Sex
Come in, Kiefer
The new series "24" brings back the kind of sexuality Bogart and Mitchum had, back when.
If ever there was a TV series that risked cancellation before its debut it was “24.” No, I am not talking about the inadvertent ways in which its story line might remind us of the events of Sept. 11. After all, postponement could muffle that. But postponement meant that all through the baseball playoffs (and that was a series most of us wanted not to end), we were subjected to the ordeal of “24″‘s moronic promotion. I knew lines and looks from the show by heart before the Oakland A’s were eliminated. And all the while I was asking myself whether Fox really expected me to take any of this remotely seriously, with Kiefer Sutherland in the lead.
Talk about damaged goods. You could get out a reference book and prove that Kiefer William Frederick Dempsey George Rufus Sutherland wouldn’t be 35 until December 2001. No matter, I had this feeling that he’d been around too long for his or our good. The baby face was beginning to rot at the edges. That drugged voice seemed too weary or incredulous to go all the way with its own lines. Kiefer Sutherland was the kind of actor a low-budget movie started looking for when its own deals were collapsing and no one on the picture was sure it was anything more than a money-laundering operation being run out of Canada and Lucerne. That’s when you remembered that Kiefer Sutherland was Canadian, too.
Vaguely, I recalled his pig-nasty Lt. Kendrick from “A Few Good Men” — the fascist who’d carry coals to hell for the Jack Nicholson character — and I remembered the moment, 10 years ago, when he really looked like a kid in “Young Guns” and “Flatliners,” and when Julia Roberts had dumped him. He’d had half a moment then, maybe. But it had been downhill ever since — working on TV, in projects that went straight to cable, video, the Southwest or the shelf. I thought of Sutherland as the bloated rapist who is nearly torn to pieces by Reese Witherspoon in “Freeway.” There he was — just 30 — and he was a figure for our derision. And he was the lead in “24″?
Well, one episode has it settled, as far as I’m concerned. Tuesday nights at 9 are going to be Jack Bauer and “24″ for some little while. Those promos weren’t so much begging us to watch or remember. They were just cockamamie happy because they’ve got a hit. And by Christmas, if you ask me, it’s going to be taken for granted that Kiefer Sutherland has put sexuality — like Bogart or Mitchum sexuality — back on TV.
There are going to be plenty of occasions when you can’t exactly work out what is happening in “24,” or when you have to try explaining to someone new to the show that, yes, all the women are lean, dark, slinky and edgy. Don’t bother too much which is which. Just think of them as moths fluttering around Kiefer Sutherland, playing musical chairs when the last chair is his mouth. In other words, from the first episode the show hit its style, its mood, its breathing level — and the center of gravity in “24″ is about an inch under Kiefer’s nostrils. He’s always been a heavy breather, in the sense of menace, but now you just want to feel that he might inhale you — and this Sutherland has the heft and the promise that could suck nails out of the wall with his sighs.
It’s a show about a guy in government security, with an untidy home life — he has a daughter who is snaking around, and he has a wife and an ex-lover on the job who are both as edgy as hell because they know that neither one is the sole object of his sighs. So far. There will likely be more. Not that I think we are ever going to be tested on the synopsis details. The test is whether you get and like Kiefer Sutherland as an old-fashioned guy with integrity. The story setup reminded me a bit of Michael Mann’s “Heat” (and evoking Mann on series TV is a good start), but the real reference is to that kind of battered integrity we treasure from the ’40s. And that’s why I don’t think anyone is going to be offended if “24″ gets very close to the events or the dread of Sept. 11. Because we’re going to be with Kiefer.
So there’s something new in the world — out of the apparent wreck of a career, a sexpot is born. They might even have Julia begging them for a guest spot.
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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