영어 번역좀 해주세요~ 급합니다~ 내공걸어요~
-
게시물 수정 , 삭제는 로그인 필요
꽤 장문인데 번역기는 사절이구요~ 3파트로 되어있는데~
시간이 좀 걸리셔도 나눠서 번역해주시면 감사하겠습니다~
“Hung Like a Horse: Male Stripping in Recent Films.”
Textual Reasoning (1998)
Graham Ward
The male body has been a cinematic fetish for many years. This is not to deny that women have featured as erotic objects throughout cinematic history. It is simply to observe that from the late fifties there has been an awareness of the female gaze such that the physiques (or at least naked torsos) of Burt Lancaster, Kirk Douglas, Charlton Heston and (since 1964 and A Fistful of Dollars) Clint Eastwood have constructed what one film studies scholar has termed “masculinity as a spectacle.”
In the early 70s Burt Reynolds was the first of many male film stars to pose nude for the centerfold of a women’s magazine (Cosmopolitan) and with the appearance of Gibson, Ford, Stallone and Schwarzenegger we have moved into another generation of male icon. The presentation of this female gaze can present problems in the form of erotic sub-currents. For quite frequently the kind of action films in which these iconized bodies feature are orientated towards a male audience; the Mad Max, Rambo, Die Hard and Terminator series, for example.
A homoerotic gaze plays about these screenings of the male body. Hollywood has become more frank about this gaze and its appeal. Several of its younger stars have submitted their bodies to such a construction: River Phoenix in My Own Private Idaho, Brad Pitt in Interview with a Vampire, Leonardo DiCaprio in Total Eclipse.
Each of these presentations of the male body in cinema reinforces the ideology of masculine potency. The bodies are shaped to elicit audience desire. Whether what is screened is the muscular, hirsute and toned physique of Bruce Willis (in Twelve Monkey) or the lean, pale and hairless body of Brad Pitt (in Thelma and Louise), both, in their different ways, are representations of phallic power-though the more toned and muscular, the more the body consciously and visibly presents itself as one great hard-on.
What is interesting and significant, therefore, is a series of recent films where the male body is stripped and exposed to the erotic gaze in a way that expresses not its potency but its vulnerability. Rather than figuring male erection, these representations critique phallocentrism and, in their frank shots of the male penis, show that for the majority of the time, that penis is detumescent.
Three films, in particular, point the way towards a different scripting of the male body: The pillow Book (Peter Greenaway), Boogie Nights (Paul Thomas Anderson), and The Full Monty (Peter Canttaneo). In the first of these films, Jerome (Ewan McGregor), an English translator living in Japan, allows his body to be written upon so that a woman poet might enable her work to be read by an important, exploitative homosexual publisher.
The camera lovingly films, in close-up, the calligraphic movement of the pen upon the male body. Jerome then delivers himself into the hands of the publisher and strips before him in such a way that we are conscious of how both Jerome’s body and the homoerotic desire and gaze are scripted. The flesh becomes text-quite literally, for Jerome’s body in finally skinned and made into a book.
The plot of Boogie Nights follows the rise, fall and resurrection of Eddie Adam alias Dirk Diggler’s (Mark Wahlberg) enormous cock in the pornography industry. In the final scene, Dirk stands before a mirror, just prior to the shooting of his comeback film (all sexual innuendoes are intended by the film), unzips his pants and pulls out for his gaze and the audience’s, the instrument which has been concealed (and yet fore-grounded in dialogue) throughout the film.
In a long take, while Dirk pumps up his ego before the mirror, the camera dwells on the length and impotence of this ridiculous member. Dirk’s dick is no more than a kitsch accessory in a film which plays a la Tarantino with the dramatic as he banal.
The Full Monty narrates the story of a group of steel workers rendered socially, politically and physically impotent by unemployment. Inspired by Gaz (Robert Carlyle), who observes the impact that the Chippendale male strippers have on the local women and his own lack of cash, the group get together and train to take the stage at the local pub for one night.
