Sofia Coppola has yet to make a film I haven’t liked, and her latest, The Bling Ring—based on a real-life incident in which a group of L.A. teenagers burglarized the homes of local celebrities, making off with over one million dollars in stolen jewelry and clothes—is one of her most effortlessly graceful. Don’t be fooled by the tabloid-flavored subject matter: this is, like Coppola’s previous efforts, an exercise in minimalism in which the pleasures of style and tone trump those of a tightly constructed plot. And what pleasures! In her hands (with the help of her cinematographer, the great Harris Savides, who died during the production; he was replaced by Christopher Blauvelt) the gaudiest Hollywood mansions come to look downright spectral. (See above.) There’s a quiet loveliness to the scenes in which the intrepid Rebecca (Katie Chang) and her partners-in-crime raid the closets and bedrooms of the likes of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan; even as they resound with the girls’ gasps and giggles, the empty, dimly lit houses feel eerily calm and quiet. Once again, Coppola has succeeded in perfectly evoking a sense of place. If The Bling Ring seems like something of a departure for Coppola, her shots of Hilton’s labyrinthine home decked out with images of Hilton’s own face—a Warholian hall of mirrors—should remind us of the Versailles of her Marie Antoinette (2006). Both films take opulent settings and render them with an otherworldly charge. It should also be noted that both are primarily concerned with young women caught up almost unconsciously in routines of excessive, scandalous consumption.
|Mike Ramsey and Buster as "straight" buddies in The Bigger The Better.|
A while back I wrote a post in which I mentioned the hand-wringing that goes on in the gay community over the fetishization of straight men in gay porn. A huge percentage of gay pornography advertises straight models, often amateurs or non-professionals, being initiated into the world of gay sex. Of course, since many of these models are only passing for straight, much of this pornography involves considerable suspension of disbelief. Sometimes the scenarios are explicitly presented as fantasy, as when well-known gay porn stars appear in videos playing straight characters. In Matt Sterling’s The Bigger The Better (1984), for instance, gay porn actors Mike Ramsey and Buster play a pair of horny straight buddies out on the town trying to pick up women. After they’re rebuffed, they head to Mike’s brother’s apartment to crash for the night, whereupon Buster, aroused by the sight of Mike sprawled out on the bed in his tighty whities, initiates sex with him.
|Sons and lovers: Kay Parker and Mike Ranger in Taboo. P.S. OMG that bed.|
I saw hard-core pornography for the first time the summer I turned twelve, after one of my childhood friends and I discovered an unmarked VHS tape in his father’s garage. It turned out to be a bootleg copy of two vintage hard-core features: N*U*R*S*E*S of the 407th (dir. Tony Kendrick, 1983) and Taboo (dir. Kirdy Stevens, 1980). N*U*R*S*E*S was a light-hearted, and frequently absurd, M*A*S*H parody: porn in the comic mode. Taboo was a different animal entirely, an erotic drama about a jilted housewife played by Kay Stevens, who, after being abandoned by her husband, finds herself increasingly attracted to her hunky teenage son (Mike Ranger). As it happens, the attraction is mutual: although he enjoys a healthy sex life with a girlfriend who’s more than willing to put out, the son's eye keeps wandering to his mother’s bedroom. Taboo culminates in two scenes of incest, both of which cause the mother considerable guilt, though the son is less repentant (“I don’t think any less of either one of us," he tells her. "It happened…and I want it to happen again”). While the film momentarily leads us to believe that our heroine has succeeded in transferring her attraction to a new beau (Michael Morrison—who, it should be pointed out, doesn’t hold a candle to Ranger, attractiveness-wise, even if Ranger’s eyes are set too far apart), it ends by suggesting that she will continue to find sexual satisfaction in both her son and her lover.
There have been no massive ad campaigns, no promotional tie-ins, no midnight screenings to kick off the recent premiere of Richard Linklater’s Before Midnight. Yet for loyal fans (like myself) of its predecessors Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004), it may be the cinematic event of the summer. And just as Trekkies can be counted on to scrutinize every detail of Star Trek: Into Darkness to see whether it passes muster—proving that die-hard fans are often the harshest of critics—devotees of Linklater’s quietly brilliant romantic dramas may find themselves both excited and nervous to sit down with this latest installment in the saga of Celine and Jesse (Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke), who met by chance on a train to Vienna nineteen years ago and who are still struggling to stretch the limits of time and space in order to maintain a relationship. Just as Celine and Jesse are forced to consider whether the connection they first shared together two decades ago is still there, we find ourselves looking anxiously to Linklater, Delpy, and Hawke to make us fall in love with these characters yet again.
“Roger” (billed elsewhere as Paul Malo) catches up on his reading in Jack Deveau’s A Night at the Adonis (1978), one of the canonical gay hardcore films, shot on location at Times Square’s Adonis Theatre. His boyfriend out of town, Roger has told his co-worker (Jack Wrangler) that he plans to spend the weekend reading Jonathan Katz’s Gay American History: Lesbians and Gay Men in the U.S.A.…but, as one thing leads to another, he finds himself cruising the Adonis instead. “So this is Gay American History, huh?” Jack asks Roger with a smirk after they find themselves in the middle of the same orgy in the theater men’s room.
Steven Soderbergh’s Behind the Candelabra, currently playing on HBO after a Cannes premiere, confirms that some of the most interesting filmmaking these days is being done for the so-called “small screen”: after Hollywood studio executives refused to greenlight the project, which examines the years-long relationship between Liberace and his partner Scott Thorson (it was apparently feared to be “too gay” for the cinema-going public), Soderbergh took it to HBO, where it promises to be a major success. The film also feels strangely right for cable TV, which has long specialized in this kind of tabloid-flavored biopic, although it’s rarely given such A-list treatment. Soderbergh’s film is just about as good as anything he’s ever done and promises to be one of the best films of the year—it’s certainly better than just about anything else currently playing at your local theater.