographs, with her nipples blazing-and demurely cupping her teeny pube-garnished kitty-cage. (Lady-hair is the prime hipster aesthetic.) And though she already has 150 titles to her name (including the auspicious "Oral Supremacy" and "Bring'em Young"), still Grey plays the hip chick that just loves to bone-not the sickly blonde who is plowing her way through an insurmountable amount of daddy issues.

So when it comes to Steven Soderbergh's newest movie, "The Girlfriend Experience," obviously there's an elephant in the room. That elephant is shaped like Sasha Grey's vagina. It's a titillating gimmick for Steven Soderbergh to cast Grey as a call girl-particularly as she's the only actress in the cast. It feels strangely triumphant to know what an icy beauty looks like during sex in a movie that's without "love" scenes. But if you haven't previously seen Grey's unprivate parts, it will be impossible to get through "The Girlfriend Experience"'s tedium.

On-screen, she's still effortlessly zeitgeist-y. On screen, she just conveys that the blogs are hip to her, that camp-goddess Tyra digs her, that she models couture for Vice. She does everything short of update her Twitter while filming.

Vaginas aside, this Soderbergh movie is about whores. Surprise: We're all whores. We are all Sasha Grey. Be you a grunting personal trainer upselling a client's membership package–Grey's on-screen boyfriend–or or any type of Business Man, according to Soderbergh, we all trick out our services to the highest bidder. The only broker who's coolly in charge of her capital in this improvised semi-story is the call girl–and she is selling not so much her body as an emotional experience of connection.

That we are all whores is an observation that has no place outside of a black-lit dorm room. But it does allow Grey to give us one knock-out scene. You can see her skin tremble and the aching lump in her throat rise and swell as she describes a humiliating sexual encounter with a-ready?-spiteful internet critic who trashes her online.

So most of the point of this movie is for Soderbergh to take a peevish swipe at critics, journalists, and bloggers. (BTW, speaking of peevish, here's a debate topic for you to pose to at your next ironic Tip Toes screening: Is Steve Soderbergh the smartest fluff director? Or fluffiest smart director? Evidence: Ocean's 13 and Traffic. GO!). In the film, the grubby Internet troll is played by film critic Glenn Kenny-he's some Converse-wearing Boomer who has bashed our own advice-lady Emily on his blog.

And then there's a half-hearted subplot about an "intrusive journalist" played by New York magazine's Mark Jacobson (he once wrote about New York whores), whose interrogation drives the fiercely private Grey to tears. Point is: media folks are the meanest, most unfuckable whores.

So you don't like this hands-off "slice of life" movie about the transactions of a hipster hooker? Gonna trash it on a Butterfingered sponsored blog? It's no use! Sodbergh's whole shebang is a built-in pre-emptive strike against bad reviews, or criticism, or dislike, or knee-jerk disdain, whichever one you might feel. In this world he made up (or did he?), every opinion is only guided by malice. What a terrible place.