Pull Back A Little?

Here’s a quote from some young actor who is currently appearing in a TV show about homosexuals (which I’ll never watch):

“It is awkward, but the thing was, on the show we had people called intimacy coordinators and their jobs, they’re amazing, they’re jobs are to help with the sex scenes and everyone doing the sex scenes to feel safe and fine and not awkward.”

Here’s a thought:  if your actors are requiring what is essentially psychological counseling just to get through a sex scene, perhaps you might just want to dial back the sexuality a tad?

Look, I love me a decent sex scene:  Body Heat, Impulse, Zefferelli’s Romeo & Juliet, Don’t Look NowUnfaithful and the original The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (not the rape scene, though) — all those and more have been fun as hell to watch, and even now are still quite titillating.

The problem is that as the sexual boundaries have been pushed back on screen, the sex scenes have become not only more explicit, but more intense — and along the way, more harrowing.  Erica Jong once described porno movies as (paraphrasing) after the first ten minutes, you want to fuck somebody, and after the next twenty minutes, you never want to fuck again for the rest of your life.

Modern mainstream movies about sex are like that.  I defy anyone to be anything but depressed after watching Gaspar Noé’s Love, Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac , 9 Songs or Anatomie de l’enfer (to name the most extreme examples).  In some of the modern French movies (e.g. Anatomie), I start to feel depressed during the first sex scene, which must be some kind of record.

I’m not suggesting we go back to the Hays Code era, where the husband and wife had to sleep in separate beds, and extra- or non-marital sex had to result in the death of one of the participants (which is downright sick, sicker than the taboo sex).  But seriously:  let’s just leave a little to the imagination, shall we?

Here’s a thought:  if a sex scene means that the actors have written into their contracts that the acts must be performed by a body double,  then dial it back and ditch the sexual stand-ins.  And any sex scene which lasts longer than one (1) minute should be edited until it doesn’t.

Let’s keep it sexy, but also keep it subtle, and short.  Sex doesn’t have to be spelled out — we all know what it’s about.  Here’s an example, from Hitchcock’s North By Northwest :

Anyone remember what this scene cut to?   Yup:  here it is.  Thirty-five seconds.

Not Responsible

Courtesy of Britain’s ever-reliable Sun  newspaper, I see the following little activity has made the news:

A MILLIONAIRE businessman who attended Prince Harry’s wedding to Meghan Markle has been charged with sex offences.

Did he prowl the streets at night, grabbing women and violently raping them in alleyways?

The dad-of-four was allegedly inappropriately physical with employees — often young women working as PAs or receptionists.

Oh, that.  Well, let’s leave it to the courts to see if any of this eeevil “#MeToo” stuff actually happened, because I’m more interested in the fact that interest in this case was sparked by his attendance at Ginge and Whinge’s wedding.

Now as little time as I have for the Sussexes, I don’t think they can be held responsible for what their wedding “guests” get up to — and I emphasize the word because I have no doubt that neither the bride nor the groom actually invited Mr. Badfinger to the wedding;  rather, he was invited by their respective social secretaries / courtiers because he was a successful businessman.  In other words, the New Californians had nothing to do with his behavior afterwards.

I can sympathize with them, actually, because I know for a fact that after one of my weddings (shuddup), at least four (and maybe more) of my invited guests engaged in a little group sex at someone’s house after the reception.   And I personally invited all of them, but I certainly cannot be held responsible for their post-festivity fun ‘n games, can I?

I blame the “open bar” for all of it, myself.  I don’t know whether the accused (above) can use the same defense.

Nazzo Sexy

Whenever journalists run out of material to write about, or want to give their mouths a rest from kissing Socialist politicians’ asses, they compile lists.  Here’s one featuring the “Sexiest Movies“, for example.

Now as any fule kno, “sexy” is as much in the eye of the beholder [sic]  as “taste” is when comparing, say, wines.  What causes paroxysms of delight in one may cause another to gag — such as a sweet dessert wine, a dry red wine, or seeing Rosie O’Donnell in leather.

My apologies… give me a moment, here:

Anyway, I think I’ve made my point.  Here are the movies adjudged “most sexy” by whatever people answered the survey:

I must admit I haven’t seen all of them, but let me state that homo / lesbo movie sex scenes do nothing for me — they turn me on about as much as watching animals mate on NatGeo TV shows  — which eliminate some from the list altogether.

I am likewise uninterested in movies whose aim is to seduce an underage virgin girl (or boy), which takes care of Cruel Intentions, American Beauty  and Notes On A Scandal, none of which are sexy other than for prurient interest.  (Also Lolita:  the movies and the novel.)

I think we need to define what constitutes a sexy movie:  one raunchy scene (e.g. Basic Instinct ), a whole bunch of nudity with some sex (Eyes Wide Shut ) or explicit sex scenes.

Let me clear the latter out of the way first:  9 Songs, Gaspar Noël’s Love  and Catherine Breillat’s Romance  and Anatomy of Hell  (French:   Anatomie de l’enfer ) are pretty much just bonkfests all the way through.  (The last three are also, whether by design or by mistake, among the most depressing movies ever made, and 9 Songs isn’t far behind.  You have been warned.)  Shows that have sex as the central theme are seldom sexy, which is why 50 Shades  and Secretary, for example, are terribly unsexy.  (I thought Secretary  was funny, which just shows my taste.)  If you’re going to watch a movie just for sex, rent Oui GirlsUp ‘N Coming or The Young Like It Hot  and have done with it.