The significant different between the Chippendale version and their own act is that the Chippendales all present the tanned and toned-up bodies of the masculine sex-icon, and (to keep sexual illusion constantly in play) they keep their jockstraps on; this group of emaciated, pale, un-muscular (but for one), overweight and aged male bodies are determined to go all the way, revealing the inner sanctum of masculinity, the cock behind the jockstrap-for one night only.
In each of these films there is a staging of the self-conscious spectacle of the male body. The exposure of the genitals receives an audience within the film itself, and this audience is significant for the naming of the ostensive gaze and desire. Jerome is caught between the gaze of the female poet and the male homoerotic gaze of the publisher; his body functions as a screen for the projection of their parallel desires. Dirk gazes at himself, but it is a gaze without desire. His narcissism is fragile; it is required so that he can give himself an erection, because without an erection he will not be able to perform for the cameras which await him. But the dick remains limp as he folds it away and bursts out of his dressing room door determined to conquer.
The audience in the pub who have come to see Gaz and his friends perform, is mixed, but it is the female desire and gaze which is fore-grounded. There is an exuberance displayed by the men, an ecstasy of final unveiling, concomitant with the ecstasy on the faces of the women, as the strippers approach, hands on the police hats covering their genitals, ready for the climax. Both performers and audiences, men and women, share a sense of triumph, release, even giftedness, when the hats are tossed aside. But the cinema audience is withheld from that final participation. The camera views the men from behind and then freezes the frame before the credits roll.
In each film, though much more so in Boogie Nights and The Full Monty, the audience is interloper, voyeur; we are never (or only momentarily in The Pillow Book) directly invited to be excited by what we see. The male bodies are not fetishized; they are presented as vulnerable organic forms caught up in a play of social, political, economic and sexual scripting which plot for them the possible modes of action.
How do we read these scripting of the male body? Certainly they announce a new consciousness by men (each film is directed by a man) of their vulnerability; of the way their bodies have been written upon (by the film industry, by pornography, by commercial advertising). These bodies are no longer in charge, no longer in charge, no longer wielders of phallocentric power.
In Boogie Nights and The Full Monty being bung like a horse is viewed, on one level, as a certain advantage. But the advantage is economic; if money cannot be earned by the sweat of the worker’s brow then the male worker has to find other assets. When a young, good-looking and Greek-figured man auditions for Gaz, he displays the size of his dick as his only qualification for joining thetroupe. Gaz immediately remarks that the man has become their “walking lunch-box.”
In The Pillow Book and boogie Nights there appears no way of escaping this scripting; both men are sacrificed for the sake of productions that far exceed their importance. Jerome’s body being turned into a book in a way parallels Dirk’s cashing the bank cheque that his body has become in order to live well, materially. Both bodies, in these films, men-now on the other side of phallocentrism-are reduced to flesh bought, sold and exchanged.
In The Full Monty, on the other hand, both the men and the women join together in resisting the sex-icon scripting for the male body. There is a celebration of the male body in a manner which does not exalt itself at the expense of the female body. As the credits roll, Hot Chocolate sing “I believe in miracles.”There is a resurrection of the male body; a salvation. From the despair and failure with which the film opens, there emerges an affirmation. The affirmation has required self-exertion, but it does not depend upon self-assertion (and the subsequent denigration of others).
Read eschatologically, that is, read in terms of the movement of the body of Christ in and through cultural history towards full redemption: these films announce new images of male possibility beyond the hung-like-a-horse power-play of the phallus. Expressed is a desire for a new openness and honesty, an examination (at last) of the gendering of men: with The Full Monty, the promise of a new affirmation of male embodiment in a multigendered society; with The Pillow Book, the castrating fears that new vulnerability brings; and with Boogie Nights the cynical comment that now men’s bodies too, as women’s bodies previously, are both used an users.
