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From a Whisper to a Scream: On the Artaudian Cruelty of LA PIANISTE

Emerging from her “cage” at the Vienna Conservatory, Erika Kohut now enters a prison of a different make: the apartment she owns with her mother. They have a confrontation over what forty-something Erika has done earlier in the night – namely shopping for frivolous clothing – and hair-pulling and ugly histrionics ensue before mother and daughter reconcile to take their nightly place in the bed they share. In this title sequence, director Michael Haneke presents the microcosm of their relationship, bipolar and incestuous in all but deed. Adapted from the novel by Austrian playwright Elfriede Jelinek, La Pianiste (The Piano Teacher) carries the fragrance of an old novel, but the film's motifs of ritualized sexual violence and voyeurism come across as a contrarian gesture. Marrying the contemporary and classic in an incisive study of brutalized passions, Haneke explores man's urge to direct his own suffering.

Isabelle Huppert inhabits the eponymous part of Erika, a woman whose personal and professional lives are thoroughly dedicated to control and the pursuit of perfection. Huppert has a history of playing self-contained women and here she is in fine form as a Viennese specimen of severity whose transgressive desires seethe underneath a mask of icy poise. Operating on the principles of classical tragedy, Haneke paints two distinct and opposing artistic tendencies within her, worrying the tension between the chic and the abject.^[1]

The film chronicles her suffering, which begins with small acts of rebellion in the form of sexual compulsions. Erika's identity is fractured by disparate roles; At home, she simultaneously plays the infantilized daughter and the surrogate husband for her mother. Outside of her conservatory and home, she is a lurker, a voyeur with latent violence directed towards others and herself. Indeed, Erika is something rarely seen in cinema - a beautiful female pervert. This uncomfortable tension is acknowledged even within the film, at a sex shop on one of Erika's furtive excursions where her very presence disturbs and shames the male customers and breaks them out of the fantasy. Erika is seemingly repulsed by her femaleness, cutting her sex as a hobby. Thankfully Haneke doesn't predicate our empathy on the provision of backstory. One simply reacts to the shocking but plaintive truths of what she's doing and to the questions of why or why not. The character cannot be so easily consumed by the viewer, who must activate his or her fantasy in the detangling of her motivations. It is not clear, for example, whether Erika, the middle aged piano teacher, has fallen below expectations of fame and fortune because she lacks the talent or because she has purposely thwarted her ambitions out of spite for her mother. One does get the sense her artistic drive has curdled when she browbeats her admiring students. Her self-loathing in this respect perhaps manifests most clearly in a subplot where she sabotages the potential career of a female student with an equally domineering mother.

Haneke, in his infinite perversity, sets up the love triangle between Erika, her mother, and the rakish student, Walter Klemmer (Benoit Magimel). While Walter's eagerness provokes Erika, Freudian principles of transference help explain why Erika cannot feel or respond to the latter's conventional expressions of love.^[2] He even changes a public performance of a Schönberg piece to one of Schubert's just to impress her (and that is quite a difference – jumping from the Modern discordance to Romanticism).^[3] Walter pursues her ardently, initiating a game of seduction meanwhile failing to (or refusing to) recognize her bizarre symptoms of illness. For an instant he is a paragon of mythic muscularity, the white knight to liberate the repressed heroine but, alas, the film is decidedly anti-love.

For Erika has an uncompromising idea of love, in which art is to be confused with real life. Music is the predominant metaphor for love in the film, and the recurring scenes in which Erika gives rigorously precise note-by-note analysis of a piece of music serve as reminders of the fact. Walter, while attractive to her, is not the perfect lover because he does not play music they way she expects, which is to say with complete dedication to the art. Walter uses music to seduce Erika, who does not want to be seduced and possessed in the same way she is possessed by her mother. Her rigid rules for sexuality in turn convey the Romantic paradox of applying Apollonian order to Dionysian emotions. “Feelings won't defeat my intelligence,” Erika states to Walter after an unconsummated sexual encounter. Later she gives Walter explicit “instructions” by letter expressing her desires to be beaten and gagged. Alternatively infuriated and disgusted, Walter is curious enough to keep playing. Subtextually, Erika controls Walter's pleasure in the same way the director controls the emotions of the viewer. Haneke is a formalist and he shoots meticulously, so his presence is felt less in the stationary camerawork and more in the actions of the characters. Haneke identifies with Erika and projects those active, masculine characteristics onto her, but Haneke does not turn her into feminist statement. Erika is not so much aware of her behavior as she is reacting defensively to protect her selfhood.

