pornography

Absolute Erotic, Absolute Grotesque: The Living, Dead, and Undead in Japan's Imperialism, 1895-1945

caitlin — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

Mark Driscoll, an associate professor of Japanese and International Studies at the University of North Carolina, here presents a very thorough reassessment of Japanese imperialism of Asia in the first half of the twentieth century. Driscoll focuses his attention on the fringes of the colonized Asian peoples, writing about the Chinese coolies, Korean farmers, Japanese pimps and trafficked women of various Asian nationalities that moved Japan's empire along and provided the behind-the-scenes energy that created such an empire. Japan's rise to a capitalist power—and its expansion of its empire—is identified by Driscoll as happening in three distinct phases, each marked by exploitation of people, land, life, and labor: biopolitics, neuropolitics, and necropolitics.

Driscoll's reading of biopolitics as it applies to Japanese imperialism and capitalism is the same as Michel Foucault's: faire vivir (improving life) and laisser mourir (letting die off). Biopolitics most often involves public health, disease prevention, maternity clinics, and hygiene campaigns. It directly ties in to the concept of laissez-faire capitalism, its aim being for some lives to be improved and for others to be left to fare for themselves. In neuropolitics, the exploited worker in the capitalist society has a life that no longer belongs to him but to the object into which he puts his life (often his job); therefore, he must try to buy back his own life in the form of “commodity substitutes.” (Think of Fight Club and its message of “the things you own end up owning you.”) Citizens in a neuropolitical state are “shocked into stupefaction,” and then tricked into buying a “second life” back from the capitalist regime in the form of consumable goods. Necropolitics, the third phase of Japan's capitalist imperial expansion, is defined as the state in which workers, forced laborers, and colonized persons are aware of the constant threat of omnipresent death, and perceive life as a constant struggle against this threat of death. The imperialistic powers over the colonized peoples subjugate their lives with the power of death.

Absolute Erotic, Absolute Grotesque is a highly fascinating book, though occasionally dry and academic. This is no fault of the writer or subject matter, but simply my own Western/Caucasian mind not having these lingual-neural pathways, but I had trouble keeping up with the many Asian names sprinkled liberally throughout the text. There is plenty in here to intrigue those with an interest in twentieth century world politics, Marxism, sex workers, the failures of capitalism, the deplorable treatment of women in war conditions, poverty, gender, race, political corruption, and the swift rise and fall of empires. Driscoll also covers pornography and drugs in Japan's colonization of Asia, and includes some grisly photographs from “erotic-grotesque” magazines, the idea of these being that the two concepts were not so different from one another.

Written by: Natalie Ballard, December 4th 2010

Daniel & Ana

admin — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Directed by Michel Franco

Alameda Films

Daniel & Ana is an opinion piece, the film equivalent of an op-ed. While it is a forgone assumption that a film will represent the opinion of its authors and that every film necessarily adopts a particular point-of-view on its subjects, Daniel & Ana endorses a position.

Daniel & Ana assumes an expository stance, occupying the characters lives in an effort to discuss an issue bigger than they are. This film discusses underground pornography; the analysis is not on the macro level of an industry or the societal impact of the industry on Mexico, but rather on the micro level, this is a case study of this particular pair of siblings.

The course of the film follows the older sister Ana, as she prepares for her wedding, and trails the younger brother Daniel as he exists, for the most part, in his sister’s wake. For most of the film, their relationship is relatively normal. When the siblings begin behaving oddly, their parents suspect nothing, seeing the strains in the siblings’ relationship as a result of the wedding, and nothing more. Ana and Daniel are nothing if not predictable.

While Ana is the central character, the film revolving most directly around the events in her life (despite the parallel surveillance of Daniel), she is not fully formed as a character. Ana is object more than she is subject. Not only is Ana objectified as a sightly woman throughout: not only by the comments of Daniel’s friend saying that she is doable and of the cameraman for the porno saying she is hot; not only by her rape which is a sort of ultimate objectification; but, by the movie itself, by the shallow presentation of her character. In this film Ana is only ever acted upon. As dutiful sister, daughter, and girlfriend, she only causes concern when she temporarily cancels the wedding. The wedding sets the tone of the piece, it determines what is normal, what roles each character is to play, and what behaviors are acceptable. Ana reinstates the wedding in a search for refuge; the wedding is a return to normalcy and an escape from everything else. Everything will end with the wedding.

Written by: Elisheva Zakheim, August 27th 2010

Brilliantlove

admin — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 09:30:00 +0000

Directed by Ashley Horner

Pinball Films

Manchester is taking a photograph of his girlfriend Noon. She’s asleep. He develops the film while she naps and goes outside to lay on a dingy blanket on the gravel driveway that leads to their makeshift garage-turned-apartment. Did she consent to being documented? No one seems to care. When Noon wakes up, she goes outside naked and has sex with Manchester in broad daylight.