“Rare Jordan." from Essence (1996)
Nelson George
A few seasons ago, in the now-defunct Chicago Stadium, Michael Jordan was being guarded by the eager but over-matched John Starks. I sat fifteenrows behind them, wearing my Knicks cap amid a sea of Bulls red and black. I’d flown in the day before and scalped tickets, determined to see Starks and the rest of my beloved New York team finally dethrone the Bulls.
What a joke.
Sometime during the second half, Jordan rises, the No.23 on his chest suspended in air as Starks elevates. The Knick, who earlier in the series jammed in Jordan’s face, has hopes, but no one is Jordan. Starks begins his journey back to earth, but Jordan continues to hang, defying gravity. He releases the ball and, like a bird of prey, the potential three-pointer soars toward the hoop. The shot is good. The crowd explodes. Icringe and of course the Knicks lose. Of the fifty-four points Jordan scores that night, it is this single shot that lingers in my mind.
This is my Jordan moment. You probably have your own. Built one by one, they have lifted him to the enviable, extraordinary and undoubtedly taxing position of African-American hero-with equal emphasis placed on the African and the American. His achievement comes in an era when unqualified Black male heroism is rare and thus particularly precious. While White-chosen heroes (Christopher Darden, Clarence Thomas), flawed icons (Tupac Shakur, Mike Tyson) and polarizing forces (Marion Barry, Louis Farrakhan) proliferate, Jordan has universal respect from women and men, Blacks and Whites and children of all ages.
That’s not to say the ride has always been smooth. There have been failures, eccentric choices and profound tragedies in his otherwise charmed life. These trials, along with the triumphs, have shaped him into something of a living, breathing Rorschach test. When this country looks at Jordan, it sees its dreams, obsessions-even its fears.
After all, there are many Michael Jordans. There is Jordan the star. Jordan the athlete. Jordan the family man. Jordan the sex symbol. Jordan the commodity. Jordan the role model. And Jordan the personification of Black masculinity. By that Imean that Michael embodies some of the deepest fantasies Black men have of themselves. Like those of Jack Johnson, Joe Louis, "Sugar" Ray Robinson, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays, Muhammad Ali, Julius Erving and a handful of others, Michael Jordan’s movements, boldness and skill allow African-American men to see the best of themselves projected in the symbolic war of sports.
In every culture the warrior plays the role of elemental icon of a community’s spirit. In America our history of enslavement sometimes makes us nervous about how much emotion we should invest in these athletes. Are they not just well-paid studs? Do they not entertain at the whim of wealthy White men? No doubt both observations have some merit.
But to negate the individual will of these men, to ignore the power and glory of their prowess, is to deny ourselves access to the purity and strength they display. There is a thrill, a kinetic quality of life that a Louis, a Mays, a Jordan taps into that we need. Now African-Americans need other things too. (An emphasis on literacy would be a great start.) Yet Michael’s brand of Black masculinity-explosive, graceful, yet grounded in work and morality-is quite simply beautiful and essential.
Jordan, of course, consistently transcends his role as mere player. Through a series of megabuck endorsement deals, he hovers above the game as a commercial staple, a Black face with the mass appeal to sell goods (and himself), rivaled only by prime time’s favorite sepia pitchman, Bill Cosby. Plying the media with his cool southern charm, while playing the game spectacularly, Jordan defies the stereotypes of the street-hardened, inner-city athlete. He grew up in the Sunbelt state of North Carolina in a solid nuclear family.
Religious, well-spoken and with none of the wariness of Whites that hampers many African-American men, Michael Jordan represents the flip side of the crack dealers who populate the local news broadcasts of big cities. With the exception of Julius Erving, no previous African-American basketball hero has had the same balance of tremendous talent, public poise and personal charisma. But it’s the late tennis great Arthur Ashe whom, because of his southern background, charm and crossover appeal, Jordan calls to mind. While Ashe was the real-life Sidney Poitier amid the country-club set, Jordan, with his clean-cut, starched shirt on Sunday morning, epitomizes Black masculinity without the rough edges of so many Generation X players.
