Film School Rejects » Turned On

Turned On, Tuned In: Femme Filmmakers

Bethany Perryman — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 01:37:55 +0000

What’s turning me on this week? Women.

Women filmmakers, to be exact. With the limp release of Drew Barrymore’s Whip It, there’s been an increase of chatter in my circles about lady directors. It’s often highly difficult for me to enter into a discussion about women making movies, because the lion’s share of cinephiles and critics that I spend my time with are men. No offense, guys. It’s just that the conversation often devolves into cheap — albeit funny — pot-shots and cat calls about women in front of and behind the camera. I have no problem, on face, with these discussions. They’re fun, funny, and occasionally enlightening. But what I really want, what I think would really be worth the breath, is an honest-to-goodness discussion on female filmmakers.

Contemporary cinema would be flat without all types of voices, women’s being among the most important. But often women aren’t expected to be, or expected to want to be, behind the camera. I’ve considered arguments from the overtly sexist (”Women just can’t cut it on a big set. They don’t have the balls.”) to what seem to be biological excuses (”Women aren’t as visual as men.”). And to all of it, I say: bullshit. These are all excuses, and many of them offensive. There aren’t as many highly acclaimed and widely recognized women filmmakers because, well, there just aren’t. Maybe it’s a lagging indicator of the existence of an art-media specific glass ceiling. I have a suspicion that women are simply expected at-large, conditioned, and therefore convinced that their business is and should be that of the pretty young things in front of the camera. This, quite frankly, makes my skin crawl. But so do scabes.

In the only article on Salon.com that I’ve ever been really jazzed about, Michelle Goldberg also takes up this question:

There are women in the Senate, women heading studios and busloads of young women emerging from film school. So why are 96 percent of films directed by men? [. . .]

At a time when film schools are graduating almost equal numbers of men and women, why is the movie business still such a closed shop? Many women from every stratum of the directing world — established Hollywood types and shoestring independents, celebrated art-house stars and creators of light teen comedies, film school deans and movie historians — tell remarkably similar stories of deep-rooted prejudices, baseless myths and sexual power struggles that litter the path to the director’s chair with soul-wearing obstacles. “It is absolutely consistently more difficult for women from the beginning to the end,” says Debra Zimmerman, executive director of the nonprofit organization Women Make Movies.

[. . .] Famed screenwriter and director Nora Ephron, whose movies include “Sleepless in Seattle” and “You’ve Got Mail,” adds, “I always think every movie should begin with a logo that says, for example, ‘Warner Bros. did everything in its power to keep from making this movie.’”

Nevertheless, [director Mary] Harron says of the situation for women directors, “It is not all OK. It really isn’t. It’s still much harder for women to get started.” The reasons why are a complex mix of economics, sexism, the tastes of executives and even self-sabotage.

Barring that, I get frustrated that it seems like the majority of women are making soft movies that tug at heart strings, or feature Edward Cullen all twinkly and without his shirt. Never has a woman won an Oscar for Best Director, and only three — Sofia Coppola, Jane Campion, and Lisa Wertmuller — have ever even been nominated. Women can (and do) make great comedy, great drama, great action, great thrillers, great political movies, even great pornography if they choose. So why do most female directors, like Nora Ephron and Catherine Hardwicke, make movies that market to a traditionally female-centric audience? Or, a better question (and here I’m thinking about such works as Kimberley Peirce’s Boys Don’t Cry): why must women be the ones that are charged with taking on gender at all? “I find it staggering and rather depressing when you look at the Oscar list,” says Mamma Mia! director Phyllida Lloyd, in a rather telling February 2009 article in Forbes. It’s not just the “lack of female directors,” it’s that “the stories are all so male-driven, even with the independent films. It’s quite a bleak canvas.”

There are some exceptions to this non-mainstream (read: male-centric) rule. Rocker-director Penelope Spheeris directed Wayne’s World; Kathryn Bigelow (The Hurt Locker); others. But what’s getting to me, I think, is that film is, if anything, an art form. And, while art imitates life, art is also charged with being trend-changing, provocative, and boundary-pushing. Film is all of these things. And the film industry is as well. It has unabashedly embraced homosexuality throughout its lifespan, even before mainstream society could speak of it. And, while it’s undeniable that there have been forward moves in the recognition and encouragement of female filmmakers, it’s clear to me that we can always do more. Be more open. Expect different things.

And what is an FSR reader to do? I think that just having the conversation is a great start, but it’s not enough. Take cinematic risks. Be aware of what films you’re seeing and why. Be pro-active, and seek out films directed by females that push envelopes. Don’t let yourself rationalize the problem away. It’s not a discrimination issue for most of us, it’s a quality issue. It’s an issue of art. It’s an issue of experiencing the visions of many different perspectives, of increasingly varied worldviews. Don’t allow yourself to not care, and if not for the sake of women — for the sake of good movies.

To get started, check out this list of women directors and their movies, a “group effort resource list”, courtesy of Bitch: The Feminist Response to Pop Culture, a magazine I discovered in San Francisco at age 13, and still love to this very day:

1. Ahwesh, Peggy: The Scary Movie (1993)

2. Akerman, Chantal: Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975)

3. Anders, Allison: Gas, Food, Lodging (1992), Grace of My Heart (1996)

4. Arnold, Andrea: Fish Tank (2009)

5. Arzner, Dorothy: The Wild Party (1929), The Bride Wore Red (1937)

6. Babbit, Jamie: But I’m a Cheerleader (1999), The Quiet (2005)

7. Barrymore, Drew: Whip It (2009)

8. Barthes, Sophie: Cold Souls (2009)

9. Berinstein, Dori: Gotta Dance (2008)

10. Bigelow, Kathryn: Near Dark (1987), The Weight of Water (2000), The Hurt Locker (2009)

11. Biller, Anna: Viva (2007)

12. Borden, Lizzie: Working Girls (1986)

13. Bogert, Virginia: Tootie Pie (2006)

14. Breillat, Catherine: 36 Fillette (1988)

15. Brougher, Hilary: The Sticky Fingers of Time (1997)

16. Campion, Jane: An Angel at My Table (1990), The Piano (1993)

17. Caro, Niki: Whale Rider (2002), North Country (2005)

18. Chadha, Gurinder: Bhaji on the Beach (1993), Bend it Like Beckham (2002)

19. Cholodenko, Lisa: High Art (1998)

20. Cockburn, Leslie: American Casino (2009)

21. Coolidge, Martha: Valley Girl (1983), Real Genius (1985)

22. Coppola, Sofia: The Virgin Suicides (1999), Lost in Translation (2003)

23. Dash, Julie: Daughters of the Dust (1991)

24. Davis, Tamra: Billy Madison (1995)

25. Denis, Claire: Chocolat (1988)

26. de Marcken, Anne: Group (2002)

27. Deren, Maya: Witch’s Cradle (1944)

28. de Van, Marina: Dans ma peau (In my skin) (2002), Ne te retourne pas (Don’t look back) (2009)