A seemingly enviable hipster couple sequestered from the world in their own squalid little space, it doesn’t take long for things to go south. While Noon stays home preparing taxidermy birds, Manchester gets drunk at a local pub and leaves behind his snapshots of her nudity, their lovemaking. Found a bit too conveniently by a local art dealer who then spends an inordinate amount of time tracking the couple down, Manchester’s amateur, low-light snaps are sold and catapult him to fame, complete with praise for his non-technique—“just a willing girlfriend,” he insists. Not surprisingly, their idyllic, secluded, grungy love is ruined by Manchester’s brush with fame and having their privacy traded as consumable art.

Based on the filmmakers’ obsession with objectifying Noon’s ass in every possible shot, with making her the sexual object in nearly every supposedly erotic scene, it’s painfully obvious that the production team is almost exclusively comprised of men. Should the audience be pleased to see female masturbation, so rarely depicted in film, or should we be revolted by the popsicle prop in one scene, that Noon is accidentally hit in the face with the camera during sex, that physical pleasure seems to trump self respect? Brilliantlove isn’t so much a meditation on love, desire, and intimacy as it is degrading soft-core porn with a bit of art world skepticism thrown in for good measure.

I also have to wonder whether this is just a hipster wet dream. Does someone think, "I can just leave these trashy photos in a bar and find fame?" At a time when it’s hard enough to control any aspect of your privacy, I’m so unbelievably unimpressed by the lack of ethics, trust, and respect displayed by Manchester. I also wonder why, within a framework of already shaky ethics, Manchester’s consent was sought at all, or why these photos weren’t just uploaded to the Internet (which is striking absent from the film, as is bathing, eating, and pre-porn employment). Brilliantlove could have been really interesting. It could have relied on actual character development, on normalizing passion, on queering the perceived normalcy of (hetero)sexual relationships. For many, there’s obviously a big difference between sex and love, and my issue is not with this dichotomy. Rather, this is just one more film made by an all-male team unwilling (or unable) to depict thoughtful, engaging intimacy between two enthusiastic, willing partners.

Both my male partner and I were genuinely disgusted while watching it, barely able to force ourselves to finish it; desperate to cleanse our mental palates, we popped in an innocuous film to chase the memory of this damaging one. If disliking this film makes me sex-negative or some other hip third wave feminist label I deem more judgmental than useful, so be it. This film is a voyeuristic, hedonistic, male gaze fuck fest. Watch at your own risk.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, August 17th 2010

Hugh Hefner: Playboy, Activist and Rebel

admin — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 08:01:00 +0000

Directed by Brigitte Berman

Metaphor Films

The documentary Hugh Hefner: Playboy, Activist and Rebel aims to rise above traditional pit stops of jiggles and giggles while recounting the tale of Playboy Magazine’s founder and editorial icon. This is an investigation into a man who consistently pushed the envelope in the name of freedom; a gentleman baffled by repression, who sensed an incredible opportunity to create a magazine that catered to the curious and the liberal, personifying a sexual revolution that lasted for decades. Yes, there’s nudity and plenty of footage exploring the heyday of Playboy parties, but the picture is more concerned with the man behind the ears, who built an empire while changing the world.

Chicago-bred Hugh M. Hefner, scraping together loans and favors, published the first issue of Playboy in 1953, using well known but little seen nude pictures of Marilyn Monroe as a hook to bring readers into a world of sophistication. The magazine took off like a rocket, with Hefner firmly in command; a control freak who pored over every last detail of the publication, firmly believing what he was putting out monthly was a critical tool in releasing America from the grips of destructive, conservative thinking. Employing some of the brightest minds and the softest bodies, Hefner built a kingdom with Playboy that still stands today, over five controversial decades later.

Hugh Hefner: Playboy, Activist and Rebel recounts the less illuminated side of Hefner, beyond the pajamas, blondes, and pipes. Director Brigitte Berman seeks out the history of Hefner as an activist and philosopher, who used Playboy as a vessel to challenge mores and promote liberation during America’s darkest periods. Playboy wasn’t solely about skin, but a platform for ideas, with Hefner employing authors such as Alex Haley and Ray Bradbury when publishers turned their backs, or using the pages for his own thoughts on the repressed state of the union. Starting with Playboy’s introduction to the newsstand, the documentary sets off on a vast journey of illustration, with film footage and Hef’s own scrapbooks covering the vicissitudes of Playboy, which soon became a number one target for censorship by anyone looking to set a volatile example for the media.

While scattered at times, Berman colors her subject wonderfully, sitting down with Hefner as he recalls his battles with a certain world-weary creak. Interviews with friends, commentators, and contemporaries (including Gene Simmons, Jenny McCarthy, Mike Wallace, and Bill Maher) fill out the discussion some, while the director also makes room for Hef’s detractors, including Susan Brownmiller, a feminist author who retains distaste for the Playboy mastermind decades after their rather combustible debate on The Dick Cavett Show. The conversations look to expand Hefner past his reputation, shedding light on his drive to combat racial tension during the ‘60s and ‘70s (erasing color lines on his popular television programs and inside the Playboy Clubs), his troubles with the law facing trumped-up charges that sought to destroy his reputation, and his arc from panty-twirling revolutionary to pariah as the 1980s ushered in a conservative, religiously rigid era that didn’t show much patience for the Playboy lifestyle.

