By Lisabet Sarai
When you've been around as long as I
have, you have to work hard not to repeat yourself.
Our topic for the next fortnight is
movies - something of a relief from the relatively heavy issues we've
been discussing over the past month. I've been blogging here at the
Grip since 2009, and I've written a number of posts on this topic:
Anyway, I thought that for this post, I'd take a trip back in
time and talk about three memorable films that
strongly influenced my sexuality.
Cabaret (1972)
I've seen this classic, directed by Bob Fosse and starring Liza
Minelli and Michael York, at least three times, but the first was
when I was in college. At the time I was painfully shy and socially
inept, with little sexual experience. I was fascinated, nevertheless,
by anything with an erotic theme.
In case you're not familiar with the story, Cabaret takes
place in Weimar-era Berlin, famous for its decadence and hedonistic
excess. American wild child Sally Bowles (Minelli) performs risqué
song and dance routines in the seedy Kit Kat Club, sometimes
accompanied by the disturbingly crude Emcee (Joel Grey). A bookish
young Englishman, Brian Roberts (York), moves into Sally's boarding
house and eventually the two become lovers. Sally befriends
Maximilian, a rich playboy baron who whisks both her and Brian away
to his lavish country estate where he showers them with luxury.
Although lively and funny, Cabaret is a serious movie about
the ascent of the Nazis. It does not end happily. In later viewings,
I tended to be more aware of the ominous backdrop of rising fascism
and anti-Semitism. The first time I saw the film, though, I was
mesmerized by the hints of Brian's bisexuality and the implication
that Sally, Brian and Maximilian were involved in a carnal ménage.
The movie is suggestive rather than explicit, which only heightened
the emotional impact for me.
I had no knowledge about or
experience with homoeroticism at that point. Sally and Brian have a
quarrel, after Maximilian has tired of their company and left for
Argentina.
Sally harps on Maximilian's
generosity, his good looks, his wealth. Brian becomes increasingly
impatient with her apparent obsession.
Brian: Oh, fuck Maximilian!
Sally: (after a
pause, with a triumphant smile) I do.
Brian: (with quiet
intensity) Well, so do I.
It's hard to convey, now, how thrilling
I found this interchange. In fact it's a sign that the lovers'
connection is unraveling, but that aspect was secondary to me at the
time. I was overwhelmed by their bold admission of sexual
transgression, especially the notion that Brian could have had both
female and male sexual partners.
When I remember that scene now, eons
later, I still get goosebumps.
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
(1975)
I didn't see this rock horror musical -
written by Richard O'Brien, directed by Jim Sharman, and starring
(among others) Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon and Meatloaf - until 1976,
when it achieved almost overnight fame as a midnight cult classic. A
lot had changed in my life by then. I was in grad school and my first
long term sexual relationship. Under the influence of my boyfriend
and his cohorts (and maybe my own inner nature), I'd become less
timid and a good deal more adventurous.
Someone in our circle told us about the
movie and the outrageous crowd scenes that had come to accompany it.
I saw it three nights in a row, as I recall, each time bringing
additional friends to the cinematic party. However, the crazy
interactions within the audience were not really what drew me to the
film. No, once again it was the theme of polymorphously perverse
sexuality, on a far grander scale than in Cabaret.
Just in case there's anyone who does
not know the plot of RHPS, I'll summarize it here. Innocent,
newly-engaged young couple Brad and Janet (Sarandon) are stranded by
a flat tire and forced to seek assistance at the creepy mansion of
Dr. Frankenfurter (Curry), a “sweet transvestite from Transsexual,
Transylvania”, who parades around in full make-up, corset, garters
and high heels. “I'm not much of a man by the light of day,” he
sings, “but by night I'm one hell of a lover.” And indeed he is,
seducing both Brad and Janet. The latter also finds herself seeking
physical solace with the creature the mad doctor has constructed in
his lab, a handsome body builder named Rocky who Frankenfurter claims
“is good for relieving my tension”. Things begin to fall apart,
however, as the cross-dressing evil genius becomes jealous, with
Frankenfurter compelling everyone involved to participate in a sexy
floor show and then an orgy.