When Erika's wishes are granted in the traumatic climax, the scene is devoid of sexual gratification. Walter's transformation from the precocious admirer to the abusive savage is shocking. “Not as you imagined?” Walter mercilessly posits, and with this statement Haneke seemingly implicates the viewer seeking vicarious thrills from a movie about sadomasochism.

In the end, life goes on and the contemptuous young man abandons the broken older woman as the viewer similarly walks away from the film. With Huppert's indelible parting look of agony and her final tragic gesture, Haneke draws back the curtain over his theatre of cruelty.

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[1] Refer to the Apollonian-Dionysian axis. " Fredrich Nietsche, Raymond Guess, Nietsche: The Birth of Tragedy and Other Writings. Cambridge: University Press, 1999.

[2] Freud describes transference as "...re-experiencing emotional relations which had their origin in…earliest object-attachments during the repressed period of…childhood." Sigmund Freud, The Freud Reader. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1989.

[3] For curious minds, the two pieces in question are Schönberg's Opus 33b and Schubert's Scherzo from the Sonata in A Major.

Image courtesy of the author.

Ex-Con Romance: Straight Time and Revanche

     A decade before his role in Rain Man, Dustin Hoffman played a tough-talking ex-con in Straight Time (1978). With a thick head of hair and a walk that means business, Hoffman’s character flirts with women, jokes with men, and ruthlessly attacks anyone who dares to disappoint him. Fresh off a six-year prison stint at the start of the film, Max tries to pick up a woman working at a head hunter agency. Dialogue, editing and costuming chart the rise and fall of the characters’ relationship throughout the film.

     Positioned in center of the frame as he takes a typing test at the head hunter agency, Max wears a beige jacket, crisp, white shirt, black tie and khakis. The protagonists’ attire and placement in the frame highlight the importance of his task. In order to go “straight,” Max must get a job. The woman proctoring his test, Jenny (Theresa Russell), grabs Max’s paper as he tries to keep typing after time has run out. Jenny’s assertive move reveals the woman is no push-over. Dialogue quickly signals a playful twist in their interaction. After Jenny’s boss reprimands her for a phone-related mishap, Max asks Jenny: “Does she really like you as much as she seems to?” Featured in a medium shot, Jenny laughs and says: “I guess so.”

     Though initially placed in separate shots, Max and Jenny are increasingly positioned in two shots as they converse. This change in editing features Max and Jenny as a unit, foreshadowing their eventual romantic relationship. Dialogue reveals Jenny’s acceptance of Max’s troubled past. When the protagonist admits he just got out of prison, Jenny asks: “And how long did you hold that position?” Smiling in a medium shot, Max replies: “Approximately six years – no vacations.” Natural lighting suggests the sincerity of the characters’ interaction. Max seals the deal when he boldly asks Jenny:  “If I get this job, can I celebrate by taking you to dinner?”

     Costuming reveals the effort the characters’ put in to their first date. Max wears brown jeans and a brown dress shirt with a hip pattern; Jenny wears a crisp blouse with tight-fitting bell bottoms. Dialogue also emphasizes the growing connection between Max and Jenny. The protagonist admits he often imagined a “scene just like this” while in prison. “I never thought I’d be sitting here with knots in my stomach,” he confesses. The lengthy take of Max discussing his jail time in a medium close-up showcases the man’s vulnerability as he opens up to Jenny.

     The ex-con proves he can make the most of any awkward situation. When Max doesn’t have enough to cover the tip for dinner, he tells Jenny: “I’ll make you a deal. If you’ll go out with me tomorrow night, I’ll let you help me.” A close-up shows the characters’ hands touching under the table as Jenny slips Max the money. Camerawork reveals that romance is in the air.  