Hugh Hefner: Playboy, Activist and Rebel is certainly reverent of Hefner’s cultural accomplishments, delivering a convincing argument with a smooth, efficient visual style that combines talking heads with insider footage and a few splashes of animation. The documentary does a swell job positioning Hugh Hefner in a different light, showcasing the man’s forward-thinking ideals and his hopeless addictions (love being a major failure in his life), while stripping away the glamour to find a sensitive, concerned core. At eighty-four years of age, Hugh Hefner has boxed himself into a cartoon reputation of sorts with the success of The Girls Next Door, but here he’s offered the chance to reignite his passion for life though conversation, and there’s no better boat captain of memories and accomplishments around.

Written by: Brian Orndorf, August 2nd 2010

Gurlesque: The New Grrly, Grotesque, Burlesque Poetics

admin — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Edited by Lara Glenum, Arielle Greenberg

Saturnalia Books

The problem with books with two introductions is that one can inevitably doom the other and, at worst, the entire book. This just might be the case with the contra(dictory)dance of introductions to the anthology Gurlesque, edited by poets Lara Glenum and Arielle Greenberg. According to Glenum, Gurlesue poetry “assaults the norms of acceptable female behavior by irreverently deploying gender stereotypes to subversive ends.” Both editors relate this poetry to cultural movements like riot grrrl, burlesque, kitsch, camp, and more.

For Greenberg, Gurlesque is “not a movement or a camp or a clique.” (Okay, so what is it then?) It is “just something [she] saw...born of black organza witch costumes and the silver worn-out sequins mashed between scratchy pink tutu netting and velvet unicorn paintings and arena rock ballads…” Her list continues and is reminiscent of the sub/counter culture detritus that has wound up at mall stores like Hot Topic. I really wanted to love the idea of Gurlesque and was looking forward to some in-depth and sophisticated rendering. Unfortunately, Greenberg sounds like a chatty scenester at a party, making the anthology seem little more than a self-serving, self-validating effort.

Luckily, Glenum’s introduction is more intellectually sound and includes some interesting theory; however, both seem resistant to lay any more than spotty groundwork about what Gurlesque is or isn’t, at the same time that they see the selected poems as being exemplary of this “idea”. From Greenberg: “Being in this anthology doesn’t mean anything about the poets in particular: we are just trotting these poems out on our sideshow stage because of what we see in them.” And from Glenum: “I am not insisting that this genealogy forms a common knowledge base for Gurlesque poets…I intend the above merely as a loose sketch of aesthetic tendencies and impulses, an artistic and theoretical heritage from which the Gurlesque draws its manifold, relentless energies.” Yet wouldn’t the artifact of the anthology prove more than a loose sketch?

So what about the actual poetry? What does Gurlesque poetry look and read like? I asked a poet friend who said “pile on the cum, pile on the vomit, heap on the porn.” Poet Ariana Reines doesn’t disappoint with lines like “First he spit on my asshole and then start in with a middle finger and then the cock slid in no sound come out only a maw gaping, grind hard into ground.” While this might seem like a performance of pornographic crassness, it could be seen (and I tease this from the Exoskeleton poetry blog) as skillfully employing the savvy irony of our cultural moment: self-consciously using played out shock-for-shock’s sake.

These aren’t easy poems to read. They aren’t your grandmother’s poems, and they aren’t Hallmark greeting card poems. They aren’t like most poems you would read in a book grabbed off the shelf in Barnes & Nobles, or even the library. If you make it through the bric-a-brac of the introductions, you get a good sense of some very new and innovative (if not all that good or likable) poetics.

Readers might be jarred by Chelsey Minnis’ excessive use of ellipses, to the point of frustration. The visual disorientation of the work gives the reader the sense that so much else is going on around and outside the poems, they become part of a much wider extended dialogue in which the reader is invited to imagine the activity in the pauses. Excerpts from Geraldine Kim’s “Povel” recalibrate our sense of poetry, prose, and the quotable. Lines like “I was barn./I was razed./I was mot this flame with no’s sum else blue’s blame noir yearning down the house” from Heidi Lynn Staple’s “Fonder a Care Kept” are going to test even the most adept readers of contemporary poetry.

There is a great deal of variety in this anthology, and as a woman of color, while I was happy to see Asian American women represented, I was strongly disappointed by the apparent lack of work by African American, Latina, or Native American women. While I suppose it is possible (though unlikely) that such women of color aren’t writing Gurlesque, it seems more plausible that when it depends on one’s field of vision that this is an effect of “just something I saw.”

Written by: L, June 2nd 2010

Seven Minutes in Heaven: Coming Out!

admin — Thu, 20 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Courtney Trouble

Reel Queer Productions

Courtney Trouble, the creator of Seven Minutes in Heaven: Coming Out!, is one of the hottest new directors of queer porn. After creating No Fauxxx in March 2002—a website with 150 models, twenty videos, and a free social networking community—Trouble started making full-length queer porn videos. She has also been in a few porn films herself, which she says adds to her respect for those in front of the camera. To date, she has ten feature films available.