More than any other contemporary African-American athlete, he thrives in the pressure cooker of corporate commitments-appearances at charitable events, golf tournaments and commercial shoots-while never making any embarrassing "I’m not Black, I’m universal" comments and without selling his soul. He works in the system while retaining his Black identity, and he has arrived without a nose job or a White wife.
Just as he succeeded Erving on the court, Jordan followed the elegant Dr. J as the preeminent Black athletic sex symbol. And Jordan’s smooth, chocolate handsomeness has made it easier for brothers to get dates when the Bulls come to town. His wagging tongue, baggy (now standard issue) shorts and 800-watt smile reflect a stylish, idiosyncratic and confident man. By coolly acceptinghis baldness, he made his glistening Black dome the defining African-American hairstyle of the era, chasing out the seemingly entrenched high-top fade. At the same time Jordan’s public-speaking style grew increasingly polished, a welcome alternative to the you-know-what-I’m-sayin’ syndrome that too many other brothers display.
When Iask women what they like about Jordan, the answer is often, "He married the mother of his children,"which they felt spoke to his morality and class. Unlike many other Black sports superstars of this era, Michael never let himself be perceived as a dog. He married Juanita Vanoy in September 1989, within a year of the birth of their first child, Jeffrey Michael. Two more children, Marcus and Jasmine, followed. Though Jordan wisely guards his home life with his wife and children, it’s clear that his professional accomplishments are made possible by the solid foundation he and Juanita have created at home.
The credit for Jordan’s character goes back to the steadying influence of his parents. During his childhood, they set the kind of hardworking example so many Black men lack. His late father, James, a smallish, relaxed southern man, worked his way up from forklift operator to a supervisor at Wilmington’s General Electric plant. His mother, Deloris, who recently authored a book on child rearing and was the stern disciplinarian, workedas a clerical supervisor at United Carolina Bank. On occasions when Michael had misbehaved, she wasn’t averse to taking him along to sit beside her and do his homework.
But Jordan’s loving childhood and his astute decision making haven’t immunized him against the violence that rocks our community. Which brings me to my next Jordan moment, one that is sure to linger in my mind long after he retires. In fact, for anyone who saw it, it helped redefine the man. The moment came right after the Bulls knocked out the Seattle Supersonics in game six last June, when Jordan snatched the game ball and fell to the floor, clutching it as teammates and fans began celebrating around him.
Then, seeking privacy, he sprinted to the locker room, where despite all the frivolity, he sought a moment of solitude. Of course he didn’t get it. Cameras, a constant in his life, dogged his steps, and with them came the eyes of the whole world. We watched as he lay on the floor, crying for the man who could not be there. It was Father’s Day, and the basketball great grieved anew for his father, who had been murdered three years before.
Unlike so many contemporarypublic figures, Michael never used his tragedy to gain sympathy for himself. No cheap sentimentality. No playing the victim. No sobbing on Oprah. He has handled the entire matter with a dignity as heroic as any jump shot. And yet, in a moment of profound public triumph, he gave in to private pain. The journey Jordan has taken in recent years-retirement, baseball career, the difficult comeback-arguably had as its catalyst his father’s death. So it was only fitting that James Jordan’s presence loom large in that championship locker room.
Over time, the lesson of Michael’s career may be to illustrate how even the great can be humbled. Steeled by fire, he returned to basketball with heightened appreciation for the game and his atmospheric forays to the hoop are far less frequent. Instead he attacks with a pump fake, turning a defender’s legs into jelly and then burying a jump shot. No more a sprinter, he, like a canny distance runner, paces himself until the crucial third and fourth quarters.
Ultimately, history will not judge Jordan’s greatness by his vicious slam dunks or clever ad campaigns. Rather it will judge him as a father and a son, and as a man, a Black man-one of the best we’ve ever had.
