Sex
Be still my heart
The old movie stills were often sexier than the movies they were meant to publicize.
We seldom pause to ask ourselves the question “What is a film still?” So if I answer that it is a gesture of erotic possibility, bear with me a moment, and please trust that I am not just pushing a square object into a round hole. Nor finding one more way of asserting that everything comes down to sexuality. It does, but I recognize how unwholesome that idea can sound in America. So let me say, instead, that I am describing an incident of censorship. Or self-denial. I am addressing a dire act of closure that took place a few days ago in New York when the leadership of the Museum of Modern Art effectively closed its film stills collection.
What has that got to do with you, or us? New York must surely expect hard times (with the rest of us), and the Museum of Modern Art is torn between rebuilding, moving some departments and putting others on hold. All true. But the museum’s latest decision does not really fit within a pattern of temporary adjustments. MOMA had once reckoned that it would have to move the stills to rural Pennsylvania for a while. Now, it seems prepared to suppress its own collection (and its own history in gathering, restoring and guarding the precious stills).
For while we like to imagine all the ways in which we have surpassed 1895 (the most available year for locating the start of moving pictures), it is remarkable how important that archaic thing, the still, remains. Yes, in theory, this is an age in which a film clip (a brief spurt of movie itself) can represent and market the motion picture. But in practice, as much as in 1900, 1930 or 1970, the film still is our invitation to the movie. Stills are the backbone of the ads and posters we see. They remain the essential means of illustration that newspapers and magazines employ. And in books about the movies, the still has never lost its role at filling a page with beauty, allure or glamour, or lost its power to suggest the visual quality of this or that movie.
But here’s the intriguing unlikelihood in stills. Any young, smart person today is going to reach the obvious conclusion: that stills are nothing more or less than frames copied from the film strip itself. Don’t we know that moving film is actually 24 still frames per second? So where else would the stills come from?
Well, sometimes in specialty magazines and learned publications, you do see that very thing — what are called frame enlargements — instants of the movie itself, the same image as seen in the dark. Yet, oddly, those frames do not often make effective stills. So many frames are actually blurred, or grainy, or not too easy to read. In theory, in an age of digital films those problems ought to be manageable: the image could be “shopped” clean; it could be dialed up so easily and quickly.
But film stills have not begun to do that yet. In fact, historically, the stills that have always been the basis for marketing movies were taken by still photographers, on set or on location, watching the actual cinematography and doing their best to imitate the tone and framing of the movie camera’s composition. This may sound far-fetched as a process (and it still operates today). But note two things that spring from it: the way in which the stills were, initially, a kind of support for the film, a warm critical appreciation; and then consider the possible emergence of envy, or competition, an urge to make the stills more ravishing than the movie itself.
There was an age — in the ’30s and ’40s — when the taking of stills on movie sets was reckoned an art, and given to artists. Thus, there are photographers who did great work in the area who have honored places in the pantheon of photography: George Hurrell, John Engstead, Laszlo Willinger and many others. It’s even the case that sometimes the fascinating art studies done in the studio affected the style of later pictures, and helped indicate the best ways to “see” a great star. Look through any album book of Hollywood in its golden age and you can quickly sense that creative interplay between the stills and the movies.
It bespeaks an intense interest in the look and feel of movies, and sadly that passion is past. Nearly anyone involved in the film business is now bewildered and dismayed by the indifference, the shabbiness, the absence of magic in those stills that major studios are using to market their product. It isn’t just that geniuses are no longer employed. It’s more that the job has lost prestige, and so the poor still photographer gets far less opportunity than was once the case.
In a way, that is the gravest admission in MOMA’s decision to box up and store its fabulous collection of well over 4 million prints, preserved and cataloged, one of the treasuries of film scholarship and a resource used regularly by newspapers, television programs, magazines and books. No, it is not the only collection in existence, but it is truly one of the best.
As I said above, MOMA’s decision is part of some very complex problems faced by that institution. But I think there is a profound problem that underlies all the practicalities: Movies are fading because they are not as visually urgent, alive and sexy as they were. We are not turned on by looking as we once were. And so stills that once felt like eroticized paper to some of us — a sheen like shining skin — are beginning to be relics. That is the larger tragedy, and the graver issue. But surely somewhere on earth — or in Manhattan — there is a home for these astonishing imprints of a great American moment.
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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