     In a later scene, a following shot captures Max as he enters Jenny’s house and walks to her bedroom. The shot reveals a shift in the couple’s relationship. Casually entering Jenny’s home in the early morning after he has been out all night using her car, the ex-con proves he has all the power in the relationship.  While the close-ups and two shots during the couple’s ensuing sex scene suggest a strong sense of intimacy between the characters, their bond is clearly beginning to deteriorate.

     During their next interaction, the lovers are consistently featured in separate, medium long shots. The characters’ distance to the camera and to one another exposes their feelings of mistrust and detachment. That Max is drenched in sweat following his gun theft is a far cry from the fashionable way he was dressed during the couple’s first date. Max tells Jenny: “I’m doing what I do. If you can’t take it…then I’ll just walk out the door.”

     The long shot of Jenny vomiting by the side of the road after she hears of Max’s bloody bank robbery signals the end of their relationship. Max’s efforts to go “straight” have failed; the ex-con must leave Jenny behind and face the consequences of his latest crime.

     The protagonist (Alex) in Revanche (2008) may not have hair like Dustin Hoffman, but he does have two things in common with Max from Straight Time – he’s a tough-as-nails ex-con engaged in unhealthy relationships with women. At the start of the film, Alex (Johannes Krisch) is in love with a hooker, Tamara (Irina Potapenko). The characters are always framed by vertical lines – a doorway or the walls of a shower – during intimate scenes. These framing devices showcase the couple’s romantic acts as spectacles. This technique also makes viewers highly conscious that they are watching these spectacles.

     Early on in the film, natural lighting streams through the window while the couple eats pizza naked on Alex’s bed. The lighting and the characters’ state of undress emphasize the profound trust Alex and Tamara have in one another. However, Alex’s criminal past does influence the way he treats Tamara. At one point in the film, Alex points a gun at her face. She asks: “What is this?!’ He says: “It’s not loaded.” They repeat the exchange; Alex bursts out laughing the second time he says: “It’s not loaded.” Tamara slaps him. Alex responds by lifting her up and tossing her on the bed, repeating: “You were scared” as he keeps laughing. Dialogue demonstrates the man’s sadistic side.

     Alex’s assertive statements also reveal his arrogance at the start of the film. “Nothing can go wrong,” Alex assures Tamara of his plan to rob a bank. “I go in, they give me the money, and we split,” he says. Unfortunately, a cop accidentally kills Tamara as he fires at the couple’s car when they speed away from the bank. The second half of the film follows the disturbing relationship between Alex and the cop’s wife (Susanne).

     The ex-con repeatedly uses aggressive language with Susanne (Ursula Strauss). However, multiple long shots showcase the woman watching Alex chop wood at his grandfather’s farm. The protagonists warns her to stop coming to the farm and visiting his grandfather. “Cake, music, dance, tra-la-la. I don’t want it,” he says dismissively. The camera slowly zooms in as the characters face each other. Dialogue signals a major shift in their relationship. “Then come to my house,” Susanne counters. “I’ll be alone tonight,” she says softly.

     Their first sexual encounter highly contrasts those between Alex and Tamara. Neither character is completely naked; dim lighting and the dinner table they comingle on make their act devoid of any emotional significance. That their second sexual encounter occurs on the small bed in the woman’s unused nursery (she had a miscarriage) is quite unnerving. The characters’ naked bodies appear unnatural against the powder blue wall paper covered in yellow teddy bears.

     The final interaction between Alex and Susanne is structured in a shot/reverse/shot pattern. That the characters are featured in separate shots as Susanne finally learns of Alex’s involvement in the bank robbery is an ironic touch. Their lives couldn’t possibly be more intertwined, yet editing exposes the complete emotional disconnect between the two. As Susanne breaks off their fling, she asks Alex: “What will you do now?” Alex replies: “Stay here if they don’t catch me.” Their final conversation sets one thing straight. Susanne will keep Alex’s crime a secret, and the ex-con won’t be telling anyone about his affair with the married woman.  