Violent Movies: Why We Watch (Student Essay)
Lauren Mooney
The hows and whys of watching violent movies vary greatly from person to person. In his article, "When Screen Violence is Not Attractive."Clark McCauley compares the two genres of documentary and horror films and develops theories ranging from examining societal fears to the curiosity / fascination theory to explain the fascination with watching violence. Specifically, McCauley’s theories regarding the different types of violence and their attractive qualities provide reasons for why someone might watch The Matrix and The Cube, representatives from the genres of action / sci-fi and suspense / horror.
The Matrix focuses on a character named Neo and his quest to become "the chosen one"who will lead enslaved humans to freedom. Morpheus, the resistance leader, seeks out Neo and trains him to fight the creators of the matrix, known as the agents. According to Morpheus, the matrix is a "computer generated dream world…the wool that has been pulled over your eyes to hide you from the truth." The truth that he speaks of is that the "real world" is only a small colony of pure humans that have survived the purges by the agents. The rest of the humans species is cultivated like an unconscious crop to generate energy. One violent and gruesome scene involves the "birth"of Neo into the real world. Attached to a womb-like pod, the plugs and wires that secure him in hisunconscious state link to a main plug in the back of his skull. When a robotic creature unplugs him, the other wires snap off of his body, spraying embryonic fluid everywhere and making a real mess. Among the other disgusting scenes is an early shot of Neo being "bugged" by the Matrix’s agents: A very large mechanical device is placed on his stomach, where it begins to drive into his body through his belly button while Neo writhes and screams. The scene in which the bug is pulled out by fellow "pure human"trinity is nearly as gruesome, but it has to happen before he can become the chosen one. After Neo accepts his role, he undergoes various training exercises in both the matrix and the real world. Many fight scenes between the group and the agents, who will stop at nothing, are naturally rich with shootouts, stabbing, and other acts of violence.
The Cube has fewer acts of violence, but is equally gruesome. The movie is basically about a group of seven people who wake up in a cube maze with over 17,000 rooms that periodically rotate. The cube has thousands of extremely violent traps designed to kill whoever enters the room. For example, the opening scene shows a man who has entered a room with a trap. The trap involves a razor sharp mesh that swings down over whoever enters theroom, slicing their body into hundreds of tiny pieces. Afterwards, the pieces fall to the floor with a loud plopping noise. Other unsuccessful attempts to avoid the traps have resulted in acid burning one man’s face or dozens of swords to slice and dice. The movie focuses on the attempts of the characters to escape the cube, alive and breathing. Throughout the movie, each character (a doctor, a cop, a math nerd, an escape artist, an architect, and a mentally retarded boy) offers theories about how they got there and what purpose the cube holds.
The key element in how we watch the movie The Matrix is the undeniable fiction of the story. Before even stepping into the movie theater or pressing "play" on the VCR, we are prepared to enter a world of fiction and fantasy. We expect the unexpected and do not question the reality of the film. We are much more accepting when we watch The Matrix because it is so unbelievable. According to Apter’s theory of "psychological reversals,"danger can be attractive when experienced in a protected environment known as "the frame of dramatic fiction"(161). A violent movie can elicit feelings of excitement because the viewer is only a spectator, safe from the violence (McCauley 160). Cues for unreality create the protective frame of fiction that allows the viewer to enjoy the violence (McCauley 161.) The Matrix is a perfect example of this theory. Not only do the characters engage in extraordinary situations, but virtual reality is also used extensively. During Neo’s training sessions and throughout the rest of the movie, he can bend all of the rules of reality. For example, he can climb walls, move faster than humanly possible, jump extremely long distances, and withstand an unbelievable amount of pain. The world is also not real; it is only the matrix. Other cues for unreality include the excessive use of special effects. These intriguing special effects were often the very reason people went to the movie, but since the violence is accomplished by means of the special effects, we are watching more gruesome violence than we might see in real life. It’s just covered by the computer generated imagery.
Each film offers a different kind of violence. In The Cube, there are two main sources of violence: one stemming from the traps within the cube and the other created by the characters in the movie. In the violence created by the traps, a machine, without an identifiable source or reason, produces the violence. Even though the violence is sickening, we are not disgusted as easily because no known motive or source is present. The characters have a hard time grasping this idea and search for someone or something to blame. This blameless violence has no known human source and is therefore thought of only in terms of a machine. Machines cannot think or have morals, the qualities needed for placing blame or considering the action inhumane.