Seven Minutes in Heaven is the first film of a three-part series of “reality porn,” unscripted amateur porn where the participants get to choose partners, sex toys, and chat about their experiences. It is set up like a wild slumber party night, with scenes being fueled by those timeless junior high games, spin the bottle and truth or dare, though these versions definitely end up in a lot less awkward and a lot sexier scenarios then making out sloppily in a closet! The truth or dare sequence leads to some brief food play and some of the hottest group sex scenes in the film. Seven Minutes in Heaven was nominated, like many of Trouble's films, for the 2010 Feminist Porn Awards.

I liked the parts where participants talked about their experiences or discussed certain issues, like sucking cock and having it be your first time in a porn, although at times the conversations dragged on a little long and were a bit too reminiscent of the familiar reality television confessionals, leaving a viewer feeling like they want the action to get going already! A lot of new queer porn films, including this one, have real musicians add to the soundtrack, which I think is a cool idea in theory. Seven Minutes in Heaven included Purple Rhinestone Eagle, Jenna Riot, DJ European DJ, and Diamond Beats. However, when it comes down to it, I don't generally feel like there truly is good porn music. The way I see it, if you barely notice it, that's probably the best. This soundtrack, at times, sounded pretty riot grrrlish, though that might be a turn-on for some!

The inclusion of S&M and kink was prevalent throughout, though pretty mild with some role play, flogging, gagging, fisting, and a few moments of knife play. There was definitely a lot of use of sex toys, mainly vibrators; a crop; and a good amount of dildo use for some steamy fucking and lessons on sucking. Many times there were multiple scenes going on at the same time, though you could only hear or get a glimpse of the indirect scenes, which definitely spiced things up.

Though the cast wasn't super diverse, it is always refreshing when there is a variety of real-sized bodies. Also of note was the use of safer sex; gloves and condoms were utilized throughout. Since there is generally not a lot of sex education oriented towards queers, I was glad to see a film where it encourages the notion that safe sex can be both easy to do and not make sex play any less erotic.

Seven Minutes in Heaven: Coming Out! has a lot to offer, and scenes get better and better as the film progresses and the participants get more comfortable with each other. Watching this film certainly made me very curious to explore Courtney Trouble's other films. If they are as appealing as this one, I would say she deserves all the credit she has coming her way.

Written by: Lesley Kartali, May 20th 2010

Getting Real: Challenging the Sexualisation of Girls

admin — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Edited by Melinda Tankard Reist

Spinifex Press

Getting Real is a collection of essays that are charges against the worldwide phenomena of the pornification of childhood through advertising, marketing, and pop culture. This was a great book to read, particularly as the authors are Australian and I sometimes wonder how much of our collective reaction to porn and adult images going mainstream is a reflection of our country's Puritanical leanings. For the contributors to Getting Real, the problem is embedded not just in faux-feminism but also a twisting of feminism by marketers and others to make women believe that if they are "in charge" of their sexuality, then there isn't anything wrong with stripping, making out with other women to turn men on, and so forth.

About half way through the book I came across a few statements that made me think, "Wait a minute...This isn't a feminist book!" There's just a tinge of anti-sex sentiment in some essays. So I did some investigating and found that editor Melinda Tankard Reist is part of a women's think tank. Upon further digging, I came to the conclusion that the Women's Forum Australia seems to be what one might get if the National Organization for Women and the Independent Women's Forum had a lefty baby. (If anyone has more information about them, I'd love for you to leave it in the comments.)

While some essays wade into slut-shaming and defaming strippers and sex workers, on the whole Getting Real is a pretty good book. One eye-opening essay on street billboards makes the point that even though it is illegal for people to have porn in the workplace, we have to walk through porn-infested streets on a daily basis. Another essay brought up how many of us are using Flickr and YouTube to share our children's lives, which teaches them to perform publicly. There is also a discussion about the medicalization of girls' bodies. From HPV vaccines to plastic surgery, it's all there to ponder.

The best part of Getting Real was learning a new term: corporate pedophilia. "Sexualizing products being sold specifically for children, and children themselves being presented in images or directed to act in advertisements in ways modeled on adult sexual behavior." This goes far beyond the dress-up of our youth to performance on a daily basis. "The task for today's teenagers is to win back their freedom from the adults who run the advertising agencies and girls magazines and the 'sex-positive' media academics who insist that 'bad girls' are powerful girls."

The essays are well cited, but avoid a lot of academic jargon, making Getting Real a quick read. The book is feminist, but with a dash of moderate conservatism thrown in. The topic brings together some typically opposing forces, and that's always good for the discussion.

Cross-posted from Viva La Feminista

Written by: Veronica I. Arreola, April 27th 2010

Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch/Femme Erotica

admin — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Edited by Tristan Taormino

Cleis Press

So, I sometimes forget that reading erotica and looking at BDSM queer porn in the library of an Ivy League university is not necessarily standard practice. Lucky for me, I go to Brown, where I’m concentrating in Gender and Sexuality studies, and have somehow managed to legitimize studying sex manuals with postmodern theory in order to (supposedly, so they say) get a degree next year. Along with my academic studies and personal intrigues, I am also active with various events and groups on campus explicitly related to sexuality, so am known on campus for… well, let’s just say, when I pulled out Tristan Taormino’s Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch/Femme Erotica in the middle of the bustling Science Library lobby during the mad rush of studying for midterms, I got simply passing (mostly jealous) chuckles from friends venturing down into the depths of the stacks with unread textbooks in their arms.