Conflicting Desires: Romance and Revenge in Buffalo ’66 and The Long Memory

Early on in Buffalo ‘66 (1998), protagonist Billy Brown (Vincent Gallo) kidnaps a teenage girl, Leila (Christina Ricci), who has just finished a tap dance class. Billy explains to Leila that he has just been released from prison and needs her to pretend to be his wife once the pair arrives at Billy’s parents’ house. “If you make a fool outta me, I swear to god I’ll kill you right there,” he warns her. “But if you do a good job, well, then you can be my best friend – my best friend that I’ve ever had.”

Though Billy works hard to maintain the lie he has told his parents while in prison – that he went away to work as a top-notch government employee – the protagonist is even more determined to take revenge on Scott Woods, a former football player. Billy’s $10,000 bet on a Buffalo Bills game resulted in his being forced by a bookie to do five years of jail time for a crime he didn’t commit. Fresh out of prison, Billy naturally decides to kill the player whose failed touchdown cost the Bills the game. However, Billy’s bizarre but growing connection with Leila sidetracks the main character as he plans to take down Woods. A variety of filmic techniques demonstrate how Billy ultimately opts for romance over revenge.  

 From the start, camerawork reveals that Billy is far from being the romantic type. The high angle, extreme long shot as Billy exits the prison establishes the main character as a man isolated from the rest of the world. As Billy gives orders to Leila in the teen’s car, the two are featured in separate shots. Camerawork emphasizes the sense of detachment between the characters. Costuming, on the other hand, links pair as eccentrics.

 In the first scene of the film, Billy’s bright red boots stand out against the gray and white tones in the frame. The man’s unusual sense of style foreshadows his unpredictable behavior throughout the film. Leila’s outfit also establishes the girl as a misfit. Her powder blue eye shadow matches her low-cut, powder blue blouse and powder blue tights. Leila’s matchy-matchy outfit makes the teen appear just as attention-seeking as Billy does with his absurdly colorful shoes. On that level, the characters seem meant for one another.

 While dialogue in Buffalo ’66 initially suggests that Billy has all the power, some of Leila’s lines reveal that the teen is more defiant than expected. After the pair leaves Billy’s childhood home, Leila defends her performance as his wife. Billy snaps at her, convinced she overdid the whole routine. Leila stands up for herself, reminding her kidnapper that she didn’t choose to be a part of his games. “You kidnapped me. You pulled my hair, you threatened me,” she tells Billy. Leila’s assertive language ironically brings the two closer to one another.

 Later in the film, Billy discovers he’ll have to wait a few hours before Scott Woods will show up at his business. Billy has just hurt Leila’s feelings, and in a low-angle shot the protagonist apologizes and asks the teen if she wants to get a room somewhere and lie down with him for a while. Leila agrees, but once the two are in the car, Billy says he was just kidding about wanting to lie down with her. Leila boldly responds: “That’s too bad, because I was serious when I said I wanted to.”

 At this point in the film, the characters are increasingly featured in two-shots. The romantic jazz music playing during the hotel room scene emphasizes the growing level of intimacy between the characters. The lengthy take and high angle shot over the bed as Billy and Leila slowly hold hands and kiss does expose the awkwardness of their first sexual encounter. However, the medium shot and close-ups as the characters hug reveals the undeniable sexual chemistry between the two. By the time Billy reaches Scott Woods, quick cuts in the scene and an over-the-top, imaginary killing sequence reveal how illogical and unnecessary Billy’s revenge plan was. As Billy buys Leila a heart cookie before heading back to their motel room, the protagonist has made his decision – a romantic relationship with Leila clearly trumps taking revenge on a middle-aged, former athlete.

 While The Long Memory (1953) differs in many ways from Buffalo ’66, the film also tells the story of a man determined to get revenge on the people responsible for his incarceration. However, just as in Buffalo ’66, the main character’s priorities change once a captivating woman enters his life. At the beginning of The Long Memory, low-angle long shots expose Phillip Davidson (John Mills) as a lone wolf. Phillip has no patience for a newspaperman who enters his makeshift home and tries to ask questions. Phillip snaps at the man: “I don’t want any trouble! Now get out of here.”