On the other hand, the human violence causes the viewer more discomfort. The character Quinton is a very violent man and ends up killing most of the other characters by the end of the movie. He stabs both Leaven and Worth and drops Holloway down the side of the cube, plunging to her death. This type of violence stems from anger and revenge, or what McCauley describes as impulsive violence.
Whereas The Cube has two main types of violence, most of the violence within The Matrix is impulsive violence produced by the characters. Neo seeks revenge on the agents to overthrow their power and save the humans. The violence present in this movie represents the ultimate battle between good vs. evil. Neo’s motivation is to kill the agents, instead of helping them. Despite this overwhelming display of impulsive violence, instrumental violence also plays a major role. According to McCauley, instrumental violence has a goal other than inflicting harm on another (145). For example, Neo’s debugging is extremely violent, but the scenes are not used to inflict harm on Neo; they simply display the type of violence, Morpheus tells Neo only his body makes him believe that pain is real. Because pain is not attached to the violent acts, the viewer is less likely to be disturbed by the violence.
The Matrix holds true to McCauley’s curiosity / fascination theory. According to this theory, horror movies violate norms in the society to attract attention. Carroll argues, "horror attracts because anomalies command attention and elicit curiosity" (McCauley 149). This is also true for a variety of genres. The Matrix violates many norms that are rarely violated. The world in which we live is turned upside down and inside out, explained away by a computer program. The "real" is only "electrical signals interpreted by your brain" and nothing more. The theme of the movie is also quite captivating by its ability to cause the viewers to question everything around them. The technology presented in the movie is beyond any existing technology, which captures the viewer’s attention by imagining a futuristic world in which knowledge can be transmitted in a matter of seconds and life can be used as a source of energy. In one scene involving the escape from the agents, Trinity must know how to fly a helicopter, but she lacks the knowledge. To solve this problem, she simply calls up Cypher and has him insert the training program for flying a helicopter. In seconds she has the ability to escape from the agents using the helicopter.
Another reason for watching The Matrix is the level of action and stimulation. This is especially attractive to those individuals who are high sensation seekers. According to McCauley’s article, a movie that provides intense stimulation will attract many viewers who are sensation seekers. The rescue mission at the end of the movie is nothing but action. Trinity and Neo go on a shooting spree, killing close to a hundred men while showing off their gravity defying moves. Even more fascinating is Neo’s ability to stop bullets in mid air or lazily fighting the superhuman agents who spell out suicide for the other members of the group.
Zillmann’s mood management theory in McCauleys’article applies to The Matrix more than The Cube. According to the mood management theory, people choose the movie they want to watch based upon the mood they are in or the mood they wish to get out of (151). This is especially true for high sensation seekers, who wish to cure their state of boredom. Most viewers were well aware of the action level of The Matrix and chose the movie for this very reason. On the other hand, The Cube lacks action and most of the movie is spent solving the mystery of the cube. The plot focuses on the theories presented by the characters for the reason behind the cube and how to escape from it. This also supports McCauley’s curiosity / fascination theory.
One of the major reasons for watching either of the films involves how societal fears and the human conditionare played upon within the film. Stephen King claims that horror films "often serve as an extraordinary barometer of those things which trouble the night thoughts of whole society" (McCauley 146). The best example of the two movies is The Cube. This movie plays upon the question of staying humane in extreme circumstances. Each character is pushed to their limits and tested to see if they are able to keep their cool. Quintonobviously fails this test and murders several of the other character in order to survive the situation. This is especially disturbing because Quinton is a cop, a commanding role associated with orderliness and justice. The Matrix also plays upon the societal fears involving deception and the manipulation of life. The deceptive nature of the matrix is very upsetting because iscauses us to wonder how accurate our perceptions of our surroundings really are. We like to imagine ourselves as independent individuals, whereas the matrix undermines the intelligence of the human race, defining us as a mass of easily deceived people.
