Alright. I’m just going to come right out and say it. It hurts my brain to write this up. I have some delayed emotional hangover from starting this assignment. I’m all fidgety and uncomfortable.
Let me explain what’s going on. My husband is a writer with a long history in pornographic materials. Yes, it’s been documented and brought up here before. Almost 20 years ago, he wrote some screenplays for full-length soft and hardcore pornographic films, two of which are fairly easily accessible and claimed openly by him.
When we began courting/dating/fornicating whatever-on-earth we did, he disclosed these items and I thought their existence was a hoot and was very eager to watch, mainly out of coolness, new-love horny-ness and mania. He backed down and said I couldn’t watch them. I’m pretty sure he said I “wasn’t allowed” to watch them.
That was actually a sweet move. To his credit, he’s a pro at casting the pervert net, but early on he realized I wasn’t just another molested fish, I was the Great White Whale. He cared about what I thought and how I felt and blablablablabla, right?
Fast-forward four years; the time had come to watch at least one of them. I’ve built these things up in my head and have been downright phobic of discovering what plot lines and sex acts could be so horrific that you ban them from the woman of your dreams for fear of losing her forever. I do exaggerate because Mike didn’t even remember telling me I couldn’t watch them. He was the one psyched now; I had to work up to it. What better motivation than an I’ll Try Anything Once for xoJane?
So late Saturday night, we popped in the DVD of "The Devil in Miss Jones 5: Inferno" and I foisted my honest reactions on the innocents of Twitter. It went like this:
That lays it out pretty accurately/well I’d say.
I debated watching alone vs. watching with Mike, and in the end, Mike giving me the insider’s commentary was depressing in a very straightforwardly morbid way. One actor hung himself, another shot himself and two other cast members contracted HIV during their careers. Really takes away from the "OMG look at those precarious nails and giant fake pearls” carefreeality of an otherwise hilariously kitsch 90s Satanic funhouse porno born of my beloved's warped young brain.
Also, watching a 90-minute hardcore porno from 1995 completely removed from a sexual context (tweeting, fully-clothed, at a desk), particularly the way the sex is choreographed and edited in DMJ5 (*which Mike had no part in), wasn’t sexy at all. It was beyond detached and monotonous. Oddly, penetration started looking like the ultimate void of nothingness. Eventually I would reflect on some decent oral, but there were a lot of “parts is parts” edits that left me cold.
Cold enough to start reading into the “screenplay.”
Mike was a 25 or 26-year-old guy with a rare opportunity when DJM5 was written and produced. There are overt anti-feminist digs, and almost-adorably naïve Catholic-shame-induced filth conjuring. I don’t know. I feel a little guilty that after seeing his movie again through my eyes, he doesn’t think it’s any good anymore. I mean, it’s not any good, but he should still be proud.
I wasn’t writing screenplays when I was 25, so who the hell am I?
And that brings me back here, uncomfortable to write and be honest because I’m judgmental and self-obsessed and after four years, I still don’t know to how to neutralize the “porn years” in my mind. Ego and image get the best of me and I want to be normal and special at the same time.
But~ that’s what that superstar shrink is for.
Mike’s 90s soft-core porn, Animal Instincts 3: The Seductress, literally remains to be seen. So let me know if this stuff is interesting to you and I’ll give it another go. How great is that title, right?
Oh yeah, I didn’t get much of a reaction on Twitter during the live-tweeting, but it was really late at night. I did have a message in the morning from a friend of both of ours simply requesting, “Don’t ever do that again.” I lost five followers, too.