“Give yourself over to absolute
pleasure.
Swim the warm waters of sins of the
flesh.
Erotic nightmares beyond any measure
And sensual daydreams to treasure
forever.
…
Don't dream it, be it...”
Yes, I know it sounds silly now, but
these lyrics spoke to me. Over the next few years, one might say that
I adopted them as my personal anthem. I followed my fantasies, eager
to make my dreams real.
RHPS doesn't end well either.
Frankenfurter is overpowered by his servants, who tell him “his
mission is a failure” and that he “lost out to extremes”. The
creature is executed and the mansion is revealed to be a space ship,
which blasts off taking the inhabitants back to the planet Transexual
in the galaxy of Transylvania. Frank and Janet escape, but are, one
suspects, irrevocably damaged.
Actually, I've been toying with the
notion of writing an erotic story featuring Janet as a character,
thirty five years later. Brad is terrified by the sensuality of
Frankenfurter's world, but Janet embraces it (“It's a gas that
Frankie's landed – his lust is so sincere”, she sings.) What
would it be like to have one's “mind expanded”, as she puts it,
through a night of intense sexual pleasure, and then to lose it all?
I picture her as a cougar, seducing young men in an attempt to
recapture the thrill of that night, but incapable of satisfaction
with a human lover after experiencing the extraterrestrial mojo of
both Frank and Rocky.
Unfortunately, I haven't got beyond
this initial premise. All the ideas I've had so far have been either
ridiculous or utterly depressing. I do identify with Janet, though,
especially as I age and look back upon my out-of-this-world
experiences as a young woman.
9½Weeks
(1986)
I suspect that there's no reader of the Oh Get a Grip blog who has
not at least heard of 9 ½ Weeks. This somewhat infamous
erotic drama. directed by Adrian Lyne and starring Mickey Rourke and
Kim Basinger, was panned by critics and received three Golden
Raspberry nominations the year it was released, including Worst
Actress and Worst Screenplay. Nevertheless, the film has a place in
my personal erotic history, because it was the first time I'd seen a
BDSM relationship played out on the screen.
As far as I can recall, I saw the movie not long after it had been
released, and I believe I'd already read (with highly mixed feelings)
Elizabeth McNeill's memoir of the same title, on which the film is
based. I was only a few years married at this point, and my own
experiences with D/s prior to my marriage were still fresh and almost
painfully arousing. I must have dragged my husband to the movie too –
we rarely engaged in separate recreation. I strongly suspect he hated
it, but he endured it for my sake.
In a recent post on the ERWA blog
(
http://erotica-readers.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-inner-eye.html),
I suggest that reading allows more room for the play of imagination,
and thus provides a deeper and more satisfying experience than
watching a film or video. While I believe this is true, actually
seeing forbidden acts can be more exciting and disturbing than
reading about them, especially before one becomes jaded. I had little
patience with Kim Basinger's character, but I found Mickey Rourke
compelling and plausible in his role of the dominant John Gray. (What
is it about these Doms, that they all have the same surname?) He's
not really all that physically attractive, which for me made him more
real and more exciting. The fact that some of the trials he set for
Elizabeth mirrored challenges from my own lost master only made the
effects stronger.
I fantasized for weeks about the film, inserting myself into
Basinger's place - and changing the ending. In both the book and
the film, the relationship is portrayed as unhealthy and abusive.
Eventually the submissive heroine manages to break away from the
dominant's influence. The implication is that she has “escaped”
back to a normal sexual existence. This interpretation really
bothered me, perpetuating as it does the popular myth that people who
engage in kinky sex are somehow sick or damaged, or that a vanilla
relationship is intrinsically healthier.
Looking at the success of FSOG, it appears that this mistaken notion
is still prevalent.
Zalman King co-produced 9
½ Weeks. Perhaps
if he had been more intimately involved, the film would have been a
bigger success, both commercially and artistically. He's a master at
portraying passion on the screen, as witnessed by such works as Wild
Orchid,
The Red Shoe
Diaries,
and Two Moon
Junction.
But
those titles will have to wait for another post.
