I have a friend who is a true bisexual. He has and will continue to be in relationships with both men and women and his partners don't really seem to care one way or the other. When we first met some twenty odd years ago, he was the person who helped me to let go of the barriers I had surrounding sex, sexuality and how one can accept his/her focus on being a sexual individual. These days, my poor friend seems a bit shadowed with shame about his wonderfully carnal past. When I bring up his good old days, he lowers his face and make attempts to explain how much sex he did not have. "Some of those guys I just jacked off with," is one of the explainations he gives.
However, I inform him, masturbation is also sex. And I continue to tell him - with a preacher's ardor - that his sudden shame is not solid; that he should not feel any shame for having such a robust sexual life and being sexually open...both in activity and perception.
When I mentioned to my friend that I was going to see a movie that I heard was about a sex addict he shrugged his shoulders (in jest) and said that he would expect me to be interested in such a film. Thus, he projected his flash of shame onto me. Not that I mind, but my friend's shamefulness in these later years is puzzling to me. I believe his bisexuality stems more from a love of sex than just being attracted to both men and women.
Shame, British director Steve McQueen's much talked about film, sucked in interest long before it's release. Not only because of Michael Fassbender's raw and hypnotic performance but because of it's subject matter. I admit, that was the first thing that grabbed my attention...along with a slight crush I have on Mr. Fassbender and pre-knowledge of his other, um, attributes.
I admit: I loved the movie. When it ended there were people actually clapping as the closing credits started to roll. I was one of them - voicing my appreciation for such a stunning piece of art. When I later read reviews, with the exception of Michael Fassbender's performance, everyone seemed focused on 1) his penis, 2) the subject matter, and 3) the so-called graphic sex scenes. Michael Fassbender's penis ended up being mentioned during interviews and in award acceptance speeches, so I'm not going to ramble on about that (besides, if anyone paid any attention to x-men-first class then the size of his cock wouldn't have been so much of a surprise). The sex scenes did not seem very graphic to me, but that could just be personal perception. What I think is the sore focus here is the subject matter: sex addiction. I came out of the theatre wondering why was this impressive film pigeon-holed into being a movie about sex addiction? I didn't get it.
What I saw was a movie about a man who did have a fascination with sex - complete with a wildly active sex drive - and a little trouble with intimacy. His sister comes to town and it seems his world unravels a bit and you get the picture that they are pretty fucked up people. Okay, my belief is that most of us are fucked up to a degree - more or less. In the writing and direction, Steve McQueen does not let on what actually screwed these people up. Rather, he leaves it to the imagination of the audience to try to figure it out. And I think that's what gives the movie it's grit; it's raw tenderness. Abuse? Incest? Negligence? It kind of reminds me of Seven and The Blair Witch Project where it wasn't knowing what was going on that scared the shit out of you, it was not knowing but being given the frames to kick the imagination into gear.
From research I had conducted years ago for my novel Between Men, sex and porn addiction is this thing that seems to have been made up by Christian Right zealots. Go ahead, Google 'sex addiction' and tell me what you get is the same as me: a bunch of religious websites and psychologists offering their help. An addiction is something that takes over a person's life where he cannot function without it. In my opinion, the main character in Shame continued to function in everyday life with the only upset being someone found his porn collection and commented on it.
In my honest opinion, Shame is more about urban loneliness and fear of intimacy. Maybe the characters were screwed up from their childhoods or maybe they were screwed up during the early years of adulthood. There are clues in the film to support both scenarios. However, the film maintains it's gritty view - through sharp and crisp cinematography - from the fact that it is about us. It is about people who are fucked up emotionally and/or sexually and how they can't seem to either admit it or try to own up to it.
Intimacy seems to be a long forgotten or ignored or trivial prerequisite of human interaction. That lost attribute seems to be the basis of our grip on casual sexuality. Sex is fun. Sex is wonderful. Sex is who we are as a species. Intimacy seems to be a pest; a nuisance bent on destroying the very nature of our animalistic endeavors. And Shame's power comes from the realization of us, as humans, loosing a basic connection of not actually being built to be alone (though some - including myself - can maybe prove that to be false).
Shame can be subtitled a close cousin to another favorite of mine entitled The Pornographer: a 1999 independent film starring Michael DeGood as a paralegal whose addiction to pornography masks a desperate loneliness that ends tragically. I recommend that film as well. However, whereas Shame remains raw The Pornographer leeds it's bold independent spirited script from originality to pure Hollywood mind fuck where - once again - we are being shown a shaking finger: be careful...every dream - every fantasy - comes with a price. My only complaint about the poetic Shame is the use of a homosexual encounter to illustrate a character's low point. C'mon guys, that is about as tired as your basic rom-com predictability and just as insulting.