29. Dieckmann, Katherine: Motherhood (2009)

30. Dörrie, Doris: Men . . . (1985)

31. Dulac, Germaine: Je n’ai plus rien (1934)

32. Dunye, Cheryl: The Watermelon Woman (1996)

33. Ephron, Nora: Julie & Julia (2009), Sleepless in Seattle (1993)

34. Ewing, Heidi: The Boys of Baraka (2005)

35. Export, Valie: Die Praxis der Liebe (1985)

36. Fanta-Nacro, Regina: La nuit de la vérité (2004)

37. Faye, Safi: Fad’jal (1979)

38. Fletcher, Anne: Step Up (2006), 27 Dresses (2008), The Proposal (2009)

39. Fontaine, Anne: Coco Before Chanel (2009)

40. Foster, Jodi: Little Man Tate (1991)

41. Freeman, Marylin: Group (2002)

42. Gabbert, Laura: No Impact Man (2009)

43. Gorris, Marleen: Antonia’s Line (1995)

44. Grady, Rachel: Jesus Camp (2006)

45. Guevara-Flanagan, Kristy: Going on 13 (2008)

46. Guy-Blache, Alice: When You and I Were Young (1917)

47. Hadzihalilovic, Lucile: Innocence (2004)

48. Hardwicke, Catherine: Twilight (2008), Thirteen (2003), and Lords of Dogtown (2005)

49. Harron, Mary: American Pyscho (2000)

50. Heckerling, Amy: Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982), Clueless (1995)

51. Hines, Cheryl: Serious Moonlight (2009)

52. Hunt, Courtney: Frozen River (2008)

53. Hurd, Gale Anne: (Producer)

54. Jenkins, Patty: Monster (2003)

55. Jenson, Vicky: Post Grad (2009)

56. July, Miranda: Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005)

57. Kawase, Naomi: The Mourning Forest (2007)

58. Khan, Farah: Om Shanti Om (2007), Main Hoon Na (2004)

59. Kuras, Ellen: (Cinematographer)

60. Kusama, Karyn: Girlfight (2000), Jennifer’s Body (2009)

61. Labaki, Nadine: Caramel (2007)

62. Lemmons, Kasi: Eve’s Bayou (1997)

63. Loden, Barbara: Wanda (1970), The Frontier Experience (1975)

64. Lopez, Issa: Casi Divas (2008)

65. Lupino, Ida: The Hitch-Hiker (1953)

66. Lynch, Jennifer: Boxing Helena (1993), Surveillance (2008)

67. Maggenti, Maria: The Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love

68. Makhmalbaf, Samira: 11′09”01 – September 11 (2002)

69. Marking, Havana: Cold Souls (2009)

70. Marshall, Penny: Big (1988), A League of Their Own (1992), Riding in Cars with Boys (2001)

71. Martel, Lucretia: The Headless Woman (2008)

72. Mehta, Deepa: Earth (1998), Water (2005)

73. Meyers, Nancy: Something’s Gotta Give (2003), The Holiday (2006)

74. Miller, Rebecca: The Private Lives of Pippa Lee (2009)

75. Minh-Ha, Trinh T.: Shoot for the Contents (1992)

76. Moffatt, Tracey: Night Cries: A Rural Tragedy (1989)

77. Nair, Mira: Salaam Bombay! (1988), Mississippi Masala (1991), Amelia (2009)

78. Neshat, Shirin: (Video Artist)

79. Obomsawin, Alanis: Is the Crown at War with Us? (2002)

80. Ottinger, Ulrike: Prater (2007)

81. Owens, Phoebe: Tammytown (2007)

82. Parmar, Pratibha: Warrior Marks (1993), Nina’s Heavenly Delights (2006)

83. Peters, Barbara: Bury Me an Angel (1972)

84. Polley, Sarah: Away From Her (2006)

85. Potter, Sally: Orlando (1992), The Tango Lesson (1997)

86. Prince-Bythewood, Gina: Love & Basketball (2000), The Secret Life of Bees (2008)

87. Ramsay, Lynne: Ratcatcher (1999)

88. Reichardt, Kelly: Wendy and Lucy (2008)

89. Riefenstahl, Leni: Triumph of the Will (1935)

90. Reiniger, Lotte: Sleeping Beauty (1922), Snow White and Rose Red (1954)

91. Rice, Amy: By the People: The Election of Barack Obama (2009)

92. Robinson, Angela: D.E.B.S (2004)

93. Rothman, Stephanie: The Student Nurses (1970), Terminal Island (1973), The Velvet Vampire (1971)

94. Rozema, Patricia: Mansfield Park (1999), Kitt Kittredge: An American Girl (2008)

95. Sams, Alicia: By the People: The Election of Barack Obama (2009)

96. Sander, Helke: Mitten im Malestream (2005)

97. Sanders-Brahms, Helma: Die Berührte (1981)

98. Sasaki, Megumi: Herb & Dorothy (2008)

56. Satrapi, Marjane: Persepolis (2007)

99. Scherfig, Lone: An Education (2009)

100. Schneeemann, Carolee: Fuses (1967)

101. Seidelman, Susan: Desperately Seeking Susan (1985), Making Mr. Right (1987)

102. Sen, Aparna: Mr. and Mrs. Iyer (2002)

103. Shelton, Lynn: Humpday (2009)

104. Sherr Klein, Bonnie: Not a Love Story: A Film About Pornography (1981)

105. Shum, Mina: Double Happiness (1994)

106. Skogland, Kari: 50 Dead Men Walking (2008)

107. Sperling, Andrea: (Producer)

108. Spheeris, Penelope: Wayne’s World (1992)

109. Streisand, Barbara: Yentl (1983), The Prince of Tides (1991)

110. Tandan, Loveleen: Slumdog Millionaire (2008)

111. Taymor, Julie: Titus (1999), Frida (2002)

112. Thomas, Betty: Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel (2009)

113. Timoner, Ondi: Dig! (2004), We Live in Public (2009)

114. Todd, Loretta: The Learning Path (1991)

115. Troche, Rose: Go Fish (1994), The Safety of Objects (2001)

116. Varda, Agnès: Vagabond (1985)

117. Vardalos, Nia: I Hate Valentine’s Day (2009)

118. Vasarhelyi, Elizabeth Chai: Youssou N’Dour: I Bring What I Love (2008)

119. Von Trotta, Margarethe: Marianne & Julianne (1981)

120. Weiland, Joyce: Reason Over Passion (1969), Birds at Sunrise (1986)

121. Wheeler, Anne: A War Story (1981), Better Than Chocolate (1999)

122. Wishman, Doris: Hideout in the Sun (1960), Nude on the Moon (1961)

123. Yedaya, Keren: Or (My treasure) (2004)

124. Yu, Jessica: Ping Pong Playa (2007)

Want some sex advice? Turned On, Tuned In author Bethany Perryman is here for you. You can get ‘in touch’ with her via email (bethany@filmschoolrejects.com) and/or follow her stream of hotness on Twitter at twitter.com/bethatasitmay

Turned On, Tuned In: Top Ten Cinematic Trannies

Bethany Perryman — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 20:06:00 +0000

What’s turning me on this week? Transsexuals. Transvestites. Drag queens.

It’s Fantastic Fest time in Austin, and we here at Reject HQ are celebrating sex in ways you never knew we could. Details notwithstanding, let’s just say that both goings-on at the HQ and the line-up of sex on-screen have provided for more than a few eye-openers. From the hyper-evocative Antichrist to the more-than-a-little-bit-fun Vampire Girl vs. Frankenstein Girl, to vintage smut like The Barebreasted Countess, it’s certainly shaping up to be an enlightening week. Fantastic Fest is a time of Asiansploitation, kooky genre films, and titillating images galore. From movies to pole dancing at the new Alamo Drafthouse debauchery venue Highball to drunkenly boarding (not driving) the Reject HQ Party Bus, even I am on sensory overload. Taking a short break from this week-long bender to think about how we bend gender has been especially tough, but I believe it to be important nonetheless.

As much as we champions of cinema often favor talking about sex over discussing gender in film, gender issues matter. Sex on-screen can be disturbing, engrossing, off-putting or just sex, but it’s an over-arching trope integral to many films. More often than not, my readers are happy to see sexy girls (and women) show a bit of nip, and I’m happy to point them in that direction. All women are beautiful, and it’s fun to celebrate that in ways that provoke a response. But sex — and how we see it — is important to cinema as a whole. Why is this particular manifestation of sex happening? How does it propel the story? What is the director’s intent here? The answers to these questions shape the narrative and world of a film, and can make or break your cinematic experience.

Alternatively, and I believe more importantly, there are consistent instances of gender portrayal. In this week’s interview with the Austin Chronicle, director Jess Franco (The Barebreasted Countess, Venus in Furs) explained his use of women not as that of objects, but that of sensual elements — with personality — that propel his stories forward. This got me thinking. The images that we’re seeing may be those of sex, but the portrayal is that of a gender. Fascinating.

Here’s a question immediate to me: Women and men are one thing, but how has cinema dealt with the portrayal of those ‘in-between’ genders, or gender-bending? A little research and a lot of tequila later, and I’ve come up with a list. In chronological order, here are my top ten trannies, just for you:

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

“It’s not easy having a good time!”

I wrote about this recently in my fetish column, but I’d like to revisit it here again. This movie certainly pushes the boundaries of transsexualism, transvestites, and Transylvanians. A cult classic — and favorite of mine — Tim Curry looks stunning (if not odd) in a corset, fishnets, and stilettos worthy of a stripper. This movie, I think, was clearly made just to be made. It’s fun, it’s funny, the music is good, and it expressed the underground zeitgeist of its time and continues to be relevant (or at least a fun exercise in popular subculture) almost 35 years later.

Several interesting identity issues arise when seriously considering Rocky Horror, but we’ll let ‘em slide for the time being. What I hope viewers would take from this film is that it’s okay to have a gender identity that’s well off the beaten path. Let your freak flag fly, that sort of thing. The film is progressive and weird, and — although there’s absolutely nothing wrong with mainstream sexual proclivities — identifying oneself with envelope-pushers isn’t bad. Especially if it’s done in good fun, and with Susan Sarandon in her underwear.

Tootsie (1982)

“Oh I know what y’all really want is some gross, caricature of a woman to prove some idiotic point that power makes a woman masculine, or masculine women are ugly. Well shame on you for letting a man do that, or any man that does that. That means you, dear. Miss Marshall. Shame on you, you macho shit head.”

Directed by the late, great Sydney Pollack, and starring Dustin Hoffman in the title role, Tootsie is a film about empowering women — but these women’s new-found guru is a man. Out-of-work actor Michael Dorsey (Hoffman) is desperate for work, so he becomes Dorothy Michaels and lands a role on a daytime soap. Dorothy Michaels inspires women of all sorts, Michael Dorsey simultaneously falls for an actress, and Dorothy/Dorsey has a psychological breakthrough. Not only is the film a tour de force for Hoffman, but it’s an endearing peek into gender identity and an indictment of conventional perceptions of both decency and acceptable persona.

Ich Bin Meine Eigene Frau or I Am My Own Woman (1992)

This one’s a documentary. Thought it has some dramatized scenes, this is a reasonably factual rendering of the life story of Charlotte von Mahlsdorf. Born Lothar Berflede, Charlotte survived the Nazi regime of WWII Germany, as well as the repression of the Communists. She also helped to start the German gay liberation movement. All of this is huge in and of itself, but Charlotte is also a transvestite. A fascinating look at a truly unique story.

Mrs. Doubtfire (1993)

“Ever wish you could freeze frame a moment in your day, and look at it and say ‘this is not my life’?”

This one’s tough, because the dressing in drag is like Tootsie – it’s not because the character has an alternative sexual identity, but it’s a means to an end. In Tootsie, however, Dorothy Michaels becomes a great inspirer of women, and a woman who can stand up for herself. And Michael Dorsey has to learn how to be the stand-up woman that he is as a man. Mrs. Doubtfire (played absolutely brilliantly by Robin Williams) is merely an elderly British domestic worker, who turns out to be Daniel Hilliard — the father of the children in Mrs. Doubtfire’s charge.

The gender implications are for men: Mrs. Doubtfire proves that dads can be sweet and nurturing — traditionally maternal qualities — to their children. Mrs. Doubtfire is a sensitive and sweet movie, brilliantly acted by all parts, especially Williams. Although the larger and more compelling issues of identity while gender-bending aren’t raised, the idea of being uncomfortable (or, in Daniel Hilliard’s case, unacceptable) in your own skin is a classic among transsexuals. There is a subtle nod to acceptance of swapping gender identities, as Daniel Hilliard (like Hoffman’s Michael Dorsey) is ultimately successful in his career and family because of his taking on of Mrs. Doubtfire.

The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994)

“Oh, you can’t do that with a ping pong ball!”

