PornoPOV.com

Or effin’ hi-def. It’s come of age.

French director Catherine Breillat used Italian porn stallion Rocco Siffredi in Anatomy of Hell and Romance, “real” Euro-indie film spilling over, so to speak into XXX-world.

Baise-Moi (Rape Me) is a notorious French chick-vengeance flick with explicit hardcore sex.

The sex was simulated in the notorious rape scene of Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible, but the psychic scorch remains etched in memory, cinematic no-holds-barred attraction-revulsion to ass-rape/beating of Monica Belluci, an iconic beauty who then extends her martyred erotic aura into boilerplate cyber-gnosis, in The Matrix Reloaded. 

Then there’s Nagisa Oshima’s explicit take on an obsessive true sex story, In the Realm of the Senses, of which Madonna blurbed: “It turns me on because it’s real.”

Or Michael Winterbottom’s 9 Songs — not because it quite cuts it, in its odd clinical explicitness, but because any hardcore alt poet would want to do it over again, the mix of fucking and alt rock, and a better-realized narrative enhancement, of a better-realized sexual enactment and relationship. The actress, Margo Stilley, is stuck between the gonzo of the porn star, and the “stretched parameters” of a “serious actress.” Hence, the middling girl gone mild vibe of a sex instruction DVD. Kieran O’Brien coolly lends his uncut tool to the uncut proceedings.

If memory serves, anyway.

By the way, did Chloe Sevigny swallow Vincent Gallo’s jizz in The Brown Bunny?

I reviewed Upload, from the award-winning XXX side of the fence, and it was built on a cyberpunk boilerplate, with optional add-ons, sex-scene-wise. It has more story sinew than the above-mentioned “real movies” tho’ there is still more subtlety up close, the poetic inside with the real reels.

Personally, I would be intrigued to see Gaspar Noe’s psychic intensity fused to Eli Cross’s cerebral porn intensity. Recalibrate the violence. Hammer out new boilerplate out of artcore thriller, gonzo XXX, smart genre grit. I suppose it might take a mix of porn muscle and indie film nuance to upgrade from both camps, since I think there is still plenty of room for creative evolution in the examination of implicit and explicit intimacies.

Greg Dark crossed from porn to B-thrillers. I’ll have to check that out. Then one thinks: why does there have to be “cross-over”? What if one were into AdultAdult expression, meaning the compartmentalization of formats is just an antique convenience, not an indication of what something actually is, if that thing is freely intelligent in design enough.

Well at least one can artcore hardcore from either indie or porn camp. Probably the difference is in calibrations: less sex, more emotive nuance; more sex, less emotive nuance — tho’ the genre-bust is in the full execution.

Retool Winterbottom’s 9 Songs to mood check with Chris Marker’s Le Jetee, then pulp-pound it back out through Cross’s howling assfuck dungeon. Now I want to see 9 Songs again; rewrite. Do.

What’s truly intriguing is exploring the spectrum of Zen awareness, Romantic embrace, Dom/sub edges intensified to shamanic overdrive, paranormal OBEs, transcendent awe.

Like, what’s the view from Planet_X? What if raw fucking retained its power while being a trope for other psycho-spiritual-societal explorations? Gives “fuckit” priority shifts a new meaning. Get the butter, for The Last Fandango in Cairo.

Gutfuck, heartfuck, mindfuck. Rated XYZ. XYZ-factor is WHO or WHAT is fucking. Shapeshifters. Libidinal mystery. New spontaneous rituals. Oblivion fuck tours. Sweetly shocked chakras spinning.

Here’s a spontaneous riff in the spirit of Kathy Acker: Tho’ she had a PhD in comparative lit, she insisted her only resume was deep-throating 9″ post-gag reflex on psilocybin, spanking her clit, and twirling her tongue in the trails of spermatozoon on fire. She served the roaring sky god swallowing, yes, but her throat owned the joystick of  military history. That made her Queen of All Embodiment.

Next: pornosophic avant pop lit via Kathy Acker, Mark Amerika, et al? James Ellroy’s smutty alliteration? Roland Barthes’ The Pleasure of the Text?

The Marquis de Sade evolved from an aristocratic active/passive buggerer and flogger to an ironic moralist of a more savage Swiftian ilk.

Angela Carter in The Sadeian Woman writes: “Fucking,” says Sade, “is the basis of all human relationships but the activity parodies all human relations because of the nature of the society that creates and maintains those relationships.”

Hence, Sade’s ferocious skewering of bourgeous hypocrisy — a state of “normality” which persists today, particularly evident in the pursuit of obscenity cases against the adult entertainment industry by faux bastions of propriety whose private lives and/or public policies would reveal a more thoroughgoing definition of obscenity under laser mirror scrutiny.

This is the point-of-view continuum from a satellite orbiting the earth, extreme long shot.

