The 4 Rules Of Sex In The Movies

sex in filmSex is to the movie industry what Jean Paul Sartre is to the forward pass in American football: even though they exist simultaneously, they literally have no connection to each other.

Back in the day, sex in the movies was a heated glance, a passionate kiss (sometimes two) and then a slow fade-out or a quick change of camera angle.  It wasn’t reality, but everybody could kinda, sorta figure out what was going on.  Somewhere in the 60s, things changed and movie makers started slipping a few bums or a breast or two into their films — the cliché “T and A” of all good advertising campaigns.  Audiences liked it, critics applauded, and when the censors didn’t notice, film makers got bolder — and even bolder.  By the 1980s, pretty much every movie except Rambo had an obligatory soft-core porno scene, and after that, the studios simply went nuts.  Soon there was so much skin on the silver screen that it looked as if hard-core porn and mainstream movies were eventually just going to meet somewhere in the middle.  Luckily, before it got to “Anthony Hardwood Meets Meg Ryan,” the studios came to their senses.  Now the industry is governed by a strict set of rules which has returned sex in movies to its roots: it isn’t reality, but everybody can kinda, sorta figure it out.

Here are the basic rules:

Foreplay — These scenes begin with a heated glance, normally in a hallway, a doorway or an abandoned somewhere else.  This is followed by a ferrrrrocious grappling, where the two characters clinch and chew on each other like a couple of starving wolverines.  Snarling and slobbering, they tear at their clothes, smash each other into walls, stumble over furniture and generally wrestle each other to the ground, the floor, a desk, a kitchen table, a sofa, the hood of a conveniently placed ’57 Chevy, or sometimes even a bed.  Vertical to horizontal takes anywhere from 45 to 90 seconds, the director calls cut and everybody checks for bruises.

Underwear* — The amount of underwear a female movie character gets is directly proportional to the fame of the actress portraying her.  The more famous the actress, the more likely it is she’ll get a bra, keep it on, and even have sex without removing it.  Lesser-known actresses spend a lot more time topless and sometimes don’t even get panties.  A perfect example of this is Emilia Clark.  In the beginning, when she and Game of Thrones were relatively unknown, Clark’s character Daenerys Targaryen spent most of Season One wearing nothing more than an injured air and a ribbon in her hair.  However, after the Emmys started coming in, Clark’s character got to put her clothes back on, and for the last 5 seasons, has hardly undone a button.
*This rule does not apply to male characters who are allowed to take off their shirts anytime but must — miraculously — have sex without ever removing their underwear.

The Rule of Twelve — Every sex scene in contemporary movies has to contain these twelve mandatory elements: closed eyes, sweat, an arched back (women only) a standing thrust, a sitting bounce, one haunch-to-paunch clinch, a clawing hand, a gripping hand, a half-bum silhouette, at least one soundless moan, two barrel rolls and three nose-to-nose close-ups.  Whatever’s left is up to the director’s discretion.

And finally:

The Rule of One — One (and ONLY one) sex scene is allowed per movie– whether it’s Anne of Green Gables or The Marquis de Sade’s Summer Vacation.  The general consensus is that one scene is art, two is indefensible as art, and three is … well, you might just as well be doing porn.

At the end of the day, everyone in the film industry will tell you that sex is used for realism and to advance or enhance the storyline.  But, think about it.  How much better would Gone With The Wind have been if we’d seen Rhett and Scarlett banging away on the ruined steps of Tara?  Would our appreciation of Casablanca been enhanced by a ménage a trois between Rick, Ilsa and Victor Laszlo?  What about Citizen Kane?  Or The Wizard of Oz?  Or a little man-on-man grab-ass in The Shawshank Redemption?  No, no, no, no and no!  The truth is sex in the movies is just a gratuitous way to put bums into theatre seats — full stop.

Netflix, You Ignorant Slut

netflixThere’s no way in hell Adam Sandler should be Adam Sandler.  He should be that guy you meet in Vegas who’s sellin’ patio furniture and Amway breast implants.  The same guy who wants to get together with “you and the Mrs.” to talk about franchising opportunities, and whose business card has ‘Notary Public’ printed on the back — ’cause he’s got that goin’ on, too.  In other words he should be just another cheap hustler who, once upon a time, was in some movies.  But he isn’t.  He’s Adam Sandler and, for no apparent reason, he’s still making movies. And he’s worth a boatload of money.  WTF?

It’s not as if Sandler was a good actor (comic or otherwise.)  Basically he’s got one, and only one, comedy shtick — Bad Little Kid.  The rest of his cinematic career is based on yelling, fart jokes and blatant product placement.  His production company, Happy Madison, makes terrible movies. That’s what they do; they don’t do anything else.  These horrors are too numerous to name but That’s My Boy, The Cobbler and Jack and Jill immediately come to mind.  Actually, Jack and Jill is considered one of the worst movies ever produced (in all of history) and what Sandler did to Al Pacino in that piece of trash oughtta be illegal.