The ’90s is all about trannies. This movie is about a cabaret show in the Australian desert. But, more importantly, it’s about… well, several things. For the purposes of our list, this film adequately showcases the difference between transsexuals and drag queens. In Priscilla, Bernadette is a post-op transsexual, who is still receiving hormone treatments. Mitzi and Felicia, on the other hand, are biological men who dress as women — drag queens. There is a distinct difference in terminology and definition that even I mistake at times, and it can be an important mistake not to make. The differences between a transsexual and a drag queen are huge, and how society deals with each faction of these “in-between” gender identities is equally varied.

The movie, however, is a good-natured, funny romp that deals with both homophobia and the music of ABBA with a distinct ease. It’s hard to say if the music, the story, or the bitchy dialog is best, but Priscilla was adapted for a European theatrical road show, and it remains a success. A huge hit overseas, if you haven’t seen this one yet, do. You’re only 15 years behind.

To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar (1995)

“When a straight man puts on a dress and goes on a sexual kick he is a transvestite. When a man is a woman trapped in a man’s body and has a little operation he is a transsexual. When a gay man has way too much fashion sense for one gender he is a drag queen. And when a tired little Latin boy puts on a dress, he is simply a boy in a dress!”

Here’s one to add to your Patrick Swayze Mourning Party list of DVDs. Swayze, Wesley Snipes, and John Leguizamo play three drag queens whose bus breaks down in a small town. With fun performances by Blythe Danner and Stockard Channing, this movie is awash with good acting and great dialog. The rainbow coalition of fine actors gone femme once again portrays drag as a comic device, which can be problematic to queer cinema as a whole. The movie, however, is just too fun.Call me crazy, but when there’s laughter, positivity, and progressive understanding to a movie, I think it’s a good thing for the people that it’s chosen to represent.

Rest in Peace, Swayze. You wore your rouge and Wonderbra so well.

The Birdcage (1996)

“Yes, I wear foundation. Yes, I live with a man. Yes, I’m a middle- aged fag. But I know who I am, Val. It took me twenty years to get here, and I’m not gonna let some idiot senator destroy that.”

Mike Nichols directing Robin Williams and Nathan Lane makes me so happy. Other things that make me happy? Gene Hackman in drag. The Birdcage is a fabulous film of an even greater story, set in a ridiculously ’90s Miami drag club. Williams and Lane play the gay parents of a newly engaged son. Not a problem in the least, except that the betrothed is a conservative politician’s daughter. A rock-star cast giving bang-up performances, there’s little not to like about The Birdcage. (The soundtrack hasn’t aged so well, but that’s about it.) Nathan Lane as Mrs./Mr. Albert Goldman is the absolute heart of this film. Although the drag club is the de facto set of the film, and there’s no question that Albert is more comfortable as a woman than a man, the issue of gender identity can be taken on-face. There’s not much to be said that isn’t just said, although there is an endearing scene wherein Albert and Armand play with their gender roles (perfectly acted by the gods of impression and nuance, Williams and Lane) that would be worthy of a dissertation.

What I find most compelling about the film is the deeper implications and message about the perceived perverseness of an unacceptable-to-the-conservatives gay marriage. The Goldman’s are tender, long-time partners who love one another deeply, have the problems of any marriage, and are clearly stellar parents. They just happen to both be male, though one would identify as a transsexual. (I’m inclined not to worry too much about the son-as-a-child: all parents are embarrassing.) The film’s apolitical message about the success of a non-traditional family is especially salient today.

Boys Don’t Cry (1999)

“I hate my life.”
“I hate your life, too.”

The tragic true story of Brandon Teena/Teena Brandon, played by Best Actress winner Hillary Swank. Brandon Teena is a poor, country female who prefers a male identity. When her friends and girlfriend (played by Chloe Sevigny) find out that he really is a transgendered man, the result is bloody, grisly, and heartbreaking. It’s difficult even now to write or think about this film, much less the real story behind the film. The story is powerful and the acting spot-on. This film is a dramatic story of a person, but also a story of gender. This filmtakes place inside this bending of gender, and we learn that gender identity and its perception can be a driving, defining social and personal force. And sad to say, humans — when faced with genders that we refuse to understand — can do terrible, barbaric things.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001)

“To be free, one must give up a part of oneself.”

Hedwig was a boy named Hansel. Hansel falls in love with an American soldier. The GI tells Hansel that they can be married if he has a sex-change operation. That goes wrong. Now Hedwig is left to fend for himself as an ignored rock star. There’s more to the story, much more. But this over-the-top rock opera musical is every bit as crazy as its, uh, bits and pieces. The movie is weird as hell, but there’s an undeniable redemptive quality in the music, story, and ire over injustice. All Hedwig wants is to find her/his other half — a soul-mate. But there are several questions, as you’d imagine there might be. Not only a tale of gender identity issues and those fascinating in-betweens, but also a tale of sexuality: Hedwig does not know what gender her/his mate will be, and how they will have sex. An interesting thought exercise, if anything. And there’s glitter.

Transamerica (2005)

“My body may be a work-in-progress, but there is nothing wrong with my soul.”

Three words: Felicity Huffman forever. Huffman plays Bree, a pre-op transsexual that’s almost there. He finds out that he fathered a son, and the two of them drive across America. This movie is a phenomenal telling of gender, expectations, and is – at its core – a story about family. The exploration of identity here unfolds, rather than being impressed upon the audience. And you learn abour Bree through Bree’s past and present, and through her lens as a gendered person.

What I mean to say is, the story of this character is a mash-up of her past and present experiences, and an expectation for her future (as well as her perceptions about its necessity). You’re not drawn in because Bree is a freak without a gender, you can relate to the hurt and uncertainty that she feels about life in general. Family, insecurity, and spiritual resolve — these are all experiences, that, when accompanied by a physical and emotional journey, create a universal story amid gender issues. The interplay of ordinary life and extraordinary circumstances make the story ultimately compelling, and Huffman is both dear and flooring. A must, must, must see.

Turned On, Tuned In: When Fetish Goes Mainstream

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 18:04:30 +0000

What’s turning me on this week? Fetish. And fetish films.

It’s that time of year again. We bid farewell to summer and endless days of string bikinis and turn to a more serious time. It’s time for school to start, time to check back in to our jobs, time to realize that our sex lives are totally boring, even though we’re maintaining our tans. You’ve been there. Lying in bed with your partner, staring at the ceiling more-obviously-than-normal. Instead of moans and “Oh, God!”s, you’re making mental grocery lists and trying not to fart. Sigh. Happy Labor Day.

Here’s a remedy: what better way to spend your day off than to talk about sick sexual shit? Just because your life must resume its wanker routine tomorrow doesn’t mean that your sex life must. Work out your kinks by introducing a few. And where there’s sex, there’s movies. While I’m skipping fringe porn and documentaries like Sick: The Life and Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist, I do urge you to check out a few of my more mainstream favorites, and learn a little bit about what turns me on:

Blue Velvet: This 1986 David Lynch movie starring Isabella Rossellini and Dennis Hopper is weird beyond weird, but I like it.

“There are opportunities in life for gaining knowledge and experience. Sometimes it’s just necessary to take a risk.”

Fetishtastic Highlights: There’s one scene, and if you’ve seen the film, you know it. Breaking into her apartment because he’s curious about a found severed ear, the scene only starts with Isabella Rossellini forcing a young, nice-assed Kyle MacLachlan to undress at knifepoint. Then blowing him. (Mad props for the plaid boxers-black-socks combo, wardrobe department.)

Next comes Dennis Hopper’s greatest cinematic entrance: “Hello, baby.” “Shut up! It’s ‘Daddy,’ you shithead. Where’s my bourbon?” Follow that with violent hot-buse, male domination, whippits (no, really.), and general, glorious masochism. The movie gets weird from there. It’s been totally normal up until this point, obviously.

Other Noteworthy Moments: Dean Stockwell’s protrayal of the flamboyant (to say the least) Ben, and Frank (Hopper)’s line: “Heineken? F**k that shit. Pabst Blue Ribbon!” Hipsters everywhere, rejoice.

The Notorious Bettie Page: Although this film is, in my view, barely okay, it does have its moments.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Bettie? What do you think Jesus would think about what you’re doing now?”

Fetishtastic Highlights: It’s a bipoic on Bettie Page. Bondage photo shoots. Great underwear. Bettie Page. Sinfully fun. (And guys, don’t worry. Girls love lingerie, bondage play, and pictures of themselves in it just as much as you do. Or, well, they should.)

Other Noteworthy Moments: Lili Taylor is a hoot and a half. Senate investigations. Great underclothes. Ball gags.

It’s downright impossible — to write about this movie, featuring the beautiful Gretchen Mol and the always kitschy Lili Taylor (a favorite of mine), without mentioning the cultural icon that is Ms. Bettie Page. Although it’s certainly en vogue in retro-loving circles these days to be a fan of Bettie’s, I’ve loved all things Bettie Page since long before puberty.

I don’t think Mol did the icon justice, though she may (and I emphasize may) have played the woman well. She does show us the sweet, unassuming side of Bettie Page, and she does get to wear the iconic outfits. I can’t help but notice, unfortunately, that I seem to be watching the sweet, unassuming side of Gretchen Mol dressed up in a Bettie Page wig and outfits. Still, this film makes my list — if only because I respect those who even attempted to make this movie.

Secretary: A favorite of anyone who likes a little power play, or a little James Spader, in their life.

“Who’s to say that love needs to be soft and gentle?”

Fetishtastic Highlights: If you’re in to domination, submission, or Maggie Gyllenhaal, this is the movie for you. And me. This is the movie for me. Gyllenhaal plays Lee, a girl fresh out of psychiatric care for self-mutilation. She gets a job in a dimly lit and oddly decorated lawyer’s office, where she and her boss (James Spader) play cute-cum-demented power games. These turn into demented sex-power games, and the relationship between a dominant and his subordinate is wonderfully explored. This movie is fantastic, and not just because Maggie Gyllenhaal wears a saddle. That’s mostly it, though. She also has a carrot in her mouth.