 Hell-bent on killing the handful of people who wrongly sent him to prison, Phillip is often featured in separate shots from other characters. Camerawork proves that he has no interest in forging relationships with people in the small, coastal town he resides in. However, once Phillip enters the town pub, he spots a lovely woman mopping the floor. While the two are featured in different planes, they are still featured in the same shots during their encounter. This camerawork suggests that the characters are bound to grow more connected to one another by the end of the film.

 After Phillip protects Ilse (Eva Bergh) from being raped by a hooligan outside of the bar, the woman shows up at the protagonist’s house the next day. Ilse thanks Phillip repeatedly. However, the former prisoner’s harsh language reveals the man's unwillingness to be distracted from his revenge plans. “If I saw someone beating a dog I would try and stop them,” he tells her. Ilse insists that she would like to stay at his home, but Phillip refuses. However, as Ilse stands in the well-lit doorway, looking desperate and alone in a medium long shot, Phillip finally gives in and agrees to let her stay for the night.

 While Phillip repeatedly uses abrupt language with Ilse to try and convince her she cannot stay, the woman eventually wins him over. The neatly-made beds, vase full of flowers and clean table in Phillip’s makeshift home demonstrate how Ilse has converted the man's unorganized room into a comforting, domestic space. In addition to aspects of mise-en-scene, camerawork also exposes the increasing chemistry between Phillip and Ilse. Tightly-framed two-shots of the pair emphasize their close bond. Once positioned in separate shots or in different planes within a shot, the characters eventually are featured as an indestructible unit. By the end of the film, Phillip’s relationship with Ilse convinces the man that killing people from his past is no longer important to him. As Phillip says: “It’s funny. When you come to the point, revenge isn’t worth it.”

Ex-Con Romance: Sur me levres (Read My Lips) and A History of Violence

     Midway through Jacques Audiard’s Read My Lips, ex-con Paul (Vincent Cassel) tries to convince secretary Carla (Emmanuelle Devos) to help him pull off a major theft. When the woman resists the idea, Paul snaps: “Let’s cut the crap – just tell me what you want.” Carla tells Paul she won’t participate in his plan unless he comes back to the office and continues to be her assistant. “Take it or leave it,” she says defiantly.

      An equally aggressive interaction occurs in the second half of David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence. After discovering that her husband lived a life of crime in Philly and changed his name before marrying her, Edie (Maria Bello) asks him: “What are you?! Like some multiple personality schizoid?!” Her husband, Tom (Viggo Mortensen), says he assumed his dark past and former name (Joey Cusack) were behind him. He replies helplessly: “I never expected to see Joey again.”  

     The tough words Carla and Edie use during these moments reveal critical turning points in both Read My Lips and A History of Violence. Both films feature a significant exchange of values between a former criminal and a woman on the right side of the law. Carla and Edie start out as trusting and kind; exposure to their partners’ threatening ways inspires the women to become assertive, outspoken and even violent. Although Paul and Tom resort to violence frequently throughout the films, the men ultimately become more sensitive and aware of their actions than ever before. A variety of filmic techniques reveal the considerable behavioral shifts that occur between the lovers in both films.

      Dialogue exposes the great divide between Paul and Carla early on in Read My Lips. During their first meeting after Paul has been hired at the office, Carla asks Paul why he hasn’t worked for two years. Paul admits: “I was in Fleury. Doing time.” Natural lighting makes Carla look especially innocent as she asks: “What kind of time?” Baffled by her question, Paul responds contemptuously: “Time Magazine. I was in jail! Are you shitting me?”

      Multiple point-of-view shots from Carla’s perspective as she stares at Paul making copies showcase the nearly-deaf woman’s growing fascination with her co-worker. Tight framing during two-shots of the characters suggests that their lives are becoming more and more intertwined. After Carla provides Paul with living quarters and an advance on his paycheck, the ex-con makes a move that permanently alters their relationship.