The thing is, though, a lot of people go to Sandler’s movies.  They actually pay money — millions and millions of dollars — to see Sandler and his buddies yell, fart, drink Coke™, and eat KFC™.  I don’t know why, but they do.  In fact, Grownups (a study in very bad slapstick) was such a roaring financial success Sandler made another movie just like it — with the imaginative title Grownups 2 — and it made tons of money, also.

So, here’s the problem.  Even though, philosophically, I don’t think Adam Sandler should be allowed within 10 kilometres of a movie set, I’ve got nothing against him making bad movies or tons of money.  Knock yourself out, Mr. Sandler.  My problem is Netflix has signed a four-movie deal with the guy.  Netflix!  These are the folks who gave us River, Occupied, The Bridge (in Swedish) Dicte, Wallander, Broadchurch and on and on and on.  Now, you’re paying Adam Sandler to make movies for our viewing pleasure?  I wish sarcasm had a font.  OMG! — Netflix Originals — Grace and Frankie, Orange Is The New Black, Jessica Jones and right up there on the same marquee Adam Sandler’s latest comic adventure where somebody gets nailed in the crotch with a garden rake.  My cup runneth over.

Is NOTHING Sacred?

sevenI didn’t bitch when you turned the Green Hornet into a lard-ass slacker.  I didn’t complain when you made the Lone Ranger and Tonto look like a couple of transcendental boobs.    Hell, I even bit my tongue over the Ben Affleck Batman affair.  There’ve been so many Batmans (Batmen?) anyway that nobody cares anymore.  (Actually, a lot of people think that Cate Blanchett should take a crack at the cowl.0  But there is a point when every person has to cowboy-up and finally say WTF?  I’m talkin’ to you, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.  What, by all that’s holy, gave you the idea you could remake The Magnificent SevenTHE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN?  Arguably the best Western ever made (sorry, High Noon) and you think you can just casually redo it?  For shame!  Five shame!

Here’s the deal.  If — maybe — perhaps — you got Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Charlize Theron, Russell Crowe, Jason Statham, Idris Elba and if Steve McQueen came back from the dead to play Vin, then I might consider it.  Otherwise, you’re sucking pond water.  In fact, you’re just cashing in on a famous name, you insatiable whores!

And it’s not as if Hollywood has any kind of a track record for treating the classics with any class.  Look at these less than honourable money grabs:

Star Trek – In an alternative reality (shoot me in the head, right here!) Kirk is an overgrown juvenile delinquent, Old Spock wanders around looking miserable, young Spock has a temper tantrum (and, oddly enough, a girlfriend) Sulu looks as if he’s lost without Kumar, and the one requirement to command a Starship is you show up on a motorcycle and eat apples!

King Kong – What Peter Jackson did to that monkey oughta be illegal.  Where the hell is PETA when you need them?

The Ladykillers – Every once in a while, the Coen bros go nuts and think they’re cinematic gods.  This movie proves them wrong.  Tom Hanks should have run screaming from the studio when he read the script.  Unfortunately, he didn’t.  Now, he wakes up every morning and begs the ghost of Alec Guinness for forgiveness.

Around the World in Eighty Days – Turning a 50s epic into a Jackie Chan kungfu movie is bad enough.  However, trying to shoehorn homage to Michael Todd with cameos by Schwarzenegger, Cleese. Johnny Depp and the brothers Wilson is just insulting the guy’s memory.

Planet of the Apes – Mark Wahlberg spends most of the movie looking surprised that he’s even in this movie, Charlton Heston plays an ape, Paul Giamatti is an unusually short orangutan and Helena Bonham Carter plays a chimp (with mixed results.)  The plot is based on coincidence, the climax is like five seconds long, the ending is stupid and when Wahlberg and Bonham Carter get all inter-species, the whole thing just gets icky.

The Wicker Man – Nicholas Cage deserves the bees.

Alice in Wonderland – Every stoner east of Malibu Bay is saying “Whoa!  Alice gets a swordCool!”  The Mad Hatter is a demented revolutionary.  They stole the White Queen from the Wizard of OZ and Helena Bonham Carter plays herself (with mixed results.)  And the frightening thing is Disney did it to themselves.

I’m not even going to get into Psycho, Swept Away, Godzilla or The Pink Panther.

Hollywood needs to just stopThe Magnificent Seven?  My God! What next?  Gone with the Wind?  Casablanca?  Leonardo diCaprio as the Little Tramp?

I’ve had enough.  If there are no original ideas left south of the San Fernando Valley, so be it, but quit carving up other people’s masterpieces!