Other Noteworthy Moments: Spoiler alert: they fall in love.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show: This, the cult film of all cult films, explores genderbending, domination, and Susan Sarandon’s slip.

“How forceful you are, Brad. Such a perfect specimen of manhood. So… dominant.”

Fetishtastic Highlights: Where to begin? Tim Curry in glorious drag is a good place. He’s just a sweet transvestite, who has thrown a party for all of his freak friends, in order to unveil his latest invention: a human sex-toy. He created a man, clad solely in a gold Speedo, in the ultimate act of dom-engineering. Rocky’s entire life is devoted to — and created for — Frank’s pleasure. Who will be dominant and who submissive is gloriously left up to question, as the innuendo shifts from lyric to gender-bending lyric. Tim Curry has never looked (or acted) better. This is a real tour de force for those excited by transvestites of all sorts.

Other Noteworthy Moments: The songs are great, the convention of freaks gathered at Frank’s mansion better. Women in dominatrix gear, men in rouge and pearls — it’s sensory-overload for you everloving sickos. If you’re into cult movies, this one is the best. There’s an entire culture of Rocky Horror fans that still gather at theaters for midnight showings, singing, yelling “The rag’s on Janet!”, and throwing toilet paper. If you’re weird, or just have a penchant for silly camaraderie, this could be your newest fetish. Added bonus? Meatloaf. Pre-bitch tits.

9 1/2 Weeks: The honey of fetish films. Literally. Honey.

“Promise to keep your eyes closed?”

Fetishtastic Highlights: Oh, come on. Even if you haven’t seen the movie, you know this one. Just showered, be-robed and be-crew-socked Kim Basinger sits in front of the refrigerator and takes whatever Mickey Rourke (our favorite version of Mickey Rourke) gives her. If you’re into food and sex, or food or sex, you’re in for a delicious treat here. Mickey Rourke’s playful dominance and trust games are fun, Basinger’s tongue motions are more fun than that. She drinks milk like a pro, and there’s payoff at the end. If you ladies ever wanted to be drizzled in honey (listening, guys?) and then passionately kissed-plus, this is the movie for you.

Other Noteworthy Moments: It gets hot with ice and weird with watches. Rourke gets on a stank-ho in a dingy motel room. Then, spoiler alert: their hot-but-unhealthy relationship utterly dissolves after, you guessed it, 9 1/2 weeks.

Turned On, Tuned In: The Indie “O” Face

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 14:08:20 +0000

What’s turning me on this week? Justin Nowell’s “O” face. And sweaty naked Filipinos.

There’s a lot of sex in movies these days, and, I’d argue — even more of it in independent film. Independent and/or arthouse movies have largely championed what I believe to be the paramount intent of the art form that is ‘film’ — that is, pushing boundaries, re-framing cultural issues, and using a visual story-telling format to express alternative ways and means of comprehending things close, foreign, and completely inimitable.

Truly independent film largely skirts the burden of having to be a marketable piece of cinema, and, as such, can (thankfully) challenge us in several areas — one being the collective sexual identity of humankind. And that’s where I find myself today, finding Sex-as-a-concept dripping all over artful entertainment. In the indie vehicle World’s Greatest Dad, the issue of auto-erotic masturbation (one that’s cropped up all over the place in the last several years) serves as a crucial plot device. The episode of Battlestar Galactica that I’m watching as I write this (not indie, but, for the sake of argument, let’s call it niche) is all about the child sex trade (great show — but the issue is cheaply dealt with here).

Lately I’ve been learning and thinking more about independent and niche cinema, and sex — and I’d like to introduce you to two filmmakers that are rocking my world.

First: Justin Nowell. He makes shorts, and Sundance shared them online. As a fan of free love (and open, um, source), I dig the fact that his 2008 film Sick Sex and his 2009 short Acting for the Camera were free. (Now they’re available on iTunes and Amazon VOD.) These films aren’t porn. The 12-minute Sick Sex has a concise set up: “Amanda has a fever. Ken is horny.” We’ve certainly all been there, Ken. It’s a funny little sex comedy, and worth checking out.

Nowell’s other short, Acting for the Camera, is a fourteen minute short about students in an acting class’s rendition of the orgasm scene from last night — er, I mean, from When Harry Met Sally. Nowell approaches sex from a bit of a blunted position, using it as fodder for comedy, and not equating nudity with the topic of sex. This indirect-but-direct confrontation of sex is somewhat reminiscent of classic standup comedy tropes; it is fresh, and, like Nowell’s uptake of emerging technologies to shoot and distribute his films, it is also youthful and forward-looking.

The other filmmaker, Brilliante Mendoza, beat out seasoned directors like Inglorious Basterds’s Quentin Tarantino to take the Best Director prize at Cannes this year. Mendoza, a neo-realist filmmaker (in both technique and character execution) from the Philippines, uses highly explicit sex in his films — as in this year’s Serbis. He lets full on nudity — sometimes not pretty — and sexual episodes propel his story, provide tone, and deepen his characters. Mendoza’s films have been met with much negative criticism — Ebert called Serbis the “worst film” at Cannes. Mainstream pubs like Variety label Mendoza as exploitative, but Tarantino (and others, such as Sean Penn) are lauding his work. And maybe it is — exploitative, that is. But if there’s one thing that sparks welcome debate, it’s a real artist that forces you to experience a controversial vision. And sweaty naked Filipinos.

What I’m getting at is simple. Films-as-art help us to evaluate our collective human sexual identity, whether it’s through the use of realist gritty scenes of sex, or fully clothed jokes and cum noises. And I think it’s important to care about art, and sex, and how we define and ultimately view both. I think seeking out the new, edgy, different, funny, raw, difficult and, sometimes, even exploitative can help us to better shape our representative stories and inform our views about life — which, as we know, is the highest of all art. That, and sweaty naked Filipinos.

Turned On, Tuned In: G.I. Joe: The Rise of Titillation

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 15:38:18 +0000

What’s turning me on this week?

G.I. Joe. But not for the reasons you’d think.

Let’s face it. There’s nothing really deep about G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra. It’s a summer action movie from a chidlren’s toy franchise that does nothing more but blow a bunch of shit up and set up for a sequel. It’s fun, and it’s better than I thought it would be. Personally, I wasn’t super excited about seeing the movie, but when a certain FSR Editor asked me to a very private screening at a theatre that would serve me beer in buckets, I was game.

Yes, the men are ripped meatheads, and the women are wearing leather and camos. Our main Joe, Duke (Channing Tatum), delivers a near silent performance of chiseled gruffness that I was especially fond of. Oh, and ladies — he cleans up well, too. Like, really well. Really really well. I sort of wanted to be his soap. And, boys, even with her cartoonish cape (which no doubt some of you will find sexy in itself), the Baronness (played by one of my favorites and yours — new brunette Sienna Miller) has got it going on. I spent half the movie mesmerized by the Baronness’s boobs, and the other half wondering how exactly they made Sienna Miller’s specific boobs look like that. I mean, come on, we’ve all seen Factory Girl. Long story short, if you’re a teenaged boy, a fan of muscly all-American-style men, or Sarah Palin (women in camos, y’all.), you’ll think this is a sexy movie. And, while there are certainly some clumsy misfires, overall, the sexual elements work. Translation: there’s enough cleavage and six packs to warrant at least a matinee ticket price.

But, what’s really turning me on? The interplay between Ripcord (Marlon Wayans) and Scarlett (Rachel Nichols). This may not seem like a big deal to most, but I deeply respect what the film and filmmakers are doing here. Think about it. This is a family movie, a movie (despite what the production stills might show you) that will work best on pre-teen boys. It’s a movie geared toward the heart and soul of the American public; it plays on your patriotism and your daddy/older brother/creepy uncle’s favorite toys. The good guys are Americans, the bad guys are a veritable rainbow coalition of every nationality that’s not. (Caveat: Breaker is cast and dressed well, with the message clearly sent that all French people, those of Arab/Persian descent, and/or those who wear those bulky scarf things in the middle of the summer aren’t necessarily pussies or enemies of the United States. Go Joe.)

When you see an interracial Ripcord and Scarlett harmlessly flirting and, in the end, having a more convincing (albeit budding) relationship than the other pair of lovers, it’s a welcome breath of fresh air. The sexiest thing about this movie is that it is both brashly American but subtly nods its head in recognition of the changing landscape of our country. Many families will see this movie, and the young people that populate those families. It’s our job as a culture to nourish positive change, and Rip and Scarlett’s on-screen, relatively neutered relationship definitely does so, and in a non-threatening-to-the-old-ways way.

Could G.I. Joe have taken up the issue of gays in the military? I wish. But this movie isn’t a political forum in the least; it just wouldn’t have been appropriate. Instead, what G.I. Joe does and does well, is recognize that a new status quo has been birthed in America. There’s no implicit comment, specific endorsement or condemning of previously unacceptable romantic standards for the American populous. The relationship is shallow, like the movie, but it certainly shows off what America looks like today and will look like tomorrow. And that, my friends, is sexy.

Turned On, Tuned In: Wet, Hot American Summer Love

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 16:22:53 +0000

What’s turning me on this week?

Summer love. Wet, hot, American summer love.

The dog days of summer are just around the corner, and what could be hotter than gettin’ busy with a summer fling? If there’s one thing we’ve learned from Grease, it’s that the best way to snag yourself a summer girl is to be a leather jacket wearing badass (yes, even in June) and to charm the pants off of a visiting Aussie with trips to the soda fountain and a classic song. Selling drugs on the beach a la Blow is also a proven method of charming some chemically altered (read: loose!) bikini clad honeys. And we all know the best summer romance (or summer fantasy romance, as it were) movie of all time is that completely-average-besides-for-Marilyn-Monroe vehicle, The Seven Year Itch. (Taking the title for best, of course, solely because of Ms. Monroe.)

