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I admit it … I prefer it —‘it’ being ‘scenes of affection’—slow and sensuous, exquisite moments of torture, icy chills and simmering heat, the barest hint of a touch, a breath, then two, all senses engaged. I love the promise, delaying it with innuendo and control, until nothing else exists but one’s object d’lust and passion.
I admit it … I prefer it —‘it’ being ‘scenes of affection’—slow and sensuous, exquisite moments of torture, icy chills and simmering heat, the barest hint of a touch, a breath, then two, all senses engaged. I love the promise, delaying it with innuendo and control, until nothing else exists but one’s object d’lust and passion.
One of my favorite scenes in a movie comes from Pride and Prejudice (the Keira Knightley/Matthew Macfadyen version), where Darcy assists Elizabeth into the carriage. She turns to look at him, perplexed, as he spins away, the camera focused on his hand, clenching and unclenching, the touch so electrifying it surely sears him to his soul. That single touch, a bare wisp of an embrace, left such a lasting impression, I think of it first and foremost when this, my most beloved of the Jane Austin adaptations, becomes the bone of contention: which P&P is the definitive P&P?
Sense & Sensibility is another tale where those unexpressed feelings/suppressed desires are cast as sensible, and ultimately desirable, character traits. Note I use the term ‘suppressed’ as against ‘repressed’. ‘Suppressed’ never precludes one’s ability to experience strong emotion, it simply allows one to balance that with subtlety and restraint. ‘Repressed’ forces denial, burying one’s emotions so deeply in the subconscious that desire, or any other kind of pleasurable tendency, is thoroughly blocked. Elinor Dashwood’s restraint, when finally breached, created a veritable explosion of emotion—joy, anguish, disbelief and ultimately love.
For a more modern treatment, perhaps the glove scene in A Streetcar Named Desire where Terry reaches down and picks up Edie’s glove, fondling it with such grace and passion you forget what he is and focus on what he could be. He needn’t touch her, just the glove, and we feel his passion, we own it and revel in it.
To address my perverse nature, Dangerous Liaisons is intensely satisfying, a tale wherein every action, every thought is rife with unspoken seduction and out ‘n out sexual aggression and warfare. Every utterance masks a lie and a half-truth, a calculated threat or pledge. It’s a game where winning one’s heart’s desire weighs less than its denial to others. As a private performance or a public spectacle, love’s denouement has surprising consequences, not all of them pleasant, yet nonetheless compelling.
Two movies come to mind when one wants to address strictly prurient interests, the erotic nature of love, that understanding that to fully engage all the senses, to imbue authenticity into the rules of engagement between consenting partners (or non as the case may be), requires not just the sexual act itself but also emotional content and commitment that might be difficult to define (it is: there are few specific definitions for ‘sensual romance’ but a fair number of analyses examining what constitutes ‘erotic romance’—blog hop if you don’t believe me).
Anyway, the two movies that will forever define eroticism, for me, are Blue Velvet and sex, lies and videotapes. James Spader, sitting on the couch, looking straight at the camera and talking about … erotic inhibitions, things outside my ken (I saw this as an adult, but still, sheesh), things for which I had no frame of reference until just that moment in time. It was eye-opening, life-affirming, titillating and still sends shivers to dark and private spaces even after all these years. This film is the epitome of control as it examines the erotic impulses and inhibitions of a group of people, and one reviewer says it harkens back to the days when speech was an ‘erogenous zone’ (Roger Ebert).
Blue Velvet was viciously pornographic in the best film noir style (it’s David Lynch, so of course) and has been compared to Hitchcock’s Psycho because of the thematic elements of evil masquerading as psychosis. It is raw, emotional, and ultimately flawed by clichés and sophomoric treatment of its characters. But at its core, its treatment of sexual bondage is in your face, harsh and unrelenting. Unlike sex, lies and videotape, Blue Velvet eschews restraint, yet compared to more modern films with violence for its own sake, this film never represses the raw sensuality of its acts of aggression and violence.
Whew, well, deep breath. From ‘slow hand’ to sensual violence may seem like quite the leap, in truth it’s merely bridging differences in degree rather than differences in kind.
May I leave you with an image that speaks to me of elegant, sensuous and sensual restraint...
As always … your mileage may vary.
Anyway, the two movies that will forever define eroticism, for me, are Blue Velvet and sex, lies and videotapes. James Spader, sitting on the couch, looking straight at the camera and talking about … erotic inhibitions, things outside my ken (I saw this as an adult, but still, sheesh), things for which I had no frame of reference until just that moment in time. It was eye-opening, life-affirming, titillating and still sends shivers to dark and private spaces even after all these years. This film is the epitome of control as it examines the erotic impulses and inhibitions of a group of people, and one reviewer says it harkens back to the days when speech was an ‘erogenous zone’ (Roger Ebert).
Blue Velvet was viciously pornographic in the best film noir style (it’s David Lynch, so of course) and has been compared to Hitchcock’s Psycho because of the thematic elements of evil masquerading as psychosis. It is raw, emotional, and ultimately flawed by clichés and sophomoric treatment of its characters. But at its core, its treatment of sexual bondage is in your face, harsh and unrelenting. Unlike sex, lies and videotape, Blue Velvet eschews restraint, yet compared to more modern films with violence for its own sake, this film never represses the raw sensuality of its acts of aggression and violence.
Whew, well, deep breath. From ‘slow hand’ to sensual violence may seem like quite the leap, in truth it’s merely bridging differences in degree rather than differences in kind.
May I leave you with an image that speaks to me of elegant, sensuous and sensual restraint...
As always … your mileage may vary.
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Eight authors from around the globe, unite to bring you a cornucopia of delights. Stories to titillate, enthrall, enrapture. Explore, if you dare, dark, dangerous worlds where passion reigns supreme, where lust and love meet in a pas de deux of wanton desire and longing.
Sip from a frothy mix of delicious seduction. Eyes blind, your senses fly free, yearning, seeking, believing. Savor the re-imagining of ancient tales, brought to life with a modern twist and often bawdy humor. Tread carefully down a dangerous path of deadly seduction. Open your mind to new possibilities, indulge the senses.
Welcome to Dancing in the Dark – feel the subtle sway, the press of hot flesh to hot flesh, embrace the intricate weave of pleasure and pain, body and soul, heart and mind. Do you know the steps? Are you sure? When the music starts, who will lead, who will follow?
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