More Feminist Porrn

Trigger Warnings: Discussion of pornography, NSFW, Video of an Asshole

1. Having come down rather hard on SQIFF's Feminist Porn selection (suggesting that it was mis-titled and condemning the pretension of Marit Ostberg's contributions), I'd like to dwell on a work that didn't fill me with anger and frustration, but missed the mark both as pornography and feminist film-making. 

Shave Me, Mirror Me is not pornography. Director, and star, Lasse Rusk, has made a personal 'transsexual erotic movie about wanting to kill your inner man and be reborn into mother earth'. It's got a bit of hot cock wanking action, but mostly consists of Lasse's transformation (to looking a bit like early Prince, which is kinda sexy, though). 

2. Pornography has a very clear intention: to get the audience off. Erotica (bearing in mind that old joke - erotica is what I like, porn is what you like) aims at something more complex, but is really just a more pleasant tag for sexy material. Erotica is possibly a better term to use in this context, since it lacks the stigma of pornography (the root in Greek implies that it describes the actions of prostitutes).

And Lasse is an undeniably erotic presence through the film. But as the reference to mother earth suggests in the description, there's a bunch of New Age bullshit structuring the adventure. Lasse adds in some unpleasant comments on masculinity (it's all violence and machismo, apparently) that connects back to less nuanced Radical Feminism (a feminism that has little time for trans identity). 

Most of Shave Me follows Lasse's journey, which is fine, if a little self-indulgent. There's plenty of chat about friendship, past or possible sexual encounters, but little context. By being so apolitical, Lasse might be making another point (not all trans film has to be about the politics). But it is also a film about a small group of people, with little displayed consciousness about the wider meanings of gender.

3. Even if the film is about sex, that does not make it porn. But the charge that it isn't feminist is more tricky. The lack of explicit political awareness isn't necessarily a problem, although it is frustrating. Where it gets confused is in the final sequence, which pitches live action child-birth against Lasse dancing about in nature.

While I reject most essentialism about gender, giving birth is one of those things that remain, at the moment, the domain of cis-gendered women. I mean literally giving birth, not having children.

Juxtaposing that with an under-developed ritual to cleanse Lasse of masculinity was not a powerful move. It undermined the point. In my opinion, of course. 

4. So the failure as a feminist film consists of presenting childbirth as a marker of identity. Discuss, if you like. 

Feminist Porn

Trigger Warnings: Discussion of pornography, NSFW, violent sexual fantasies

1. One day, I am going to learn.

Part of SQIFF, this selection of short films seemed the perfect opportunity to address the conflict between my libido and my desired social identity. On the one hand, I am aware of the systemic oppression of women through patriarchal ideas of beauty and eroticism: on the other, I have a filthy mind that I hope to contain within the wider context of social responsibility.

2. Right...

After that introduction, forgive me if I ramble.

Certain atheists  accuse feminism of poisoning things: in this case, it feels as if porn is doing the poisoning. Intrigued as I was to experience women-friendly erotica, four of the films managed to be self-defeating and obnoxious, while the other two (On Your Back and Neurosex Pornoia Episode 2) were playful and experimental, respectively.

3. I didn't really want to write a qualitative assessment of the selection. It feels important that the conversation about feminism porn happens in a safe environment, where matters like ratings are ignored for a broader consideration of the possibilities of feminist pornography.

But the quality of this work is important. Its aesthetic failures prevent the discussion. Some of the pieces (Authority) present enough sex to count as porn, others (Shave Me, Mirror Me) make do with a cheeky wank and ponderous meditations on gender. The interview with director Marit Ostberg, however, is a testament to a painfully self-indulgent, self-regarding vision of both feminism and art.

4. Feminist interventions into pornography (and sex work) have become difficult. The debate over lap-dancing generated by the under-considered legislation knocking about the Scottish Parliament encouraged my insistence that any use of the word feminism needs an adjective to clarify its position. 

While I recognise the right of people living in an area to define its tone (the legislation seems to be aiming at this), a more active feminist response might be to ensure that the women who work in the clubs are not being exploited, financially or emotionally. The same applies to pornography: feminist erotica would be made by performers who are getting paid and treated right. Maybe unionised, even?

5. In Marit, the interview with Ostberg, there are repeated references to the politics of her films. She never really explains what the politics are - she recognises that she didn't consider them in the making, and only the circumstances of one film's release forced her to discuss it. There is a vague idea that her working methods (the performers are not doing it for money, they are friends) is an anti-capitalist provocation.

Set alongside a showing of her Authority, however, this is not good enough. Having said that the politics were secondary to the act of making the films (although the sexuality she portrays is consciously queer and she makes a point about making the films because she wanted to represent it, which makes it a political action...), she connects her work to anti-pornography feminists of the 1970s (apparently, it is the same struggle), and answers potential critiques of her material (isn't it rather close to mainstream pornography) with a useless 'it's a paradox' or 'it's interesting'.

It probably is interesting, although saying that it is fails to unravel why it might be.

6. Authority, one of the two Ostberg shorts shown in the programme fails to make much of a political point. Apart from the terrible lighting, which renders her performers pale and insipid, and the weak editing, the actual sex on show is violent. 

Okay, so it plays a game, in the relationship between a criminal and a police-officer - there is a vague ironic reversal of power. The low production values might offer the veneer of alternative cinema, but the sex itself is generic and abusive.

That is not to say it is non-consensual, or documents an act of abuse (Ostberg is clear about her performers' desire to act out the fantasies). But it does represent a fantasy of sexual violence. This kind of material is open to exactly the same critique as mainstream violent pornography: that it depraves the audience.

That critique might be invalid, but that the difference between Authority and New Wave Hookers ends up being pretty minimal. And I'm sure Crusty Porn can present low quality film making just as effectively. 