This exciting collection of twenty-three stories is edited by author, director, and educator Tristan Taormino, and is a part of the Best Lesbian Erotica series, which has won three Lambda Awards. Cleis Press, who published the book, focuses on queer sexualities, putting out various sex guides, gender/queer theory texts, and works of fiction.

As the publisher notes, Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch/Femme Erotica is about “dispelling myths, realizing fantasies, and delivering outstanding writing with distinct contributor voices.” In the introduction, Taormino expresses the desire to “queer gender throughout the spectrum,” viewing gender as multilayered, constantly changing, and problematizing the reductionist and prescriptive discourses around butch/femme identities:

Butch/femme is bulging jeans, smeared lipstick, stiletto heels, and sharp haircuts. It’s about being read and being seen. Sometimes it’s about passing or not passing. It’s about individual identity and a collective sense of community. It’s personal, political. It’s performance and it’s not. It’s the visceral space between the flesh and the imagination.

The stories focus on the separation and convergence of the personal and the political, the body and fantasy, and address some examples of what really goes on in bed between self-identified butches and femmes. As a new reader of butch/femme lesbian erotica, I was surprised about the diversity of relationships, identities and desires, and found that while some of it was a real turn-on for me, others not so much. But that is okay. In the end, the appeal of the collection is about the confidence and attitude that exudes from the authors as they own their own identity expressions, desires, and pursuits of pleasure.

Written by: Abigail Chance, April 26th 2010

Variety

admin — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 09:00:00 +0000

Directed by Bette Gordon

Kino International

Christine is desperately seeking employment. She doesn’t want to leave New York City and return to Michigan to teach, and doesn’t feel confident that her writing will bring in sufficient income. Although Christine’s story is happening in 1983, the same story could be told as a result of today’s recession. What do you do when you can’t find a job in your field? Well, you branch out and find the first job available.

It turns out that the first available job is as a ticket holder in a box office at an adult theater in Times Square. A few days after she begins the job, Christine meets her boyfriend Mark at a diner for lunch. He is a reporter focused on finding the connection between an organized crime group and the fisherman’s union. Christine listens politely to the details of his investigation and then reveals her new job to him.

Excitedly, she begins to describe the atmosphere of the Variety theater. Her clients are lonely and depressed, for the most part, but some are business men. She assures Mark that she never works alone. She works with the ticket holder, Jose, a vividly entertaining Luis Guzman. The theater smells of Lysol, and a lot of the chairs are broken. Christine is taken by surprise when Mark abruptly states that he has to leave, and that he will call her.

Most of the human interaction in Variety happen in this manner. One person is talking, one is listening. One person is being watched, the other is watching. Half of what we learn about Christine is relayed through answering machine messages. Relationships don’t appear to be reciprocal, and Christine’s actions don’t appear to be guided by a goal or even a particular interest. While Christine becomes interested in adult film and literature throughout the course of the film, it is unclear whether this interest is a result of an already existing curiosity she held, or if she is simply becoming more knowledgeable about her new line of work.

Variety offers thought provoking material for a feminist. Are relationships ever reciprocal, or equal? Are women empowered or degraded (or both) by working in the adult industry? The film introduces situations that allow for questions like these to be discussed. It adds to the discourse on women’s sexuality and a subculture that is geared towards the desires of a heterosexual, male population.

A part of the storyline that frustrated me involved Christine and Mark’s relationship. He is clearly unhappy about her choice of work. The two date throughout the movie, although the frequency of these dates decrease as the movie progresses. During their time together, Christine recites the plots of the latest films that have played at the Variety. The content is always explicit, and while she recites the events with fervor, Mark either ignores her or listens with an aura of quiet anger. It seems as though Christine is attempting to prove to Mark that she is enamored with her new career, but be is not convinced. I’m not either.

Written by: Rachel Muzika Scheib, February 21st 2010

Roulette

admin — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 09:43:00 +0000

Directed by Courtney Trouble

NoFauxxx

Perhaps it was an omen, but the first thing Roulette did was cause my computer to crash. My computer is used to gonzo, after all. Undaunted, I rebooted and continued on, quite curious to see how I liked this film.

I will preface all by saying that queer porn is not my typical viewing choice, nor is porn with people who fall into the category of 'alt' or 'natural', so for me, Roulette was a new experience. Comprised of several moderate length scenes, Roulette is very different in style and content; its style has a softer edge, more personal and intimate settings, shorter scenes, basic sets, and nothing hetero about it at all. Let me give you a blow by blow…

The first scenes is “Bring Back Art,” and features Ceci Dolores and Kenji. A female-on-female scene sparked by cute butch Kenji becoming bored with attractive femme Ceci’s endless indecision over what outfit to wear evolves to the two of them having sex—oral, strap on, and manual—on a pile of clothes on the floor. While the somewhat cooler-than-thou soundtrack sort of got on my nerves, these two women absolutely looked like they were enjoying themselves and the sexual pleasure taken and given seemed genuine. I can usually spot when someone is faking, and Ceci seemed to enjoy every bit of attention Kenji paid to her.