This week, however, just happens to be the week that I’m giving up T-Birds, having affairs with my sexy upstairs neighbor, and cocaine – so naturally I had to find a new summer movie (and clearly a new partner or two). I racked my brain, thinking what exactly about summer facilitates sexual tension and short-term hookups? And then it came to me: Jew camp.

Woah, woah – hold the phones. Not that kind of Jew camp. I of course am referring to the best of all the great terrible comedies about things that take place at a summer camp, Wet Hot American Summer. I hate to admit that, until a few days ago, I’d never seen this movie. I usually glaze over when the bleep-n-dubbed version is on Comedy Central. But, after seeing the feature length, dirty-mouthed version of this movie, I was happily reminded that what is silly can also be sexy.

Although it’s innuendo-laden and mostly PG, there’s something in WHAS for every sexual taste. (It’s also a veritable who’s who of early 21^st century American cinematic comedy, and some of the seriously minor characters (Judah Friedlander! Bradley Cooper!) are today’s stars.) If you’re the type who must spread his seed, you can take a lesson from Paul Rudd, as Andy. In the first five minutes of the movie, you see him literally licking face. Ever the consummate manwhore, Andy also gets to make out with Elizabeth Banks’s bikini sporting character. Andy’s best moment actually provides me with a decent piece of advice: as the days grow long and you need to move on, you can always deliver the line, “You taste like a burger. I don’t like you anymore.” Bonus points if you’re not kissing on the lips.

If you’re the nice guy, rest assured that you too will get to make out with Katie (Marguerite Moreau). But don’t model yourself too much after Coop (Michael Showalter), because the tighty whitey wearing Semite is a gigantic tool. His sweet charm and boyish grin prove no match for the face licker: Coop jumps the gun (no, not like that) and gets crushingly – albeit hilariously – dumped.

If you’re looking for nerd sex (aren’t we all?), grow a moustache, pose as an astrophysics professor, and wear semi-short-shorts like David Hyde Pierce’s Henry. (Spoiler alert! He has crabs. Attention man-nerds: this does not make it okay for you to have crabs.) Henry hooks up with supercute camp director Beth, played by Jeanane Garofolo. Ladies, Beth’s character is a one woman man who falls in love, like most of the female leads in summer romances. But, in this case, she finds the right type of guy (for her) – the guy that doesn’t bone and run. Henry’s not sexy, attractive, cool, or – well, anything, really – but he’s sweetly smitten with Beth, and that in itself is a turn-on.

Then, of course, there’s McKinley and Ben (Michael Ian Black and Bradley Cooper). For a little man on man love, these guys – and their crew socks – give a banging (heh.) performance. There’s Caped Boy – the pre-Christopher Minz-Plasse of the Christopher Minz-Plasse crowd. And there’s Abby, who will make out with anyone, including Elizabeth Banks. For most of you, that’s probably worth the watch right there.

But maybe, just maybe, you’re confused about your sexuality. Maybe you’re a loner. Maybe you’re an inanimate object.You still have an option! You can perform self-fellatio, just like the Can of Vegetables does. All the time. (I really think Can should have gotten a Best Supporting Actor nod for this part.)

Lastly, campers, I should say that, although it wasn’t the wet hot American softcore I was hoping for, Wet Hot American Summer is funny as hell, and one of those good natured films with an all-star cast that you should pack with your sleeping bag, bug spray, and prophylactics. Just be sure you don’t taste like a burger.

Turned On, Tuned In: 5 Great Reasons to Love Gay Sex

Bethany Perryman — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 13:00:17 +0000

In this week’s sex column, Bethany gives us five great cinematic reasons to love gay sex – just the way Leviticus never intended.

What’s turning me on this week?

Gay sex. I don’t want to get political here, but there’s just something about homosex that really turns me on. Maybe I’m a narcissist, but I find it undeniably hot to have sex with someone who has the same plumbing as me. It’s like getting a bird’s eye view of what it’s like to have sex with myself, only better, because I get to play with a new set of boobs, I didn’t buy my own drinks, and – if I’m particularly lucky – I don’t have to do all the work. This weekend was Pride Weekend (or, as my mother lovingly calls it, Gay Shame ’09), and by a balmy Saturday afternoon, my progressive-but-quaint neighborhood was transformed into an urban wasteland of near naked men, many modeling the finest in American bondage gear, and – for the ladies – unibrows and combat boots.

Waking up out of an ecstasy induced haze (I think that was ecstasy? Also, has anyone found my keys yet? No? Seriously?!), I quickly realized that one, I have no idea where I am (Looks like jail. Is this jail?), and two, it’s about time I show my own Gay Pride. So, here you go. Five great (or at least pretty decent) cinematic reasons to fly your rainbow flag:

5. Road trips! The crowning duo of drag road trip movies – Priscilla: Queen of the Desert and To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar – make it easy to channel your inner ABBA and rock-out-with-your-cock-tucked-back, all while wearing platform heels and killer lipstick. These sweet natured movies, uh, “came out” on the heels of the negative stigma of the AIDS crisis, and made it all the more OK to embrace gender-bending and have a little homo-lovin’ fun.

4. Sweet Transvestites. Let’s ride that gender bending wave all the way back to the 70s. (Yeah, I mixed that metaphor. Probably should have gone with the “Time Warp” bit.) You know exactly what I’m talking about – the cult movie of cult movies, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It’s no secret that I straight up love this movie. Tim Curry never looked better. Gold Speedos never looked better. Meat Loaf – well OK, he’s looked better. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is not really a “gay” movie, as I’m not sure that “gay” was its target audience. In fact, I’m pretty sure that “no one” was its original demographic. Featuring great songs, great laughs, and a fun cult-ure surrounding it, Rocky Horror is one of those perfect little films made for like fifteen dollars. Like women’s underwear? Like Susan Sarandon? Like song and dance? Like goth hunchbacks? Dammit Janet, you know I do.

3. Gay Indie Street Cred. You want it, I’ve got it. In a hilarious teen romp about those weird Scared Straight camps, But, I’m a Cheerleader! explores the American pandemic of the perky blond high school gal gone cheer queer. Featuring a bang up comic performance by an out-of-drag Ru Paul (spoiler alert: she’s way hotter as a chick) and a bevy of irreverent jokes and nubile lesbian lust, But, I’m a Cheerleader! is one of those fun-for-the-whole-homo-family movies you can watch with your depressingly un-self-aware gay cousin. Hint, hint.

2. Watching Brokeback Mountain makes you seem both masculine and sensitive. Let’s face it: Heath Ledger’s premature end is a sad day for man love everywhere. Also, Donnie Darko is pretty passé after the age of like, seventeen. In a literal bromance and all-around-great-love-story, Brokeback Mountain gives straight guys everywhere an excuse to secretly lust after that husky number at the end of the bar while looking compassionate and hip-to-the-issues to their lady. (…By the way? 6 to 5 and pickin’ that stout drink of water is FSR Editor Neil Miller.) Ang Lee expertly – a little too expertly, if you ask me – crafted a true masterpiece that answers the age old question: after the obvious male-on-male grunting and the happy realization that you’ll never have to choke down a wine cooler, ever again – what happens when you go gay for your cowboy bro? It’s OK, guys. Own it. I can’t quit you, either.

1. Ladies, Ladies, Ladies. It’s no secret that men love to watch women love on one another. In fact, making out with all those Tri Delts in college is part of the reason that Cole Abaius hired me here at FSR. It’s also most of the reason that my physics TA graded my tests on a steep curve. Sexploitation for my professional and academic gain aside, it’s an undeniable truism of contemporary cinema that lesbian love is often fetishized and portrayed for the enjoyment of straight, white, and otherwise homophobic males the world over.

In some ways, this highly offends my feminist sensibilities. (I mean, hellooo. Don’t you ladies wanna lez out for a straight white female every once in awhile?! Wait, that’s not a good argument, is it?) Alternatively, however, shows like The L Word and Naked Horny Lesbo Sluts 3: The Quickening can raise pertinent questions and explore the complex identities and relationships of the highly misrepresented and largely underdeveloped female side of the gay world, and of the world at-large.

I know, I know. Enough gassing. I can detail my viewpoints about the feminist pros and dehumanizing cons of lipstick lesbianism, as well as erotically describe my bumbling lesbian encounters (ah, college.) another day. (You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Mmm, tell me how you like it.) But for now, you want a list of hot lady love scenes. Well boys, here you go. Have a good week:

Basic Instinct
Cruel Intentions
Gia
Girl (Tara Reid!)
Higher Learning (Kristy Swanson!!)
A Girl Thing
Kiss the Girls (Wait, no. That can’t be right.)
Naked Horny Lesbo Sluts 3: The Quickening

How gay are you?

Need sex advice? Feel free to send your questions to Bethany@filmschoolrejects.com. They might just embarrassingly be featured on the site!

Turned On, Tuned In: Really Bad Sex

Bethany Perryman — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 07:52:12 +0000

What’s turning me on this week?

Completely unsatisfying sex. Alright nerds, let’s face facts. If you’re in a committed relationship with a really great person who is smart, funny, and even marginally successful — you’re probably having terribly boring sex. If you’re any kind of decent American — a creature of Puritanical ancestry, idly clinging to some type of shame based religion — the chips are stacked against you in the “having great sex” game. It’s OK, we’ve all been there. It’s a scientific fact that one person can’t be everything, and a working stiff with bills to pay, significant body issues, and mild to moderate alcoholism simply can’t be the Casanova that he’s convinced himself that he is.

Think about it. Peter Parker? Twice a week maximum; missionary. Spiderman, however, is probably doing wicked acrobatic shit that puts Cirque du Soleil to shame. You, although not a superhero (or superlover), should give yourself mad props for finding a mate that will put on her Business Socks every Wednesday or so and let you get busy, even if it’s just during the commercials — because at least you’re getting laid. And believe me, you’re not alone in your pathetic existence.