As for the rest:  the Jack Nicholson version of The Postman Always Rings Twice  is sexier than any of the movies on the list, as is Dennis Quaid’s The Big Easy  (Ellen Barkin:  “I haven’t ever had any luck when it comes to sex.”  Dennis Quaid:  “Well, chère, your luck’s about to change.”)

I haven’t seen Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona  because I’m not a huge fan of his movies, but I’ve been told that it’s brilliant — unlike all his other stuff except Midnight In Paris, which is — so I’ve put it on The List.

So there you have it:  twelve of the thirteen “sexiest” movies fail the Kim Test for sexy.  Whether that says more about me than it does the respondents, I’ll leave up to you.

NSFW Day

Everyone including Your Humble Narrator needs a break from the daily grind, especially given recent political events, and we can’t just fill our days with guns, Righteous Shootings and similar stuff.  (Well, we can;  but Man shall not live by guns alone — I read that somewhere, so it must be true.)

Accordingly, today is all about SEX.  If you are at work, or at all prudish, you may want to skip the posts below because they will contain sex themes, raunchy stories and quite possibly nude women.  Actually, there will definitely be nude women. Read more

Misbegotten Youth

A few days back I posted a Righteous Shooting in which a 14-year-old boy was whacked while trying to hijack a car, and it got me thinking:  is 14 the new 21?  Certainly, the law sees it that way on occasion, when the State will try scum like the aforementioned as adults — but it has to be a seriously-violent crime for that to occur.

Of course, it never happens in the case of sex, because while a 14-year-old boy is deemed quite capable of wielding a gun, he is apparently still a weeny likkel child when it comes to his swinging dick — as evidenced in this sad tale:

A mother-of-three accused of having sex with a 14-year-old boy after luring him back to her house has told a court he ‘didn’t tell her he was in Year 9’ and it ‘didn’t occur’ to her that he might be under age.

In her defense, I bet that he didn’t look fourteen:  he probably had 5 o’clock shadow and wasn’t wearing little boys’ clothing either.  (Side note:  one of the problems in the teenage clothing fashion business is that ten-year-olds are encouraged to wear clothes designed for eighteen-year-olds, which doesn’t help.)

Anyway, our lecherous “older woman” (age 32) didn’t just lure this boy back to her place;  she lured two of the little bastards away, but only jumped one of them — showing remarkable restraint for a Woman Of Today.   And I’m sure these “boys” had no idea that Aunty MILFy, rather than giving them tea and biscuits, was really wanting to get stuck into some fresh young meat.  Young boys nowadays can be so naïve, right?  (Especially when hijacking a car or sticking up a 7-11, you bet.)

I’d love to see a picture of this hard-done-by teen boy — not in the kiddie’s sailor suit he’ll be wearing in court, but as he’s normally dressed to hang out with his buddies — but given the law, in which kiddies’ identities may not be revealed in matters of this nature, that’s not going to happen.

No such protection is afforded the accused, of course, and this Mom Of The Year looks pretty much as you might expect:

We older guys always bemoan stories like this, wishing that we had been subjected to such disgusting sexual encounters when we were of that age.  At age 14, I was still pretty immature and naïve when it came to matters of sex — but even I would have pegged this one for a total skank and fled in the opposite direction.

The fact that these two kids didn’t run away screaming should make them at least partially culpable in what followed.


Update:  Looks as though the little shits weren’t the Pore Innocent Lil Boyz they claimed to be, and so SuperMum goes free. But she’s still a skank.

Unrealistic

Once upon a time, there was a Danish girl who came upon a great deal of celebrity in that she was a.) Danish, b.) rather pretty and c.) a TV presenter in Britishland.  Time (actually quite a lot of time) passed (details below), and she ended up telling her tale of woe thus:

‘I really squeeze in any bits of special loving I can!’ Ulrika Jonsson, 53, says she is enjoying sex in her 50s MORE than her 30s and describes herself as a ‘sexual creature’

The use of the term “squeeze in” is rather unfortunate, because Our Ulrika has given birth to four children (by four different men, but that’s a story for another time and in any event, she is Danish, after all).  Now, Men Of A Certain Age will know that her reproductive activity is likely to have had consequences whereby her pleasure tunnel most likely resembles New York’s Lincoln Tunnel (if you get my drift), hence the irony behind the “squeezing” part.

Also, the fair-skinned Jonsson has always been something of a sun worshipper, which is fine when you’re a Pretty Young Thing, but as the years pass…

Her outer covering is, to put it mildly, more akin to old leather than skin.  Not that this stops her from compulsive Instagramming, albeit with some truly heroic cosmetic / photographic enhancement:

And there’s more here, if you can stomach it:

I suppose that being famous (after a fashion) and being a woman more or less guarantees that Men Of A Certain Type will always be willing to entertain her, so to speak (cf. the ghastly Madonna for another example).   Had she been just an ordinary unwed mother of four kids by four different men, however, she’d probably be reduced to pulling drunk sailors during Fleet Week by saying, “Come to (or in ) Mommy.”

Speaking for myself, the expression “ten-foot pole” is very appropriate.  Your opinions may vary.