Quick: Hide the Porn!

Caution: the following blog contains references to porn and to "The Boy Who Could Fly."

I am having woes at work once more and I want to write about that just as much as you, dear reader(s), wants to read about it. So, let's talk about something that interests me much more.

When I was much younger -- far, far too young to have anything to do with such books -- I happened across the book Xaviera This book, as the cover indicates, is the follow-up to The Happy Hooker. Holding the book in my hand, I was certain that I should not even have it in my possession, so of course, I read it. I had to.

It has been decades (yes, decades plural) since then and all I can remember of the book is thinking "Of course she's happy. She has lots of money and has lots of adventures." Those are my sole memories of the book. The sense of "I shouldn't be reading this" has stayed with me through the years and I find I am still drawn to the books and movies that, for whatever reason, I shouldn't see. Any book or movie that causes controversy or -- better still -- has for some reason been banned or otherwise restricted draws me in.

My lastest "you shouldn't be watching this" experience was "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer". And how jaded I have become from my years of pushing that entertainment envelope. Of course, I already knew about the two controversial scenes in "Henry", so when they rolled around, I wasn't shocked or offended the way that maybe I should have been. Still, my curiosity as always got the better of me and I had to watch it.

Curiosity has lead me down some pretty interesting paths of entertainment. A chance discovery at the local library netted me The Sensuous Woman when I was a teenager and, of course, I had to read Forever as a teen because "some people" (and there are always "some people") complained about the frank depiction of sex between teenagers.

As soon as I read about the controversies created by books like Lolita The Story of Oand 9 1/2 Weeks, I knew that I had to read them. More than read. Devour. Discover what it was contained within those covers that "some people" thought that no one should read.

Ah, and some people shall always have a field day with porn. Porn. Porn. Porn. It is a silly word for what, more often than not in my own humble experience, manages to be silly iteself. I admit to a certain curiosity about porn as well. How could I not be curious about something that is so taboo? My local video store in my tiny home town years ago had the littlest "adult" section possible, a small room with a polite home-made sign reminding customers that "adults only" were allowed in there. What was all the fuss about? I wandered in there, as more often than not I would be the only person in the entire video store, browsing and snickering at the absurd pictures on the boxes. Perhaps I was just too young. But there came a day when I was not too young anymore, when I could actually rent some of this porn I had heard so much about. And, I must say, my initial impression was pretty accurate. What I saw was funny and absurd and it managed to take away everything sexy about sex and turn it into a laughable, poorly acted joke. I saw a porn movie once that contained a scene with a guy pumping away at some gal right on their dinner table -- and right on their dinner. So I was looking at this guy's naked hairy ass, watching him thrust away as peas and pork chops were flying all over and I just could not appreciate the ridiculous grunts that came from him and from her. All I thought about was why they would ruin a perfectly good dinner like that. There was nothing exotic or wonderful about the porn I saw; it was common and ordinary, bodies thrown together in sweaty masses that somehow managed to not be remotely erotic. But the beauty of porn (of course there is a beauty side) is the sheer variety. There are so many different tastes, different fetishes, different desires that I wonder whether there are even two people on this whole planet with the exact same sex drives, exact same sexual desires, exact same sexual preferences. There are so many variables to consider that it the fact that two people can ever align their sexual schedules and interests enough to engage in coitus (or not engage in coitus, depending on their preference). I have seen the women in movies and in magazines (ah, the magazines that are also so forbidden that of course I had to study them) and my overwhelming thought is "Wow. I don't look like that at all." But then I don't resemble the impossibly busty lasses from most of the porn films either.

Speaking of not even remotely erotic, there is that classic film "Caligula" that I just had to see and which I cannot remove from my brain -- though I have tried. I had read enough to be intensely curious and the best I can say is that I never have to see it again. Any movie that can suck the erotic out of an orgy scene doesn't deserve to be controversial.

I just can't seem to say no to controversy when it comes to books or movies. Sometimes, the decision is just a bad one, such as the aforementioned "Caligula" or "Crash." Don't even get me started on how awful I thought "Crash" was -- this being the "Crash" that involved people getting sexually amorous because of car accidents, not the overrated Academy-Award-winning film. Sometimes, though, such as in "The Last Temptation of Christ", I can discover something interesting and thought-provoking. I like having my thoughts provoked. A random, unrelated thread on a movie message board sent me straight into the cinematic arms of Michael Haneke's films. Much has been made of his film "Funny Games" -- particularly after he remade it recently with an American cast. "Funny Games", in particular, is an interesting study in psychological torture. Not only does the movie focus on the torment of the family, but on the audience, turning the voyeuristic quality of such films back on the audience, daring to ask "Why would you watch this?" And it was awful and wonderful at once to wonder why I would ever watch such a film and I was hooked on Haneke's daring, his way of saying "I shouldn't -- but I am." Then, I saw "Benny's Video", an earlier Haneke film and I was disturbed. Again, the voice within me asked "Why would you watch this?" And I knew that my own answer was, of course, because someone said I shouldn't. Then, "The Piano Teacher". Again, I was shocked and saddened for the main character, a women whose masochistic desires lead her down some seriously dark corridors. She made me feel positively well adjusted.

Jeff has watched me wach some of these movies and I must say that I don't drag him down with me (mostly). He has asked me how I can stand it -- particularly a grisly, stark film like "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer". I reply that it is fiction. I want to absorb fiction -- books or movies -- that emigrate from the darker recesses of someone's mind. Fiction. I want no part of reality intruding on my entertainment, though Xavieria is autobiographical debauchery and the book 9 1/2 Weeks is purportedly also autobiographical. I had seen the movie and thought for certain that the book would prove to be tame as well, but there were passages of the book that haunted me. Crept into my brain and took up residence. I took a brief foray into nonfiction crime stories based on the movie "Blind Faith", which I only watched because the movie had Jay Underwood in it and I had liked him so much in "The Boy Who Could Fly".

Of course, these passages were pushed out by later readings of books like American Psycho. When I read that book, I was knocked out. Brilliant satire and disturbing, graphinc images. Of course, "some people" thought that the book was misogynistic and I think "some people" missed the point (and, of course, only made me want to read it more). The main character was misogynistic; that's rather the point of the book, a theme if you will. That, and identity. Oh, and a rather nasty bit with a nail gun and a mouse.

So, I say, if you can't warm someone's heart with a movie like "The Boy Who Could Fly" (which I saw a dozen or more times in my youth), then make something that provokes some other kind of reaction. I would rather be disturbed by the most graphic fictional account possible (and that award goes to you, Chuck Palahniuk, for your book, Haunted) than be indifferent. I want fiction to move me with its beauty or with its ugliness, to shake me to the core with its truth or to make me laugh until I am certain that I will vomit. Anything but indifference. "Some people" say that it is better to be indifferent, but I am just not listening.

Oh, and I have finally decided to do some research for the sake of my blog, so, sitting in the front seat of my car is the same well-worn copy of Xavieria from so many years ago. Yes, I managed to procure it so that I can read it and critique it as an adult (though the status of my adulthood is always subject to debate). Anything for you, dear reader(s).