Seriously. Watch TV Land while eating your post-vanilla-sex chocolate ice cream and you’ll soon realize that some of the greatest on-screen couples ever are probably having boring sex right now. Dick van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore didn’t even sleep in the same bed. The Cosbys had way too many kids to be doing anything kinky. Sometimes the minutia of life and the unfortunate reality of long-term love just get in the way of passionate, sweaty, no holds barred gettin’ it on.

So what’s the solution? How do you balance your carnal desires with your own harsh reality? First, own up to the fact that you’re already a winner for having sex at all. Before Star Trek got a facelift, probably no one who could spell Romulan had ever gotten laid. Honestly, it’s nice to have a significant other, even if they do have an oddly placed mole or that vinegary body odor that only you could love. Second, realize that the best sex is all about the right chemistry.

If Rhett and Scarlet (or Wesley and Buttercup, for that matter) have to work at it, then so will you. Spice it up. Try acting out a fantasy — I mean, who doesn’t want to bone that retard from The Miracle Worker? Put on some new music (I like the Close Encounters tones myself). Or, perhaps most refreshing, try having sex in a new place. (Sweetie, if you’re reading this — just make sure that the stove is off next time. Although, admittedly the make-up sex in that burn ward was hot…) If all else fails, just get really drunk and pretend she’s Megan Fox.

Need sex advice? Feel free to send your questions to Bethany@filmschoolrejects.com. They might just embarrassingly be featured on the site!

Turned On, Tuned In: Seven Deadly Sins

Bethany Perryman — Wed, 27 May 2009 18:38:14 +0000

What’s turning me on this week?

Being a bad, bad girl. Yes, my column is a few days late, but thank God I’m not. In other news: I’ve been deliciously sinful this week, and I’m not going to tell you why. Consequently, I’ve decided to re-name Memorial Day. It is now Memorial Week. Or, better yet, No Memory Week. Or, even more accurately: That Week When I Was At The Beach And “Accidentally” Spilled Cheap Vodka Into My Terminator: Salvation Commemorative Slurpee And Realized I Had Stumbled Onto Something Fantastic, So I Just Kept Doing It. For Days On End. And Now I Can’t Remember Whether I Attended A Beach Bonfire Or, Quite Possibly, May Have Thrown An Arson Party. Also I Lost My Free Willy Beach Towel.

My hedonistic goal for the beach was to commit each of the Seven Deadly Sins: Vodka, Rum, Tequila, Whiskey, Everclear, Beer, and Wine. Mission accomplished, but this type of hangover can only be called penance. So, this week, please allow me, dark sunglasses, and a big bottle of Advil to tell you what’s turning me on. And please, turn the lights out when you leave. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Envy

The Talented Mr. Ripley. Matt Damon plays this part annoyingly well, and convinces me instantly that there’s something very beautiful about being a jealous psycho. Tom Ripley’s assumption of Dickie Greenleaf (Jude Law) is executed perfectly, as is the cat-and-mouse game that follows. Maybe this isn’t the perfect example, because he’s not envying the girl, but suffice it to say that, on a much saner scale, a little bit of jealousy can be a lot hot.

Gluttony

Rusty from Ocean’s 11. Nary a scene goes by wherein Brad Pitt isn’t eating something. His sex appeal is obvious, and it’s not just his looks. His cavalier attitude — and his love of a good bag of chips — really sells me on Rusty. What can I say? I like a man that can enjoy his Doritos. And a hot dog. And some peanuts. And a club sandwich.

Pride

Jack Donaghy, 30 Rock. I’ve been dying to write Jack Donaghy into a column. In this role, Alec Baldwin is ridiculously hot, and completely comfortable in Jack’s skin. The ultimate arrogant prick, Donaghy has become an indispensable, truly lovable character that’s integral to the current TV comedy landscape. I like a man that’s a little bit of an asshole, and Jack definitely captures this essence, and plays it up with hilarious results.

Sloth

There can be only one. Jeffrey Lebowski. Although probably not a conventional sex symbol, everyone’s favorite stoner embodies the sin of sloth. In a comfortable way, there really is something innately sexy about this man. He smokes weed and drinks White Russians all day, he’s a bowler, and he walks around in his bathrobe. Maybe for some women that doesn’t do the trick, but The Dude had me at “I’m just gonna go find a cash machine.”

Lust

Bond, James Bond. This one’s easy and I’ve got a headache. He’s the ultimate playboy and he certainly enjoys the ladies. Men love him, women love him — and there’s a lesson to be learned to boot. As long as a man is mostly respectful, it can be fun to know that he’s red-blooded. Could there a more sinfully handsome example of lust?

Greed

Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. Johnny Depp! Largely absent from my previous columns only because I find it difficult to write about someone who is sexier than me, now is his moment. Captain Jack has his own brand of sexy, and at the bottom of that barrel lies treasure. It was a little off-putting, at first, to be turned on by a set of movies based off of the Disneyworld ride-you-go-on-when-Space-Mountain-has-crazy-lines, but I warmed up — uh, I mean to the idea — after about 20 minutes with this character. Men, if you wear less eyeliner and give up the tri-cornered hat (sorry, gotta do it.), adopting some of the finer points of Sparrow’s persona might drive a lady mad.

Wrath

In a truly animalistic way, I love a man who is a fucking killing machine. But my own Seven Deadly Sins might be starting to get the better of me, and I need to lie down. Wrath is the hardest one anyway, so this is where I’ll need you to weigh in. The sexiest example of a killing machine that I can think of is Antonio Banderas in Desperado. A close second would have to be Denzel’s character in Man on Fire. Hayden Christensen as Anakin Skywalker is a great one, too. Sure, he kills a bunch of kids, but I never wanted to get busy with a Jedi until I saw him with his shirt off. I also have to give big ups to the guys in Hot Fuzz. I never thought homely, townsfolk killing Brits could be so hot. But give them an arsenal of powerful weaponry, a toothpick, and some fun handbrake action — and my heart’s all aflutter.

So, why not weigh in while I pray for my sins? This bad girl will be back to her regularly scheduled column next week.

Need relationship advice? Too bad. Bethany is terrible at relationships. But if you need sex advice, feel free to send your questions to Bethany@filmschoolrejects.com. They might just embarrassingly be featured on the site!

Turned On, Tuned In: Cinematic Men to Help you Get the Girl

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 18 May 2009 19:32:26 +0000

What’s turning me on this week?

Reader questions.

I wanted to try something a little different this week, but that Star Trek role play thing I’ve been hearing about isn’t my style (sorry, boys). Instead, I thought I would take some of your questions. So, in the spirit of “Returning the Favor”, here’s an amalgam of your inquiries:

Dear Bethany,

Question: What’s the best way to go down on my girlfriend?

Answer: Vertically. The vast majority of the fan e-mails that I get center around one of two things: (1) the great news that I’ve been selected to help a Nigerian prince share his fortune, if I can just write one or two little checks, and (2) that all of you are both curious and clueless about performing oral sex on your girlfriends (or in your case, Cole Abaius, your life-sized girlfriend blow-up doll). Some of you have even shared your desire to want to perform cunnilingus on me, going into great (obviously amateur) detail about your preferred techniques. The one thing I can say to most of you is no, no, no. You’re doing it all wrong. In fact, it’s clear to me that you’re not doing it at all.

It’s a practiced art, so there’s not much help I can give you that those parent-friendly videos you watch on RedTube aren’t already providing. But, here’s a hint: trace the alphabet (use capital letters, this is key), or sign your name in cursive. (A further hint: don’t forget to dot the i’s and cross the t’s – even if there aren’t any in your real name. Try Zach Quinto, Teri Hatcher, Justin Timberlake.) Don’t ever tell her that’s what you’re doing, and before you get to LMNOP, she’ll be begging you to F.

If she’s a particularly tough nut to crack, try humming your favorite movie theme song. (Best one I’ve heard so far? The Great Escape.) If she’s not making “I’ll have what she’s having” noises pretty soon, then I suggest that you either move on to your next soon-to-be-ex, or just give up on this route all together.

Dear Bethany,

I’m generally a nice guy, but it’s hard for me to approach women. What’s the best way to start a conversation with an attractive girl without using a cheesy pick-up line?

Love, Your Fans

Dear Everyone on Twitter,

Truthfully, I could debate this with myself for days. (What’s wrong with cheesy pick-up lines? They usually work on me. Also, have you seen Swingers?) I think the best policy here is to look to several cinematic Casanovas. Try watching these great love stories to see how our heroes get their girls. Study these men, apply some of their tactics, and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

To get the girl, study:

Any incarnation of a Prince Charming. Most girls wants one of these.
Danny Ocean, Ocean’s 11. An antihero, for sure. But his intentions are noble and his sex appeal can’t be denied. Pay close attention if your girlfriend was stolen away by an international financier/all-around douche.
Mr. Big, Sex and The City. Sorry, guys. We know that most of you hate this show, but most of us love it. Any moves you garner from the delicious Chris Noth is one that will woo just about any woman.
Or, just go for the original Mr. Big. Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca.
Tom Hanks, Sleepless in Seattle. Scratch that. Just be Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle. We will adjust accordingly.
Dex from The Tao of Steve. Be a Steve. But the good kind of Steve.
Jack Black as Miles in The Holiday. If you haven’t seen this movie, go see it, now. Miles is great, perfect even. In a battle of the more debonair versus the dorky and doting, Miles (the latter) would win every time.

Other mentions? Kevin Costner in Tin Cup, Tim Robbins in Bull Durham, Bill Murray towards the end of Groundhog Day, and Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire.

To get several girls, study:

Bruce Wayne, The Dark Knight. Cash and flash, baby.
Dex from The Tao of Steve. Be a Steve. The bad kind of Steve.
Jason Segal’s character in I Love You, Man.
Bond, James Bond. The ultimate womanizer. (Hint: beating Goldeneye on N-64? Not a turn-on. Unless you’ve found the world’s most incredible woman.)
Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery. (Still don’t know why, but he is smashing, baby!)

Other movies with leading men to watch for inspiration: Rodger Dodger, Wedding Crashers, and Hugh Grant’s role in Bridget Jones’ Diary.