Extreme close-up brings us to p.o.v. as XXX product subset, wherein gonzo flesh pounding brings a certain fierceness of virtual desire into your hungry voyeuristic lap.

Fuck religion, fuck politics, fuck education, fuck the rampant obscene hypocrisy which largely informs those would-be presumptions of ethics, intelligence, spirituality, rule. Training cubicles for “well-adjusted” sheepdom, or wolfish exploitation do not constitute any enduring value save real obscenity.

Porn workers are gladiators, echoing Martin Amis in Pornoland. Gladiators who increasingly win their greater freedom in the business itself, through growing intelligent responsibility. It is not enough for PornWorld to merely insist on its right to exist, as it has, invariably, and usually suffering persecution, throughout history.

The Sadeian ethic understood informs a Gnostic inversion of society’s sleepwalking presumptions.

Sacred whoredom does not have to justify itself to wholesale half-assedness.

Since capitalism is the true religion shared by bourgeois pretense, and sexual gladiators alike, an adult entertainment coalition averring an ironic, paradoxical, superior Sadean ethic would be a triumphant coup for libido’s true seniority in the public/pubic discourse. Think Picasso’s “Sardonic Sublime.”

Of course this ideal requires more intelligence in the adult entertainment business, and therein lies the rub. Radical, or root intelligence tends to be the great orphan in any endeavor.

I return to Eli Cross, Sade meets techgnosis, because his Upload is the only boilerplate I’m aware of with the potential to raise the bar.

Back to the narrowcast: The Upload example is a Feature loaded with gonzo, which is the staple of p.o.v. What upgrades the p.o.v. category, with its appeal of you-are-there quasi-virtuality?

It would depend on the emotive connection of the sexual gladiators and the nature of what is said.

There’s a clue in Last Tango in Paris, when Brando vents re the hypocrisies of church and family when he’s faux-fucking Maria Schneider in the ass, following notorious “Go get the butter,” line:

What are you doing? I’m gonna tell you about the family. That holy institution meant to breed virtue in savages. I want you to repeat it after me. No and no! No! Repeat it. Say, “Holy family.” Come on, say it. Go on. Holy family. Church of good citizens. Church…Good citizens. Good citizens…Say it. Say it! The children are tortured until they tell their first lies. The children…are tortured…Where the will is broken by repression. Where the will… broken… repression. Where freedom…Free…Freedom!…is assassinated. Freedom is assassinated by egotism. Family…Family…You…You…You…You f…You…fucking…fucking…family. You fucking…family! Oh, God… Jesus. Oh, you…Oh…Shit!

Now that’s a dialogic context for assfucking, in the spirit of Sade.

Porn is the secret history of civilization, and drives new tech, new markets — which in turn has a tranformative effect on the overall societal grid as we know it.

“Far from viewing cyber-pornographers as pariahs, society would do well to view them as mountain men and women in the mold of Jedediah Smith, who discovered and opened the passes of the Rockies for entire families to follow west. These early rogues were scruffy and smelly, perhaps not fit for polite society, but they did good service. Though uncivilized, they showed the roads for civilization to follow. We need not let the cyber-pioneers into every home, but society will benefit hugely by letting them roam free.” — Peter Johnson

“Sexuality and eroticism are the intricate intersection of nature and culture” — Camille Paglia

On the everyday level, many of today’s porn stars are increasingly more self-empowered regarding the fruits of their labors. That reconnects their lineage to the temple courtesans of ancient times, and neutralizes the sordid shadow side of history associated with the business of graphically depicting a full-range of human sexual behavior. Whatever one’s taste is regarding sexual products, it is vital to the health of the culture to begin to reassess its institutions, and to recalibrate what is meant by “freedom,” and what is meant by “obscenity.”

Although there is no disputing the broad-based emphasis on so-termed adult products being primarily for entertainment purposes, the recent obscenity case (yes, the “law” still mucks about with this, even when no children are involved) against John Stagliano, points up the great importance of the adult entertainment industry assuming responsibility for an ethic that preempts the long siege of religio-political pretensions to the high ground — which, given the facts of history, is the real obscenity. The ethic I am referring to is thoroughgoing creative awareness.

To paraphrase maverick writer Mark Amerika, from his novel Sexual Blood, ethics don’t come from religion, religion comes from ethics, to the extent the former has any meaning whatsoever.

The porn star on the rack is your true desire under intense interrogation. That can be a BDSM scene pushed to shamanic transcendence by your own informed consent, or it can be the decidedly non-arousing fascistic machinations of church and state.

We can no longer afford to compartmentalize or ignore the entire situation of our arising. Even blase reductionism is a philosophy, and whatever you don’t want to deal with will most decidedly come back to bite you in the ass. Pornosophy is one of the means of expressing a willingness to deal with the radical inversions of meaning applications that real intelligence demands.

In the spirit of the above, here’s a link to an .mp3 song of mine, “Slant.”