I highly suggest this makes a point of seeing Shame. And, upon my suggestion, even if you're going to see it for Michael Fassbender's penis be ready to deal with your reaction afterwards because this film has a lot to say about all of us.
However, I inform him, masturbation is also sex. And I continue to tell him - with a preacher's ardor - that his sudden shame is not solid; that he should not feel any shame for having such a robust sexual life and being sexually open...both in activity and perception.
When I mentioned to my friend that I was going to see a movie that I heard was about a sex addict he shrugged his shoulders (in jest) and said that he would expect me to be interested in such a film. Thus, he projected his flash of shame onto me. Not that I mind, but my friend's shamefulness in these later years is puzzling to me. I believe his bisexuality stems more from a love of sex than just being attracted to both men and women.
Shame, British director Steve McQueen's much talked about film, sucked in interest long before it's release. Not only because of Michael Fassbender's raw and hypnotic performance but because of it's subject matter. I admit, that was the first thing that grabbed my attention...along with a slight crush I have on Mr. Fassbender and pre-knowledge of his other, um, attributes.
I admit: I loved the movie. When it ended there were people actually clapping as the closing credits started to roll. I was one of them - voicing my appreciation for such a stunning piece of art. When I later read reviews, with the exception of Michael Fassbender's performance, everyone seemed focused on 1) his penis, 2) the subject matter, and 3) the so-called graphic sex scenes. Michael Fassbender's penis ended up being mentioned during interviews and in award acceptance speeches, so I'm not going to ramble on about that (besides, if anyone paid any attention to x-men-first class then the size of his cock wouldn't have been so much of a surprise). The sex scenes did not seem very graphic to me, but that could just be personal perception. What I think is the sore focus here is the subject matter: sex addiction. I came out of the theatre wondering why was this impressive film pigeon-holed into being a movie about sex addiction? I didn't get it.
What I saw was a movie about a man who did have a fascination with sex - complete with a wildly active sex drive - and a little trouble with intimacy. His sister comes to town and it seems his world unravels a bit and you get the picture that they are pretty fucked up people. Okay, my belief is that most of us are fucked up to a degree - more or less. In the writing and direction, Steve McQueen does not let on what actually screwed these people up. Rather, he leaves it to the imagination of the audience to try to figure it out. And I think that's what gives the movie it's grit; it's raw tenderness. Abuse? Incest? Negligence? It kind of reminds me of Seven and The Blair Witch Project where it wasn't knowing what was going on that scared the shit out of you, it was not knowing but being given the frames to kick the imagination into gear.
From research I had conducted years ago for my novel Between Men, sex and porn addiction is this thing that seems to have been made up by Christian Right zealots. Go ahead, Google 'sex addiction' and tell me what you get is the same as me: a bunch of religious websites and psychologists offering their help. An addiction is something that takes over a person's life where he cannot function without it. In my opinion, the main character in Shame continued to function in everyday life with the only upset being someone found his porn collection and commented on it.
In my honest opinion, Shame is more about urban loneliness and fear of intimacy. Maybe the characters were screwed up from their childhoods or maybe they were screwed up during the early years of adulthood. There are clues in the film to support both scenarios. However, the film maintains it's gritty view - through sharp and crisp cinematography - from the fact that it is about us. It is about people who are fucked up emotionally and/or sexually and how they can't seem to either admit it or try to own up to it.
Intimacy seems to be a long forgotten or ignored or trivial prerequisite of human interaction. That lost attribute seems to be the basis of our grip on casual sexuality. Sex is fun. Sex is wonderful. Sex is who we are as a species. Intimacy seems to be a pest; a nuisance bent on destroying the very nature of our animalistic endeavors. And Shame's power comes from the realization of us, as humans, loosing a basic connection of not actually being built to be alone (though some - including myself - can maybe prove that to be false).
Shame can be subtitled a close cousin to another favorite of mine entitled The Pornographer: a 1999 independent film starring Michael DeGood as a paralegal whose addiction to pornography masks a desperate loneliness that ends tragically. I recommend that film as well. However, whereas Shame remains raw The Pornographer leeds it's bold independent spirited script from originality to pure Hollywood mind fuck where - once again - we are being shown a shaking finger: be careful...every dream - every fantasy - comes with a price. My only complaint about the poetic Shame is the use of a homosexual encounter to illustrate a character's low point. C'mon guys, that is about as tired as your basic rom-com predictability and just as insulting.
I highly suggest this makes a point of seeing Shame. And, upon my suggestion, even if you're going to see it for Michael Fassbender's penis be ready to deal with your reaction afterwards because this film has a lot to say about all of us.
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