There was also a romantic feel to the scene, with a lot of kissing, caressing, and eye contact—things one does not generally find in mainstream “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” sorts of porn. Both performers smile a lot too. It was very pretty scene, and for some reason, Kenji’s grin is infectious. She looks like she's up to something, and I think that's rather cute.

The second scene, "Cyd," opens with a very young—and I mean teenage-looking young—athlete sneaking into a locker room. This person was the punk rock androgynous Cyd. She proceeds to snoop around and picks one locker to really go through. She fondles some shorts, gives them a sniff, and tries on an athletic cup before finding a snazzy dildo—I mean really snazzy, as in I need one of those—and some lube. (Shoot, I thought I was the only one who kept that sort of thing at the gym!) Cyd gets so worked up she begins to masturbate, one hand on the strap on she has in her boxers and the other inside them. Cyd then puts the stolen locker dildo to use (wooo, naughty), smelling, licking, and sucking on it first.

While Cyd has some really cool ink and the graffiti on the locker room chalk board had me giggling, I found it about as exciting as watching paint dry. Cyd looks to be having fun, but I found myself waiting for it to be over so as to move on to the next one, which is a music video.

You know, when I'm watching porn, a music video is not something I expect to see. Throwing a music video into the middle of a porno, even an alt queer porno, seems a bit pretentious to me. It smacks of screaming, “See how cool and different we are? See! See!” It just really rubbed me the wrong way. I can’t say I cared for the song either.

Next up we have Walter Crasshole and Nikolaj, who are described as “two fags in love drinking 40’s and fucking on rooftop.” Sure enough, this scene has two somewhat pretty, thin, punk rock guys going at it on a roof: oral, analingus, and anal (yay, condom use!). Once again there is a very sensual, romantic, and fun feel to this scene. There is lots of kissing, caressing, and smiling (as if screwing on a gravel rooftop—even with a blanket—could be comfortable!), and Walter and Nikolaj look like they are having a very good time. This is one of the more close-up and graphic scenes, and the pair get into some interesting positions, which I rather liked actually, and if this were my thing, I suspect I would think this scene was hot in a cute, sweet, and not so in-your-face way.

Then came another music video of White girls in very bright outfits rapping. I had a brief moment wondering if I was watching an '80s flashback on MTV. Fortunately the song ends and the nostalgia passes.

In "Dia," a fit, attractive blonde playing a black clad cat burglar in impractical breaking-and-entering heels proceeds to the fridge to get some milk, which she pours all over herself while masturbating. Aside from the music, this scene didn't seem all that out of the ordinary, just another hot gal up to things other than cookin’ in a kitchen, which is a mainstay in mainstream porn, right down to her ripping off her fishnets then rolling around on and licking the floor. She does smoke a Camel Light at the end, which made me grin.

A rather REM-esque, low budget music video follows, and then we move on to "Gangbang," which starts with cute butch going at it with cute femme on a bar, and proceeds when two other butch gals playing pool join in. There is oral, fingering, vaginal penetration, light bondage, and well, things one might expect to see in a gangbang, no matter who the participants are. This scene, like the one with Walter and Nikolaj, is more graphic, up close, and in-your-face. It is also rougher and more reminiscent of typical porn, and was also my favorite scene. Truthfully, it was the only one I found arousing, and they made excellent use of a pool table.

Roulette comes to an end with Courtney Trouble’s "Red Light Special," where a woman masturbates to music, and a short scene featuring what appears to be real-life girlfriends having some strap on fun on a sofa. While there are performers in Roulette are of various sizes, ethnicities, and personal styles, the majority of them would be considered conventionally attractive. Breast implants and bleached blonde hair may have been traded for tattoos and piercings, but by and large, the women here are slim, attractive, shave their pubic regions, and look a lot like many women in non-queer porn.

Overall, Roulette was fun because the people performing in it appeared to be having a great time—and that is a very good thing—and more than passing attention is paid to the full scope of a woman’s anatomy. Although this is not my general taste in porn, I found one of the scenes very hot, and I suspect that other people—those looking for porn that is organic, features people who seem to be into each other, and has a more erotic, romantic, and even silly feel to it—would find the whole thing very compelling.

Written by: Renegade Evolution, December 4th 2009

SexIs: Sex and All Things Sexual

admin — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 12:05:00 +0000

Eden Fantasies

There are an abundance of websites about sex, gender, and pleasure that range from academic, theoretical discussions to medical descriptions to sexual how-to guides, and I was admittedly skeptical of SexIs, a sex-positive community devoted to “sex and all things sexual” started by online sex toy company Eden Fantasies.

Updated weekly by a diverse collection of writers (including Feminist Review founder Mandy Van Deven), SexIs features a variety of articles about aging, disabilities, kink, fetishes, politics, anatomy, "green" sex toys, contraceptives, and body image for just about everyone—including lesbians, gay men, bisexuals, straight people, transgendered folks, and those who choose not to self-identify sexually. As a Brown University undergraduate student, I was particularly interested in the excerpt from Confessions of an Ivy League Pornographer about Sam Benjamin, a ’99 alumnus who used his education to become what he describes as a “filthy but good-hearted pornographer.” In his biography, Benjamin explains his attempt to make sex positive films; however, in practice, this led to no lucrative end. In other articles, Benjamin reviews sex and women-positive projects, such as the film Rough Sex by Tristan Taormino, the only self-declared mainstream feminist pornographer.