Dear Bethany,

What’s your phone number?

Love, Your #1 Fan

Dear FSR Staff,

Come on, guys. No. Deal with it.

Love, Your #1 Fan

Turned On: Sex So Good, It Can’t Be Real

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 11 May 2009 23:32:20 +0000

What’s turning me on this week?

Sex… that’s not really sex.

Weird, I know. Just…don’t ask what I did this weekend. Those seven hours aside, I’m not one to too often get caught up in sex that isn’t really sex. Neither am I the type of girl who all too often suspends reality to enter the constructed world of a film (blasphemous, I know). So when I do, I know that there’s something really special about that movie. This same principle extends to scenes in certain films. So this week, I’m exploring 5 sex scenes that I wish were really sex, even though I know they aren’t. Note that I have three criteria for wishing fake sex was real: Dirty, Hilarious, and Unnecessary. A scene will fall into one or any combination of these three, and the more of these elements it conveys, the better.

If you just want dirty, the first one that comes to mind is an old favorite: the piano scene from Pretty Woman. I’m not really sure why I’ve always loved this scene — minus being a Silver Fox, I don’t find Richard Gere particularly attractive, and I certainly wouldn’t sign up to watch him actually sex up J.Robs. But there’s something elusively steamy about this scene. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s paying for it, maybe it’s the fact that they do it on a musical instrument. Either way, take note: women definitely appreciate both cash and romantic rewards. (Don’t we?) Sadly, this scene ends, as does most sex, all too quickly — and only hinting at both oral (for her!) and conventional sex.

The next scene in the arsenal…well, I can’t rightly say that I wish it was real sex. But it definitely qualifies as sex-that-isn’t-sex, and it definitely turns me on. Five words, gentlemen: Last Tango in Paris. Butter. Rating: a resounding 100% unnecessary.

The sexiest sex scene of all time, in my opinion, is the holy-shit-was-that-anal-or-what hallway scene in Unfaithful. I’ve only seen that movie once, but I’ve seen that couple of minutes hundreds of times. I have no idea what the movie’s about — besides a super hot affair and some bathroom sex — but that scene is definitely my #1 favorite sex-that’s-not-actually-sex moment ever captured on film. This scene is hot because it adequately captures the urgency of doing it in a hallway with someone who’s not your husband (and someone I’m pretty sure could model underwear for the rest of his life), as well as conveying some reasonably complicated emotional saga. I suppose women are into this, but in true Rejects fashion, I pretty much sidestepped all that noise for some closeups of ass. Although I phoned in caring about (or remembering) the plot to this movie, the way that this scene was shot and orchestrated is hot enough to make me wish that it was the real thing. Rating: definitely dirty, and mostly unnecessary. (I’m of the opinion that this entire movie was mostly unnecessary. It’s a pretty terrible movie, but that scene is brilliant.)

And then, there’s the art-house flicks. I’m speaking here, of course, about Secretary. There’s many a hot scene — from spanking to saddles — and I wish that they were all real. Maybe it’s because of the overall hotness of this movie in general (except that part where she’s lying on grass? Never got that one.), or maybe it’s because of James Freaking Spader (or Maggie Freaking Gyllenhaal, even.) — but there’s something about this movie that lights my fire. Is it a fantasy thing? Don’t think so. Regardless of that awesome Kanye West lyric, I’m not really into playing secretary and the boss. A fetish thing? Hm, that’s a whole different column. Analysis aside, there’s lots of great sex-that’s-not-sex-that-I-wish-was-actually-sex sex in Secretary. Rating: dirty and unnecessary. (A movie about S&M that’s passed off as not soft core porn? Awesome, but totally unnecessary.)

And, last but never least, the overly-long puppet sex scene from Team America: World Police. I don’t really wish that this was two real people having sex, but I do sort of wish that I was watching this puppet show live and listening to two puppet actors having to go at it with their marionettes. When you really get down to it, sex is clearly designed to be funny — and it’s rarely no strings attached, so I think that this sex-that’s-not-sex scene deserves a place in the cannon. I know that Being John Malkovich is the puppet sex standard, but the Parker/Stone collaboration more adequately satisfies the filth that I require. Rating: dirty, ridiculous, and highly unnecessary. In a word, perfect.

And what about you? What sex scenes do you find dirty? Hilarious? Unnecessary?

Turned On: The Star Wars Kama Sutra

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 04 May 2009 15:27:49 +0000

Editor’s Note: We here at FSR thought we should get a sex column, but it couldn’t just be any old, tired, worn-out, married for seventeen years and barely looking at each other while we brush our teeth and where did the love go sex column. It needed to be the best damned sex column on the face of the planet. And, of course, it had to involve film and television. Since no one that works (or contributes) to FSR has ever had sex, we had to turn to Bethany Perryman – a woman whose reputation and AdultFriendFinder profile precede her. Ladies and gentleman, every Monday, be prepared to fill or be filled.

Because it’s Star Wars day (as in, “May the 4^th be with you”), and because I had an eventful weekend, this week’s column takes a look at six progressively awesome renditions of my Star Wars Kama Sutra.

Episode I: The Phantom Menace

If you’re in a new relationship, or it’s late and she’s drunk, this might be the perfect time to introduce your love of Star Wars (and sex) to a special lady. Just because it says the word “phantom,” boys, don’t assume that you can get away with skimping on the foreplay. In fact, that’s what Episode I is really all about. To successfully execute “The Phantom Menace,” you’re going to want to reassure your partner that you can successfully negotiate a trade dispute. This essentially means a little give-and-take. Start off in a position that’s comfortable to her – try Raised Missionary. Just when she’s about to climax, show her that she needs to bring a little balance back to the Force. To do this, pick your own favorite position and go to Coruscant. Avoid making her call you Darth Maul, but do your best here to incorporate that awesome double light-saber. Once you’re finished, leave. And there you have it, The Phantom Menace.

Episode II: Attack of The Clones

So, you’ve made it to Date #2. Congratulations. “Attack of the Clones” works one of two ways: either she has a twin sister (you lucky Padawan, you), or do it in a room with strategically placed mirrors.

Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

Men, in this instance, I do not advocate a literal interpretation of the term Revenge. But it might just be time to get a little bit Dark Side. (Hey, be patient. Not that Dark Side. Yet.) Because this movie sees the advent of Darth Vader, you can get away this time with trying out all those bionic parts. The best position for this is The Plough (or, as I like to call it, Heels to Heaven), because she’ll have limited visibility and maximum pleasure, and no real idea whether there’s a Jedi Master or a mechanized arm at the helm. And don’t feel all threatened and screw it up for the next three episodes. Take a lesson from opening-scene Anakin, and just believe that “this is where the fun begins.”

Episode IV: A New Hope

I’ve got a great feeling about this. “A New Hope” brings exactly that – after Episode III, she’ll be begging for the original. Start with the tried and true Stand and Deliver, and you’ll be just the dude she’s looking for. After this, you’ve got two options: The Double Sunset or The Han Solo. If you want to make the suspense last, I’d try the former – you can Han Solo on your own time, buddy. This position requires you both seated, with her facing you and on top. If you get her to move slow enough, you’ll get a Double Sunset – several times. Bonus? Take a little more than 12 parsecs to make that Kessel run.

Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back

Break out the ice, because this sex session starts with Hoth. Utilized correctly, this technique will have her wanting you on the star system of your choosing. This sex-pisode is geared specifically for those who still believe that “size matters not.” (Let me break it to you gently: it does. It totally does.) But if you’re more Yoda than Space Worm, there’s hope for you yet. Let your X-wing rise and do the Degobah Doggie Style. Regardless of whether you’re more light saber or light saber handle, this position is guaranteed to have her wanting more. Try not to lose a hand, guys, because you’ll need it for the big finale.

Episode VI: Return of the Jedi

So, you’re officially a full-fledged Jedi Knight, and, if you’ve followed my instructions, there’s no doubt that the Force is with you. You’ve easily gotten her down to that gold bikini, but how do you compete with a second Death Star? Easy. Make sure her defenses are down, and she’ll be receptive to your stimulation of her reactor. That’s right, rebels, if you want to cement this alliance, you’ve gotta do it. You may need to enlist some pre-attack mapping, but I have confidence that you’ll find what you need. Many Bothans died to bring you that information. After the fact, her empire of inhibitions will have toppled for good—and maybe, just maybe, you can together explore the Dark Side.

Turned On, Tuned In: 5 Assholes I Hate to Love

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 17:00:05 +0000

In the world of sex, nice guys always finish last. As a woman, I appreciate this, guys. But there’s something undeniably sexy about assholes – even if they do finish first, and then tell you not to let your shame hit you on the way out. Men, being an asshole can be a sexy character flaw, but you must execute this artfully. Otherwise, you risk wasting a perfectly good terrible reputation on looking like a Johnny-come-early. My relationship history aside, I certainly advocate that you do everything humanly possible to cockblock that chip on your shoulder. But, if you’re gonna be an asshole, be one with style. Successfully imitate one or all of these 5 Assholes I Hate to Love, and I might be writing about a different type of column.

5. House from “House”

This guy can be an asshole simply because he’s brilliant. Though it’s not really a great strategy in the long run, it certainly buys you hoards of professional and legal leeway, as well as a great excuse to fraternize with hookers. Dr. House is a cynic, and – except for a few flashes of humanity here and there – a bona fide nihilist. So take up a sexy addiction to prescription drugs, do acid while charged with saving the lives of several helpless children, and repeat after me: “Everybody Lies.” Bonus points if you’re a gimp with a talent for piano and completely abusing your only friend, although these are not necessary ingredients – just icing on that sexy cake. If you want to get this sex columnist into bed, an ego concurrent to the size of your IQ, the occasional double-cross, and wreaking havoc on those attempting to be allies will work, every time.