      In a medium long shot with natural light streaming through Paul’s apartment, the man gropes and kisses Carla. Startled and scared, Carla tries to defend herself as Paul forces her onto a countertop. Her girlish hair clip and modest clothing convey how inappropriate Paul’s advances are. Carla breaks free before Paul can harm her. She may be attracted to Paul, but her reaction suggests Carla wants their relationship to blossom on her terms.

      Paul’s violent move has surprising consequences. Carla forces Paul to steal files that will ensure her upward mobility at the firm. Paul, in turn, makes Carla read the lips of thugs he intends to steal from. Partners in crime, Paul and Carla are increasingly featured in two shots. A birthday party scene exposes the sexual chemistry between the couple. Soft, Latin music in the background hints that romance is in the air. The camera zooms in to position the pair in a close-up, emphasizing the growing connection between the two. “Can you take my hand?” she asks him. He pulls her to his chest, asking softly: “Do we get to smooch?” That he asks the question instead of simply planting a kiss stresses his emerging respect for and tenderness toward Carla.

      A club scene in the film showcases Carla’s ability to make Paul jealous. A point-of-view shot from Paul’s perspective of Carla wearing a fashionable outfit and flirting with two guys proves that the ex-con wants the woman to himself. “Are you done?” Paul asks her. Carla pretends she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Paul’s protective side is soon revealed as he beats up a guy who has tried to rape Carla in the club’s parking lot. Positioned in a two-shot with his arm around her, Paul says: “It’s okay. It’s over.” The club sequence summarizes the exchange of values that occurs during the film – Carla has become more confident and Paul has become both caring and considerate.

       The behavioral shifts that occur between Edie and Tom in A History of Violence take place under very different circumstances. Frequently positioned in two-shots with romantic, tranquil music playing, the spouses appear to be very much in love. Edie’s high school cheerleader outfit during the couple’s first intimate scene reveals the passionate, surprise-filled nature of the couple’s sex life. “You’re naughty,” Tom says playfully. Long takes during the scene emphasize the couple’s incredibly strong bond.

      However, Edie’s discovery of Tom’s dark past significantly changes the way the couple communicates with one another. Edie’s firsthand view of Tom’s violent behavior makes the woman both frightened and repulsed by her husband. The partners are increasingly positioned in separate shots; morose, slightly haunting music plays during the couple’s heated arguments. As Edie becomes more and more disgusted by her husband, the woman also becomes more verbally assertive with him. The normally composed and respectful Edie uses profanity and raises her voice.

      The couple’s violent sex on their staircase reveals the increasingly disturbing nature of their relationship. Quick cuts exaggerate the pain the partners experience as they shift around on the steps. Close-ups of different parts of their bodies reveal the wild, animalistic nature of their rough sex. The unnerving music that plays during the scene is a far cry from the peaceful score that accompanied the couple’s morning car rides together. However, that Edie pushes her husband off of her at the end of their act suggests that the woman may still have some control in the relationship.

      The rest of Tom’s violent actions in the film are geared toward protecting his family and himself. However, the former criminal still experiences a reawakening that may finally put an end to his violent impulses. Having killed off everyone tied to his former life, Tom washes his face and upper body in the lake by his brother’s mansion. Natural lighting and the high angle shot long shot of Tom kneeling as he washes himself suggest that the man understands he has hit rock bottom. By purifying himself, Tom clearly hopes his family will accept him again.

      During the dinner table scene as Tom returns to his home, the lengthy shots of his family members staring in his direction reveal their genuine desire to be close with him again. The tears running down Tom’s face reveal the man’s shame and vulnerability. The shot/reverse/shot pattern between Edie and her husband suggests that the spouses believe their relationship is worth repairing.

Sex, Sexuality, and the Future of the Body in Film

Sex sells. Everything. Period. So why should films be any different? Recently, popular films have taken an inventive approach on sex and sexuality.  However, how far is too far?

In the past ten years, several high profile films have explored the border between pornography, sexuality, and art.  Destricted (2006), for example, is a collection of seven short films with each director developing their own views on sex and pornography.