7. Ostberg's redeeming feature is her wit: her other short, Ladybeard, is funny. And there is a joke at the end of Authority which is worth a titter. That's not enough to justify a copper getting pumped off a night-stick, though. People walked out, and I am assuming that they were offended by the content. 

That is people who came to see feminist porn... not by mistake. 

8. The big problem here is that I am a guy trying to decide whether the porn is feminist. It's not obvious that I have the right to decide. I can say I was disgusted by Authority and my memory of it makes me want to avoid pornography. So, maybe she is working in the tradition of Dworkin. 

But if feminist porn means porn aimed at women, then I need to shut up (or be taken as a single, subjective voice). But another word came up in the interview with Ostberg, one that is not surprising in the context of SQIFF.

It is a queer festival and the adjective that this programme needed was queer. There is no reason that feminist porn can't be hetero-normative. But this selection was consciously queer, and the 'feminist' tag was dishonest. 

I'm realising that my qualitative assessment is becoming increasingly negative.

9. I have a great deal of doubt about publishing this - not just in case my mum reads it, but because I value events like SQIFF, and my experience of the festival is positive. I also value the opening up of the conversation around pornography (it is not going to disappear and take away all of the problems around it (guilt, exploitation, commodification of desire, the imposition of fantasies onto women and men, trans-gendered men and women, ethinic groups et cetera...)). 

Feminist porn and queer porn seem like a good idea. This discussion is important. Even my halting opinions have a value. 

Coming Soon: Thoughts on Trans Porn and the Use of the word Queer (and why SQIFF have got it right, in my opinion). 

Robo-Critic

Your Aesthetics are Your Ontology...

Coming Soon... Vile Meets The Giants

He has reviewed shows that did not exist. He was trounced in print by Rob Drummond. He ran a dance magazine at the Fringe. Gareth K Vile has been many things in his career, and most of them have helped him to blot out the memory of his years as a Latin teacher.

But this time, will he go too far? Many years ago, Vile cycled out to Skye. Ostensibly to catch an NVA performance at the Old Man of Storr, it became a battle against his deepest emotions and the elements. Since that day, Vile has stuck to the cities.

This summer, he is heading back on the road. Join him here as he travels in pursuit of The Giants in The Forest. Scattered around Scotland, these Giants merge technology, creativity and nature. The mixture of community action and art was too much for Vile to ignore - and like a Pokemon obsessive, he's gotta get them all.

Thrill as he gets lost in a square mile of forest in the middle of the night.

Laugh as he falls off his bike into the gorse.

Weep at the moments when he finds the glade of the giants.

Wonder why he has decided to pretend he is a beat poet.

Ponder with him on the nature of urban and rural life.

And share the adventure...

Oh Please, Just Stop: Critical Process Pondered. Again.

In a recent article in The Metro, when asked to respond to the increased importance of social media in the critical process, Barry Norman claimed that "the biggest obligation is to the readers, viewers and listeners," and defines honesty as the criteria for a "good reviewer." While it is a clear and solid piece of advice for critics, it doesn't really address the article's core issue - that the internet has allowed everyone to think that they are a critic. His subsequent comment ("the professional critic should have seen a hell of a lot more films than the amateur") gets closer to the point, although whether my obsessive viewing of Pasolini really helps me to judge  Iron Man 3 is a moot point.

Being prone to introspection, Norman has set me off thinking about the purpose of criticism. Since The Metro article ends with the opinions of a film PR, there's the underlying assumption that a review's main purpose is either attracting or warning off potential audiences. That works for film (and albums), which might explain why movies and music get more space in traditional press. Unfortunately, there's a fair proportion of theatre that won't get long enough runs to need a glowing press commendation.

It is a pretty esoteric question - why do I think theatre criticism is worth spending my life on? - but it might answer some of the questions about my own subjectivity. Sure, my enthusiasms for Jesuit spirituality, scientific method and classical Greek theatre are bound to inform my opinions - as are the relative tightness of my belt and the comfort of my seat. But in the last few weeks, I have noticed that my opinions on certain performances, which aren't necessarily in accord with either audience reaction or the other critics (whom I respect), can be related to my belief in the nature of criticism.

Admittedly, I probably took my faith a little far when I shouted that the job of the critic is to be a witness ("in both a legal and religious sense," I hollered, much to the bemusement of my fellow passengers on the train into Glasgow). And it does go back to my undergraduate study of ancient tragedy: I regard art as the place where ideas get discussed, and the critical process is the further discussion of those ideas.

So, something like Poke or Wuthering Heights (both winners of The Arches Platform 18 Award) are both "my kind of theatre." It's not even that I agree with the politics in the pieces - Poke's representation of masculinity frightens me, because it might be true and the penis might be mightier than the mind. But against Scottish Ballet's revival of Highland Fling, they are all about forwarding conversations. I've been deliberately mentioning them in fragments across the blog, never making any real aesthetic judgments but alighting on ideas, letting them sit. Highland Fling, meanwhile, is a bit of a laugh, but I am not sure it has that much to say about Scottish identity or the nature of erotic fixation - a more aesthetic analysis would be closer to the choreographer's intentions.

I have also been left feeling uncomfortable about plays that inhibit the conversation around a subject. Quiz Show is full of fantastic facts - yet to discuss its core issue is to give away the twist in the tale. At risk of invoking Plato (and revealing my relative idiocy), I have a moral problem with this - not an aesthetic one.

But this is my problem - not theatre's. It might help to explain why I prefer certain productions, or excuse my frequent failure to include those essential features of the review ("this actor was good, that director was imaginative"). I am throwing out a few questions - the joy of a blog is never concluding, never conforming to the format of beginning, middle and end...