SexIs is just one of many virtual community spaces Eden Fantasies has developed; they also have a section with interviews, a blog, and interactive forums. The content of the site reminds me of a gender-neutral discussion group I participate in called FemSex that facilitates learning and provides a safe-space that encourages individuals to gain knowledge, make self-aware decisions, explore available options, and validate their own experiences. While the SexIs' attempt to be an all-inclusive portal may seem too overwhelming or superficial to some, in the end, it creates an open space to delve into the full fluid spectrum of human sexuality. Although I question their consumerist intentions, the site is a positive space for people to learn, debate, and share ideas and experiences about pleasure.

Written by: Abigail Chance, December 3rd 2009

Side Dishes: Latina American Women, Sex, and Cultural Production

admin — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 08:00:00 +0000

By Melissa A. Fitch

Rutgers University Press

Side Dishes, at times more tasty, original, and irresistible than “the main dishes,” is a delightful, playful, and innovative work about Latina, Brazilian, and Spanish American women writers, filmmakers, cartoonists, and science fiction producers. Invaluable works by women in Side Dishes are found outside the usual diet of canonical texts by Latin American women. They broaden our knowledge and understanding of different ways and approaches of looking at cultural narratives of women. Beside “the main dishes” regularly serving narratives of women as victims of male aggression, “the side dishes” write, talk, or make films about sexual lust by women and about the treatment of women’s sexuality.

In fact, the first chapter of the book “Lust” discusses sexuality often classified as Pornography, dealing with bisexuality, lesbianism, and masturbation. Chapter two, “Pop,” is about science fiction writers and cartoonists, namely Marta Gómez, the comedian from the United States; Cecilia Rosetto from Argentina; and her compatriot, the cartoonist Maitena Burundarena together with science fiction writer Daina Chaviano from Cuba. Chapter three, “Issues,” explores the academic studies dealing with feminism though journals such as_ Debate Feminista_ from Mexico, Feminaria from Argentina, and Cadernos Pagu from Brazil.

Chapter four, “Flicks,” discusses the representation of women’s sexuality in film. Argentinean Lucrecia Martel’s La niña santa (The Holy Girl) is about a devoutly religious girl Amalia (María Alché) who constantly talks and thinks about sex. Mexican María Novaro’s Sin dejar huella (Without a Trace) explores metaphorical and physical borders in a story about Ana (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), a Mexican born, but Spanish raised dealer of fake Mayan archaeological relics. In it we also meet Aurelia (Tiaré Scanda), a young Mexican mother who makes her way to Cancún after stealing cash from her boyfriend. Tata Amaral’s film Antonia, a hit in Brazil, is about four young black women living in favelas (slums) outside Sao Paulo who had each experienced a tragedy and want to improve their living conditions. This film is about feminine friendship.

In chapter five, the author examines the development of women’s studies in Latin America and hopes that students will be encouraged to evaluate cultural texts in debates in and out of academia. In Fitch’s own words her goal with Side Dishes is “to put an array of cultural artefacts related to women in Latin America on the table.” She has done it beautifully. Through the culinary metaphors she has expanded on a sometimes forgotten area in feminist studies. With this fascinating work she signposts new directions for areas of Latin American feminism, cultural studies, and film studies, and makes a significant contribution to the main canon of Latin American narratives. This work is most likely to satisfy not only the tastes of academics but also any open minded reader interested in “the side dishes” of the diet.

Written by: Anna Hamling, October 30th 2009

Briarpatch Magazine: The Gender & Sexuality Issue (March/April 2009)

admin — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 00:41:00 +0000

Edited by Dave Mitchell

At first glance, Canada's Briarpatch Magazine reminded me of American feminist magazine Bitch; the content is similar, the overall message is similar, and, hell, even the font in the logo seems similar. What I love about Bitch is that although it’s an American magazine, it covers issues from all over the world, so I can keep up on feminist issues all over just by checking in one place. Briarpatch does not cover such a distance, as it seems to be primarily a Canadian-focused magazine; however, I still learned a lot about some of Canada’s different subcultures.

This issue was billed as “the gender and sexuality issue,” so the topics covered were about polyamory, sex working and transsexual issues. First, I learned about Canada’s health care system in relation to transsexuals undergoing or wanting to undergo gender reassignment surgery. Unlike the United States, Canada has a government-funded health care system. It is apparently extremely difficult to get coverage for something such as this type of surgery. This was an interesting, in depth look at one man’s personal journey through this ordeal. It was inspiring, yet also sad with the hoops he had to jump through in order to become the gender he felt comfortable with.

Briarpatch also educated me about sex workers in Canada through an interview with Kara Gillies, co-founder of both the Canadian Guild for Erotic Labour and the former Toronto Migrant Sex Workers Advocacy Group. Gillies also does work for Maggie’s, an organization run by sex workers. Maggie’s includes all aspects of sex work in their attempts to advocate for these workers’ rights, such as individuals involved in pornography, phone sex workers, and dominatrixes, to name a few. It is Gillies' work with Maggie’s that is the primary focus of the article.