Another popular film directed by Lars Von Trier, AntiChrist (2009), after premiering at Cannes, split critics into two camps.  Some hailed it as a beautiful piece of art exploring fundamental issues of mankind while others called it needlessly graphic, a disgusting piece of work.  Every image of sex in AntiChrist is, however, tainted.  The film opens on the characters He and She having sexual intercourse while their son dies nearby. From there on, the film deals with female sexuality as the female character, played by Charlotte Gainsbourg, becomes wild, primal, the unrestrained facet of female sexuality. Von Trier gives us shocking images of female genital mutilation, full on penetration, as well as extreme scenes of sexual violence from the female character to the male.  What makes both the violence as well as sexual scenes work in this film is that they lack the titillation or designer violence often scene in other films. They are simply there, integral to life.   

Perhaps one of the most explicit films, Shortbus (2006) follows the separated yet integrated stories of Sofia, James and Jamie, Severin, and Caleb.   Shortbus looks at human sexuality and its various forms, complexities and problems. Eventually, all of these characters make their way to Shortbus, an adult only playground. Even with copious amounts of sex, director John Cameron Mitchell’s film still holds an almost innocent and a happy idealism.  The characters use sex as a way for communication and healing.  Whether it’s Sofia finally reaching an orgasm or James struggling to let others in emotionally, sex becomes both a frustration and therapeutic.  The sex is imbedded within the narrative and sex is just the vehicle.  While pure might not be the best of words, sweet definitely fits the shoe.

With the popularity of exploring sexuality, it is only inevitable to see more and more films experimenting.  Movies like All About Anna, 9 Songs, Ken Park, and Anatomie de l’enfer pop up more and more every day. At the same time, the past leaves us plenty of films to check out too; Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song, Une vraie jeune fille, In the Realm of Senses, and The Idiots to name a few.  In the end, these films prove there can be no limits, no barriers to good films.  If the narrative is first and first most, then yes, sex is just another tool in the filmmaker’s toolbox.

Taboo: Sex & Violence (Josh)

Sex and violence are two things that have come to pervade our society, especially through film.

During the Pre-Hays Code (a code regulating "decency" in film) and Studio Eras of Hollywood, directors were dissuaded from using sexual or violent images and themes.  However, as time wore on, people grew more open and restless.  Writers started pushing the limits with dialogue including things like the famous double entendres of Mae West (Mae West Quotes) and emerging gore and violence of B movies.

After the mid-50s, a “moral decline” ensued around the globe.  The Code faded away.  Overseas, filmmaking started to pick up.  Auteurs of the French New Wave began using nudity, violence, and sexuality, among other things, as elements in their films.  A film like Alain Resnais’ Hiroshima, Mon Amour (1959) was controversial at the time for its intimate love scene.  Jean-Luc Godard is famous for gratuitous sex and violence.  In Pierrot le fou (1965) he uses nudity in the opening scene for no significant reason to the plot.  One of his most famous films, Weekend (1967), features a scene in which the leading lady talks about a very strange ménage a trois in great detail, a camp of cannibals, and an off screen killing complete with, literally, buckets of fake blood splashing into frame.

The 60s “free love” generation would, of course, bring about much more sex in films.  Those like Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow Up (1966) feature beautiful women parading around on screen and a sex scene with multiple partners.  A Swedish film, I Am Curious (Yellow), was banned in the US upon its release in 1967 for its depiction of full frontal nudity of both sexes and scenes of simulated intercourse.  Americans must have been privately coming to terms with the taboo of sex by this time because it soon became the highest grossing foreign film for decades.  American filmmakers began to get more adventurous.  An early film that tested the waters (and was later remade in 1997) was Stanley Kubrick’s version of the Vladimir Nabokov tale Lolita (1962).  The film gained a great deal of negative press for the way it portrayed the relationship between a young girl and an older man.  Kubrick was actually forced to re-edit the film a number of times to prevent it from receiving an X-rating.  Midnight Cowboy (1969) was a film that garnered controversy as well for its representation of male prostitution, sex, and homosexuality, but it was the first X-rated film (later downgraded to R) to be voted Best Picture.