4. Brodie from Mallrats

Oh, Brodie. You had me at “sleep under the bed on prom night in case my mom bursts in.” And I fell harder when breakfasts came and went, and Brenda (she’ll always be Brenda) had to climb out of your window because you couldn’t be bothered to pause your video hockey game.

Brodie is the type of guy who can quickly turn a phrase (“I hope to cum laude some day, preferably in a 69”), wax philosophical about the technical definition of a food court, and shamelessly stinkpalm his buddy’s future father-in-law. Women hate guys like Brodie (I don’t have it in me to call him a man), but they always seem to end up with them. To borrow a patented Brodie phrase, “I should know – we can smell our own.” There’s no use trying to understand it, boys, but all-around loser asshole guys will always get a girl. Berate and banter like Brodie, and you may yet see Smokey f*ck the Bandit.

3. Kenny Powers from “Eastbound and Down”

As a broke redneck former baseball star well past his 15 minutes of fame, Kenny Powers sets the bar low – and then limbos right under it. This guy is morally repugnant, an emotional child, and devoid of any redeeming qualities whatsoever. In a word: sizzling hot. So how does he get both the hooker and the girl? Kenny Powers is the Bulletproof Tiger – the man who believes, with unflinching self-confidence, that he is the best. He knows she wants it, whether she actually does or not. And with that kind of attitude, April Bigcannons (and I) can’t help but totally, totally want it.

Kenny really deserves his own column, and might just get one yet – I think he’s the hottest, biggest asshole I’ve seen in a long, long time. (Mark my words: “Eastbound and Down” is the new “M*A*S*H”.) Men, if you’re taking notes, get your hands on a copy of You’re F*cking Out, I’m F*cking In, break out your man thongs, jet skis, tall boys, and steroids – and you may score a home run with your one true love. And maybe get handies from a couple of her friends, too.

2. Beanie from Old School

My girlfriends (the funny ones, at least) are balls over Beanie. Mitch may be more physically attractive, and Frank may be The Tank, but it’s Beanie that has our panties God-knows-where. This guy is a huge asshole (“Do I look like a happy man to you, Frank?”), but he’s also a true blue bro. He’s the brains behind Mitchapalooza and the subsequent fraternity, but given the option of a 19 year old girl or the ol’ ball and chain, Beanie chooses wisely. He’s a new archetype of sexy – a huge, hilarious asshole, who you know deep down is a good enough guy (“It takes a man to give away an angel; you’re sweet.”). He’s a smooth talking, successful family man – and if you’re an asshole like him, you’ll get all the dude space that you need.

1. Han Solo from Star Wars

Everyone loves Han Solo. But make no mistake, this man is the consummate asshole. Who replies to the declaration of love from a freaking intergalactic princess with the words, “I know”?! This does not bode well for the less regal of my gender. This smuggling loner (at least at his outset) is 100% cocksure, and sporting a vest that would look good on exactly no one else in that galaxy far, far away. Han is emotionally unavailable and a hot-head, both unfortunate traits that attract women of all species like a Storm Trooper to a door frame. For a guy who sometimes amazes even himself, and becomes a hero to boot, he really is one of cinema’s great assholes. Why, you ask? Well, Han shot first.

Turned On, Tuned In: Gettin’ Handsy with Hank

Bethany Perryman — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 15:46:28 +0000

What’s turning me on this week?

Wood, balls, and lots and lots of stroking. You guys have cable, right?

You guessed it, I’m talking about the Golf Channel. In the best show that you’re not watching, The Haney Project, golf coaching legend Hank Haney attempts to repair and perfect Charles “Sir Charles” Barkley’s shitty golf swing. How can this be sexy? Oh, it can. And it is.

I have to admit: at first, I didn’t think that anything on the Golf Channel, ever, had the capacity to be a turn-on. Golf is supposed to a middle-aged snore. But there are some choice elements that render The Haney Project worthy of my Stamp of Sexy. First, it’s certainly not difficult to find pro athletes attractive, even ones past their physical prime. Sir Charles is funny, too—the ultimate turn-on—as he can take a dig and dish a joke all with the same charming smile. The veritable pantheon of sports figures young and old that come out in support of Sir Charles doesn’t hurt either—I’m looking at you, Anthony Kim. And here I am, looking at you again, baby.

But here’s the real turn-on: here we have a man, by all accounts a giant of a man, that’s trying to better himself. He’s been laughed at for the better part of a decade for his highly recognizable, wholly terrible swing, and instead of backing down in the face of countless failures—Sir Charles is determined to prove to himself, his buddies, and the world that he can do much, much better. After watching several episodes, the feat seems quixotic—it’s painful to watch, more painful I’m sure for him to perform. But Sir Charles doesn’t give up. And that, sports fans, is just plain hot.

Especially when mixing metaphors, sports psychology has some great parallels to sex: my wingpeople often have to take one for the team—so that I can score, of course. And we’ve all fallen victim to the embarrassing technical foul. A good friend of mine recently struck out, even though he went for the Hail Mary (with, ironically, a girl named Mary who did, in fact, give him hell). But unlike my good buddy, Sir Charles is no rookie in sex, sports, or life—in fact, he was arrested on New Year’s Eve for drunkenly attempting to drive around a corner to get a second round of “the best blowjob he’d ever had in his life.” (via The Smoking Gun) Clearly his short game is not the problem.

There’s a lesson to be learned in all of this: set your DVR correctly. Because I am sadly missing episode two of The Haney Project—which, if it were an episode of Friends would be called “The One Where Sir Charles Has A Crappy Enough Golf Swing To Hilariously And Simultaneously Shank A Ball And Break His Club”. But there’s another, more universal lesson, too. And it’s this: no matter how well you can chip and pitch—it’s the long drive that needs the most work.

A lifetime of good sex is not a sprint, but a marathon—and in order to maintain, sometimes you’ve got to go to the tape, analyze your stroke, and work tirelessly towards a better tomorrow. (On the show, this is a segment of each episode that I personally like to call “Handsy with Haney”.) So take heart, all you down and out champions—you can take your Mulligan, adjust your stance, and regroup—and know that I’m rootin’ for you all the way.

Thanks for all of your questions this week; keep sending ‘em my way, and I’ll answer soon. And a special thanks to my readers in Iraq—aside from those colorful ideas that you sent me, let me know if there’s anything else I can do to Support Our Troops. This one’s for you, Steve J.

Turned On: An Ode to Spock’s Vulcan Ears

Bethany Perryman — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 14:53:04 +0000

What’s turning me on this week?

I’ll tell you what’s not: Rejection. In fact, I’d venture to guess that almost all sexual beings loathe those three little words, “Not tonight, honey.” This week, rejection is killing me: I know that the editorial staff at FSR HQ has already seen the new Star Trek movie, and I can’t get them to talk to me about it. These self-proclaimed Rejects have become serial rejecters, which are some of the most hated yet sought-after men that you’ll find. These guys won’t tell me anything, no matter how many of my single friends I promise to hook them up with. I read their reviews, helped the staff with their girl troubles, watched Neil on TV, and all with the same result: I am no closer to the new Star Trek movie than you are. And believe me, people, it’s driving me batty.

That being said, the thing that is turning me on more than a light-switch this week is: The New Star Trek Trailer.

None too many hours before the FSR guys were watching the world premiere of Star Trek in my home state of Texas, at a famous Austin movie theater that I’ve 1st-based in with my own share of cowboys, I was at a matinee showing of I Love You, Man with my girlfriends here in DC. At this point in my life, I thought I was simply looking forward to Paul Rudd’s cute mug, and the fleeting hope of another satisfyingly hot-larious full-frontal scene with Jason Segel a-la Forgetting Sarah Marshall. But it was soon made clear that what I had really gone to the movies for that day was to be teased and titillated by the trailer for the new Star Trek.

I’ve seen all of the Star Trek films—but I don’t watch Heroes, I’m fervently pro-Star Wars, and, um, I’m a girl—so I’d blissfully missed out on all of this hype until I saw the preview on the silver screen. And it was unforgettable, like going from “Come here often?” to 2nd-and-a-half-base-by-the-restrooms to “Let’s skip drinks and just get a cab”—all in a whirlwind two minutes. By the way, that will happen to you and not be creepy only once in your dating life. Once if you’re very, very lucky.

The universe, warp speed, Chris Pine, who? I don’t even care, that man is a skin-deep vision as James Tiberius. And I’d be lying if I told you that that Spock character hasn’t shown up all over my dreams. (I just imagine him without the Vulcan ears. This is not a fetish column.) I really hope that these guys are getting some sweet-hot nerd tail in these final days of post-production. Other people that should be getting laid as a direct result of this film? Art directors. Simon Pegg. CGI folks. Whoever made those hot star ships come to life and implode that planet or whatever. Because it’s not just the leading men who turned me on this week, it’s the entirety of the short viewing experience that has my sensibilities atwitter. Look, you Trekkies may believe that space is the final frontier, but I straight up know that it is sex.

Men, some women tease for benevolent reasons, and not because they are evil or tricky or wish to confuse you from heart to happy trail. I personally tease because it’s fun, and—listen up here—because I like being teased a little myself. Built-up anticipation with the promise of a big, um, payoff at the end is what foreplay—here in the form of a truly fantastic movie trailer—is all about. (Why do you think they call them teasers? Not an accident.) And on May 8th, I anticipate a three hour long, highly rewarding payoff. It’s a tall order, yes, but I believe that Star Trek can deliver.

And what exactly happens if this woman is left unsatisfied? The same old things. Some will say it’s my fault for assuming that the action would be as good as what I’ve experienced with other Star Trek films, some will defensively blame me for judging an end product by its preview, and some will blame the Trek for underperforming. But I will know that both “Star Trek” and I gave it our best shot. And that will be OK. Extended foreplay that leads to an ultimately dissatisfying climax and countless rejections alike, these things can teach us something about ourselves—if we let them. They can help us become more acutely aware of who and how we are. So what do I do? I remain optimistic and, ahem, trek forward.

Watch the trailer that absolutely made me squirm here:

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