What're the chances I would like an art-house film by a gay director featuring graphic, there's-no-faking-that depictions of various forms of sexual activity, a significant proportion of it being gay or bisexual and much of it in group scenes? If you guessed "next to nil", you would be right, but last week I tested the waters of modern film critical zeitgiest by watching Shortbus when it turned up on cable TV.
The movie got a significant number of good reviews from credible critics, including our very own
David Stratton. A lot of those reviews commented favourably on the liberal attitude to sex. (Stratton and Pomeranz commented on the "exuberance" and lack of inhibition, and called it "lovely". Would they give an X rated DVD high marks for the same qualities?)
But of course, from the
Cynics of Greece to
Catherine Deveny, there are always people who think that everyone else is just, you know, too hung up about sex. At least the 21st century can be thankful that Deveny hasn't taken to living on the street in a barrel and engaging in self pleasuring when the feeling arises. Not yet, anyway.
Of course, those who are the most forthright advocates against sexual jealousy and continence are usually the ones who leave behind them a bitter trail of unhappy and used former partners. (Bertrand Russell, Sartre and a whole swathe of poets come to mind.) Or if they are like the late politician/old age hippy
Jim Cairns, their alleged belief in "honesty" in sexual relationships does not extend to being above lying about their sex life in court to make a profit.
Anyhow, I slightly digress. I didn't see every minute of the film; I missed the first few but still saw the one extremely graphic and icky sex act that didn't really seem to make any sense in terms of later plot at all. Here are some other thoughts about it the movie:
1. It's appallingly bad. Just had to get that out of the way first.
2. What is wrong with
critics these days? As far as I can see, none of them question any more whether real sex should appear in mainstream cinema. It's true, quiet a few said that the sex in this one did not make it into a good movie; but few seem to question the wisdom or practical consequence of having actors having sex on screen when the product is not intended to be pornographic.
Because, let's face it, when the average audience sees the sex is real, it inevitably jars them out of the normal experience of watching a story.
It's a bit contradictory that this happens, I suppose: if you want an audience to really believe in a fictional sexual relationship, it's best to fake it on screen. But for nearly everyone, there's a natural tendancy towards modesty about the act - and breaching that for the mere sake of storytelling just seems an inadequate excuse. (People forgive porn stars more readily - at least that purpose can only be served by the immodesty.)
The cinematic real-sex taboo was broken a long time ago, most famously by
In the Realm of the Senses in the mid 70's. (The plot of that film screams art-house with a capital "A".) But I see there is
a Wikipedia entry listing every "mainstream" movie which has featured the real thing. That's handy, because it helps me make the point that there is not, it would seem, any significant audience for explicit real sex in mainstream film. So why do it?
Should I allow for the fact that some viewers say that they have been strongly emotionally affected by a fictional movie involving real sex? (I recall that Margaret Pomeranz went all incoherent once when trying to explain how strong her reaction was In the Realm of the Senses.) Well, if cinema involving acted sex had never been emotionally affecting, they might have a point, but that's clearly not the case.
No, I say: get over it, art-house lovers; you don't need to see real sex. Public sex is hardly dignified, otherwise I assume you'd be doing it yourself. Fake sex is at least a bit more dignified than real. Just because the ground's been broken doesn't mean it has to be done again. In fact, most movies featuring it have been far from critical or commercial successes.
3. Let's ignore the real sex issue for a while and look at the logic of the story itself. The main plot-line is probably the one about a gay couple having a relationship crisis. One of the guys has been depressed for a long time. Unknown to both of them, a gay man in the adjoining building has been longingly watching them have sex through the window for months too. (Despite New York gay couples usually having a high disposable income, it would seem they cannot afford curtains.)
The couple together try having sex with another young guy they meet at this orgy saloon known as Shortbus. (I actually missed the reason that the couple were attendees at this place. But then again, it never really made sense why any of them were there. I can't help but imagine that a venue with lots of public sex taking place while others sit around clothed, chatting or listening to music would be anything other than a smelly, unpleasant place to be with more than its fair share of somewhat scary clientele.)
Anyway, threesome sex with the young guy doesn't cure the sad one's depression. At some point, we learn he (the depressed one) used to be a young male prostitute.
On making a suicide attempt, the voyeuristic neighbour rescues the depressed guy who soon ends up in his rescuer's apartment. The depressive says he can't feel the love of his partner. It "stops at his skin." (So far so logical: it is not surprising that an ex-prostitute should have self esteem issues which makes it hard for him to "feel" loved.)
Yet, how do you think our hero will find his apparent cure? If you said "by having (for the first time) receptive anal sex with the kindly voyeur neighbour that he has talked to for 10 minutes" you would win some kind of award for being able to guess stupid gay libertine plot resolution devices. (Thankfully, though, this is one point where the sex is not explicit.)
As a plot device, it reminded me a little of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, where the young guy is temporarily cured of his stuttering by losing his virginity. I still find that a pretty risible, corny idea. But that's got nothing on a gay man who's had umpteen orgasms with heaps of lovers just having to have the right type of sex with a virtual stranger to be able to love his partner.
It is, I suppose, a uber-gay idea if ever there was one.
Anyway, our "hero" is better now, goes back to his boyfriend, where they make yet another trip to the local orgy salon for some groping in public again, relationship cured. (And then the movie ends with a ridiculous finale that involves a song with the line "we all get it in the end" and a band marching in amongst the writhing bodies. It was sort of like a Benny Hill version of Queen's "I want to break free" video clip.)
I don't care what your sexual orientation is: if that's not trite, implausible psycho-sexual storytelling, I don't know what is. I was so glad all the sex on screen had a worthwhile moral. (Sarcasm, that last line.)
Catholics get criticised all the time for worrying too much about sex. At least they don't (or shouldn't!) put it on the silly quasi-Freudian pedestal that this storyline indicates gay liberals believe in. (We also like to remember that it has something to do with reproduction.)
4. The other main storyline is about a female sex therapist who cannot achieve orgasm with her husband, despite his best efforts. Guess what. (No prizes for this one.) By the end of the film she's on her way to sexual happiness by leaving her husband and entering into the new world of bisexual casual fun at the orgy venue.
This woman's character never struck me as particularly sympathetic or pleasant. In the middle of the movie she is involved in an extended bit of ostensible comedy (I won't bother describing it) that was simply stupid and puerile.
5. Another subplot involves a somewhat sympathetically played dominatrix who doesn't like her work anymore. Yet, if I am not mistaken, she's the one left hanging at the end with no obvious resolution of her unhappy situation.
If you ask me, the entire movie is based on a liberal wish fulfilment fantasy in which innovative sex with nice strangers will cure most psychological/emotional ills.
I reckon sensible people of all persuasions, particularly if they have known someone who has actively pursued a highly libertine lifestyle, know this is just about 99% crap, but the idea of sex as therapy is one that keeps getting revived over the years, probably because sex is physically enjoyable and people like to imagine justifications to have lots of it.
That a gay director and bunch of exhibitionist actors may believe this is one thing: that a majority of movie critics don't call him out on it is another.
The only redeeming feature of such a film is that not many people will have seen it. I think I actually get more upset by Sex in the City by virtue of its capacity to do harm to the population's attitude towards sex
en masse.Yet, when you visit IMDB, you'll see lots of comments praising the film to death (although a fair smattering of loathing turns up too.) This is another useful function such a picture serves: it's sort of a barometer for being able to tell which people have exactly a 180 degree opposite world view from yourself. That's assuming, of course, that you're prepared to say over a beer to the bloke you've just met at a party "geez, what did you think of that gay movie Shortbus, what a crock, hey?" Mmm, might not work so well after all.