Peter Bogdanovich made waves with his The Last Picture Show (1971) that many considered obscene (a nude teen pool party among the reasons), although it was nominated for 8 Oscars (won 2).  And films like The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and John Waters’ Pink Flamingos (1972) took fetishism, decency, and sexuality to a whole new frontier.

Violence came to the forefront as well during the 60s and 70s.  Bonnie and Clyde (1967) was controversial for its romanticism of violence and crime.  Kubrick again made a splash in 1971 with his famous A Clockwork Orange based on the Anthony Burgess novel.  It clearly portrayed a dystopia devoid of morals and openly displayed phallic images, nudity, extreme acts violence, and rape (famously performed while crooning “Singin’ in the Rain”).  The emergence of horror films, grindhouse flicks, and slasher movies started like 1974’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre glorified violence and presented an immense amount of gore.  Many other popular films of the time explored sexuality and violence, for example, Taxi Driver, Scarface, and Dirty Harry. 

The 80s brought on films like Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982), Risky Business (1983), and Fatal Attraction (1987).  Nudity became less taboo – and worked its way much more into the teen comedy, an emerging genre - and a film like sex, lies, and videotape (1989) (which contained no nudity) talked about sex explicitly. (Won the Palme d’Or at Cannes) 

David Lynch’s memorable Blue Velvet (1986) showed that times had changed by the late 80s.  The story starts with a severed ear.  From there it delves into heightened sexuality and extreme depictions of violence clashing against a “typical middle American town”.  Kyle McLachlan (now of Sex and the City fame) is forced to undress at knifepoint.  He is then instructed to hit Isabella Rossellini for sadomasochistic pleasure.  Dennis Hopper’s disturbing character (although many think he is just playing himself) physically and sexually abuses Rossellini, as well.  She shows up naked on his front lawn towards the end of the film covered in black and blues. 

Tarantino came on the scene in the early 90s with Reservoir Dogs (1992) which showed criminals at work.  One scene included the detaching of an ear (apparently a common theme during this period – see also The Big Lebowski) to the tune of Stealers Wheel’s hit “Stuck in the Middle With You”.   Tarantino also gave us Pulp Fiction (1994) with extreme violence, sex, and the rape of Ving Rhames.  The 1995 film Kids drew heat for showing simulated sex scenes between underage actors, but this new generation of filmmakers was determined to portray blossoming sexuality.  Boogie Nights (1997) touched on the porn industry of a few decades prior with simulated sex/masturbation scenes.  1998 brought the world Happiness, which was considered repulsive by critics for its depiction of perversion, pedophilia, and masturbation.  Kubrick’s last film (yes, he loves taboos), Eyes Wide Shut (1999) showed a group of masked elite who participate in many different sexual encounters with each other including orgys, various sexual positions, and an off screen gang rape.

The 2001 film L.I.E. (Paul Dano’s debut) touched on the topics of homosexuality and pedophilia.  That same year Alfonso Cuaron’s Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001) contained several sexual scenes, many explicit.  A threesome with 2 heterosexual males is presented delving into the realm of sexual identity.  The Brown Bunny (2003) has been one of the most controversial films regarding sex in recent years.  It tests the boundary between art film and pornography with its unsimulated sexual scenes.  Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005) looked at sexuality in teens and pre-teens.  2 boys (12 and 14) and 2 girls (mid-late teens) learn about the world of sex through different means.  It also explored love and sexuality in the internet age (for a different take on this - see also Hard Candy)

And (this film deserves a separate category) John Cameron Mitchell’s Shortbus (2006) covered just about every sexual topic you could think of in this film.  It tells the tale of emotionally-challenged post 9/11 New Yorkers looking for a connection.  The use of extended unsimulated sex scenes, among other elements, led to it being described as the “most explicit” film ever screened in the history of the Cannes film festival.

The taboos of the past century have been exploited and exhibited by film.  Many say this has desensitized our culture to them, but they educate (and sometimes over-educate) the world to things that are really out there.  Maybe not as extreme as presented in films, but it opens the public's eyes to the world around them.