Sex
“Late Night Shopping”
Sometimes life is just keeping death at bay.
I saw a film the other night that had this terrific situation. The picture is “Late Night Shopping,” directed by Saul Metzstein, and as far as I could see or guess it was shot and set in Glasgow, Scotland. All it is, really, is four young people, bored with their dead-end jobs, who meet most nights in a shabby cafe. It’s their habit, but they’re too pissed off with life, and too numb, to notice or admit how far they are friends.
Anyway, here’s the situation. One of the four is Sean, a rather sweet, passive guy who works as a hospital porter on the night shift. He has a girlfriend — or he thinks he has. They live together, but they had a row and she does day work, so they don’t actually meet. He’s not even certain that she’s still using their flat. He measures the bar of soap in the shower to guess whether she’s been there. It’s sick and creepy, but he’s at the ragged end of his rope.
And being a night-shift hospital porter is part of that — because the nub of the job is that there’s nothing to do. At night, the hospital is all empty corridors, patients trying to sleep, the general business of cleaning and polishing going on as quietly as possible so as not to wake anyone. And Sean is so emptied out of life and will that silent polishing is his thing. There’s a lot of that mood in Britain now. It’s not so much self-pitying, as a dead-on, unsentimental insistence on the question “Why bother with the alleged good things of life?” Sometimes it gets pretty sad and bitter, but I liked “Late Night Shopping” because it sees the funny side of the drab point of view.
Well, one night, in a bored sort of way, Sean does a bit of exploring in the hospital, and he finds a room where a guy is stretched out attached to more tubes than he’s got limbs and orifices. He’s flat out, in a coma. Perfectly all right otherwise — not so very far from Sean, if you see what I mean. Until, a few nights later, Sean realizes that this guy in a coma has a visitor — a pretty blond girl.
It turns out that that the blond and the guy had been going together for several months. The girl tells Sean that it wasn’t working. She was getting her nerve up to tell the guy it was all over when, bingo, one day at work the guy noticed drops of blood falling on the page he was reading. And it was falling out of his nose. And that’s the last thing he knew. He’s been in a coma for months, and the pretty girl was in what you might call a quandary. Because, after all, it was hardly nice to walk out on him now, was it?
It’s one of those things where anyone watching the film gets the point just a bit ahead of Sean — I told you, he’s close to comatose, too. But it isn’t long before the pretty blond is kissing him and making it quite clear how urgently she needs a bit of relief. Where are they going to do it? On the guy’s bed, of course, so shove him over and take care not to unhook any of his tubes. Before you know it, they’re reaffirming the life spirit.
And Sean, the idiot, really falls for her, until one day he comes looking for her and he finds her with another of the hospital porters. Whereupon Sean turns to look at the guy in a coma, and the poor stiff opens one eye — urged back to life, as it were, by the rising sap around him. I won’t tell you any more — and there’s a lot more — in case you catch up with the picture one day. But it confirmed that great dream I’ve had about hospitals at night — it may go back to the first time I read “A Farewell to Arms” — about how surgical gowns are made to keep death at bay.
David Thomson is the author of "A Biographical Dictionary of Film" (new edition just published), "Rosebud: The Story of Orson Welles" and "In Nevada." More David Thomson.
Massage therapists rubbed wrong by sex talk
A Jennifer Love Hewitt show and the Travolta allegations have masseuses tired of being confused for sex workers
(Credit: iStockphoto/sybanto) Joe, a licensed massage therapist, knows what it’s like having a famous client who expects something extra. He had an Academy Award-winning actor begin gyrating on his massage table before raising his hips in the air to show off his erection. “He was hoping that I would play with him in some shape or form,” he says.
Needless to say, Joe isn’t surprised by allegations by two masseurs that John Travolta got handsy during massages. (Travolta’s attorney has denied all the allegations, and called them “ridiculous.”) “It happens all the time,” he says, and not just with celebrity clients. He frequently encounters men who try to fondle him, usually while he’s working on their glutes or lower back and their hand happens to be level with his crotch. “They think they’re so original, but they’re all so much the same,” Joe says, his voice rising. “They all use the same tactics, the same body movements, the same gyrations and grinding my table, the [heavy] breathing.”
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
A night at the vibrator museum
Early vibrators were hand-cranked, two-person jobs -- and prescribed by doctors. How far we've come since then
(Credit: Antique Vibrator Museum) I can now say that I’ve used a turn-of-the-century vibrator — on my hand, but still.
The silver, hand-cranked contraption is usually kept behind glass at Good Vibrations’ Antique Vibrator Museum in San Francisco — but staff sexologist Carol Queen made a rare exception. “This is very special,” she whispered, unlocking the case and carefully pulling out Dr. Johansen’s Auto Vibrator, a relic from 1904. The “auto” part is not so much: It was a two-person job, with her having to crank the device’s handle to get it thrumming. Pressing my finger tips to its inch-wide circular platform of pleasure, I was pleasantly surprised by its power.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
Maggie Gyllenhaal on sexual liberation
The beloved indie star tells Salon about her "vibrator movie" and why she loves playing transgressive women
Maggie Gyllenhaal (Credit: Reuters/Mark Blinch) When I met Maggie Gyllenhaal about six weeks ago, she was enormously and gloriously pregnant, stretching out on a sofa with her shoes off and feet up in a Manhattan office building. (Since that time, Gyllenhaal and husband Peter Sarsgaard have welcomed their second daughter, Gloria Ray, to the world.) We were there to talk about “Hysteria,” the charming, lightweight feminist farce from director Tanya Wexler that explores a key event in the history of female sexuality: the invention of the vibrator by Mortimer Granville, a Victorian doctor who was seeking to cure the mysterious “female malady” that lends the movie its title.
Continue Reading CloseMother-daughter sexperts
Susie Bright and her daughter, Aretha, make parental talks about sex look easy -- and fun
Most parents loathe talking to their kids about the birds and the bees, let alone pubic hair grooming, faked orgasms and “water sports” — but most parents are not legendary “sexpert” Susie Bright.
Better than talking about these things, she penned an advice column in 2009 with her daughter, Aretha, then 19, for the ladyblog Jezebel. Their answers to questions about everything from porn to Paxil were unflinching but playful, and at times controversial. Now the pair have collected those columns into a new e-book, “Mother/Daughter Sex Advice.” Together, they read as an irreverent version of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” for the Internet age. The mother-daughter team also reflect on what the experience of writing the column was like, and it turns out it wasn’t as weird as many would think: For the most part, it was just a continuation of conversations they had been having throughout Aretha’s life.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
On the rack: A cultural history of breasts
Did breasts evolve for lactation or to enhance sex appeal? A new book explores why they matter
(Credit: iStockphoto/NadyaPhoto) It’s hard to be boobs. Sure, breasts are cherished as givers of milk and the pinnacle of sex appeal, but the modern world hasn’t been good to mammaries.
As Florence Williams writes in “Breasts: A Natural and Unnatural History,” they’re the most tumor-prone organ in the human body. They “soak up pollution like a pair of soft sponges,” and transmit environmental toxins to babies through breast milk. “Breasts are bellwethers for the changing health of people,” she says. While we’ve “genetically modified our crops to be able to protect them from the ill effects of pesticides,” Williams writes, “we haven’t yet figured out how to modify our breasts.” Aside from using saline and silicone, of course.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
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