The most interesting thing I learned from this was that in Canada, the act of prostitution itself is actually not illegal and never was. What is illegal is negotiating for services in a public place or even somewhere that’s open to public viewing such as parked or moving cars or bars. So it’s fine to go and do the deed elsewhere but not to discuss anything such as protection, payment, or even specific services beforehand if it’s in a public area. But you also can’t technically go anywhere because your work site, if used for this purpose, could be classified as a ‘bawdy house’ and under the bawdy house law, that’s illegal too. In addition, if you participate in someone else’s activities, it falls under the procurement law. This means that you can’t do such things as advertise someone else’s services or even offer to protect them personally. But, again, the actual act of prostitution is totally legal!

This, too, was an inspiring although frustrating piece because while some of the facts were new to me, unfortunately, the overall story and public perception seems to be the same all over. On the whole, I enjoyed getting an in-depth look on another country’s struggles with the same issues as are faced in the United States, and Briarpatch was a very enjoyable read.

Written by: Jen Klee, September 6th 2009

The Price of Pleasure: Pornography, Sexuality, and Relationships

admin — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 17:02:00 +0000

Directed by Chyng Sun, Miguel Picker

Open Lens Media

The advancement of gender equality and feminisms are arguably difficult to measure. One of the greatest successes, however, is the growing level of complexity with which we view previously black and white issues. In other words, we as a society are more capable to recognize the grey in controversial issues. As the face of feminism becomes more of a collage than one iconic portrait, as the proverbial intersection of race, class, gender, ability, sexuality, religion, and other forms of identity receives more thoughtful traffic, documentary films such as The Price of Pleasure emerge. This film boasts a unique approach to exploring the contentious world of pornography.

Abandoning the tired and often cyclical rhetoric on whether pornography is “right or wrong,” The Price of Pleasure investigates the collision of pornography, sexuality, and relationships. Instead of wagging a finger at the billion dollar industry from an academic pulpit, this film features a diverse group of college students, professionals, media makers, distributors, consumers, and adult performers to expose a panoramic and dizzying look at how pornography affects our lives and relationships. Instead of making statements that legitimize or demonize the porn industry, the film asks questions, and then allows people talk for themselves.

Equally compelling as it is disturbing, The Price of Pleasure spans the pornography business with several different lenses: race/gender roles and power, economic and capitalistic trends, political and corporate involvement, and sexualized violence against women and children. The weight of these issues is undoubtedly distressing. The film takes a bold approach to examining the stunning financial profits of the industry and the connection to our human needs and insecurities. The Price of Pleasure presents an unapologetic inquiry into the blurring line between the pornographic world and real world. That line is the primary battleground of the film.

The Price of Pleasure is loaded with explicit and violent imagery, vulgar language, and disturbing commentary, which may upset an unsuspecting viewer or trigger a survivor of sexual assault. Educators should exercise acute judgment when using this film for discussion and note that the DVD contains an option to view an edited or unedited version. Even with the most seasoned of facilitators, audience members should be appropriately prepped and forewarned.

The Price of Pleasure holds immense possibility for transformative dialogue. The questions raised are almost too difficult to hear, but once they are voiced they are too impossible to ignore.

Written by: Lisa Factora-Borchers, July 24th 2009

Good Dick

admin — Sun, 24 May 2009 17:19:00 +0000

Directed by Marianna Palka

Present Pictures

Good Dick is not porn—in fact, it’s a love story. You could call it a romantic comedy, but by “romantic comedy” I mean the polar opposite; there’s not much romance and its comedy leans more towards the dark side. Yet the central theme is certainly a romantic one. Written, directed, and produced by Marianna Palka, who also stars in it, Good Dick proves to be a fascinating and complex cinematic work.

The romantic couple is a pair of odd characters drawn together by movies. Both remain nameless throughout the movie. “The girl” is severely introverted; she lives a lonely life of seclusion and rejects all types social interaction. “The boy” is a video clerk with a history of addiction behind him; he’s also homeless, and living in his car. Somehow he sees through her uncanny exterior and manages to get close to her, starting their odd relationship. She rejects the emotional support he offers, verbally abuses him and refuses to have a physical relationship with him, yet his persistence does not falter, even when it appears that it should.

Although Good Dick is not a pornographic movie, there’s plenty of explicit talk from the characters, and it is ultimately by watching porn together that the couple bonds. The movie is about everything but pornography, and it merely gives way for the complex levels of their relationship to unwrap. These are not likeable characters; both are damaged individuals, and although it is not clear where their affections surge from, the chemistry lingering between is enough to not question it. Some scenes lend themselves to awkwardness, content wise, yet they are appropriate to explain the characters backgrounds.

“The girl” whose character’s development was the main focus of the relationship comes with terms of her past in order to face her present (“the boy”). Good Dick is not a movie about sex; companionship is what holds the core of it. At the end, it is fascinating to see how Marianna Palka uses pornography to create an honest story that yields to an unconventionally romantic one.

Written by: Jessica Sánchez, May 24th 2009