Moving away from theory, I have to say that I watched The Matrix with more interest than I did with The Cube. The violence in The Cube seemed gratuitous: it was there, but the degree of it seemed too much considering the plot. Killing people is all well and good, but the degree of blood and gore seemed like more than was necessary. But in contrast, The Matrix’s violence seemed very real and very unreal at the same time, because of the sophisticated special effects employed by the director. Because the film was set in the frame of fiction, we knew the violence wasn’t real-even though we also knew, at the same time, that the whole film wasn’t real. Because the film played with our perceptions of reality, we were never sure if what we were watching was real or not, so we didn’t know how to respond. McCauley’s article doesn’t really address the theories as they might apply to a movie that renders reality suspect; it might be interesting to see what he’d say about is.
꽤 장문인데 번역기는 사절이구요~ 3파트로 되어있는데~
시간이 좀 걸리셔도 나눠서 번역해주시면 감사하겠습니다~
“Hung Like a Horse: Male Stripping in Recent Films.”
Textual Reasoning (1998)
Graham Ward
The male body has been a cinematic fetish for many years. This is not to deny that women have featured as erotic objects throughout cinematic history. It is simply to observe that from the late fifties there has been an awareness of the female gaze such that the physiques (or at least naked torsos) of Burt Lancaster, Kirk Douglas, Charlton Heston and (since 1964 and A Fistful of Dollars) Clint Eastwood have constructed what one film studies scholar has termed “masculinity as a spectacle.”
In the early 70s Burt Reynolds was the first of many male film stars to pose nude for the centerfold of a women’s magazine (Cosmopolitan) and with the appearance of Gibson, Ford, Stallone and Schwarzenegger we have moved into another generation of male icon. The presentation of this female gaze can present problems in the form of erotic sub-currents. For quite frequently the kind of action films in which these iconized bodies feature are orientated towards a male audience; the Mad Max, Rambo, Die Hard and Terminator series, for example.
A homoerotic gaze plays about these screenings of the male body. Hollywood has become more frank about this gaze and its appeal. Several of its younger stars have submitted their bodies to such a construction: River Phoenix in My Own Private Idaho, Brad Pitt in Interview with a Vampire, Leonardo DiCaprio in Total Eclipse.
Each of these presentations of the male body in cinema reinforces the ideology of masculine potency. The bodies are shaped to elicit audience desire. Whether what is screened is the muscular, hirsute and toned physique of Bruce Willis (in Twelve Monkey) or the lean, pale and hairless body of Brad Pitt (in Thelma and Louise), both, in their different ways, are representations of phallic power-though the more toned and muscular, the more the body consciously and visibly presents itself as one great hard-on.
What is interesting and significant, therefore, is a series of recent films where the male body is stripped and exposed to the erotic gaze in a way that expresses not its potency but its vulnerability. Rather than figuring male erection, these representations critique phallocentrism and, in their frank shots of the male penis, show that for the majority of the time, that penis is detumescent.
Three films, in particular, point the way towards a different scripting of the male body: The pillow Book (Peter Greenaway), Boogie Nights (Paul Thomas Anderson), and The Full Monty (Peter Canttaneo). In the first of these films, Jerome (Ewan McGregor), an English translator living in Japan, allows his body to be written upon so that a woman poet might enable her work to be read by an important, exploitative homosexual publisher.
The camera lovingly films, in close-up, the calligraphic movement of the pen upon the male body. Jerome then delivers himself into the hands of the publisher and strips before him in such a way that we are conscious of how both Jerome’s body and the homoerotic desire and gaze are scripted. The flesh becomes text-quite literally, for Jerome’s body in finally skinned and made into a book.
The plot of Boogie Nights follows the rise, fall and resurrection of Eddie Adam alias Dirk Diggler’s (Mark Wahlberg) enormous cock in the pornography industry. In the final scene, Dirk stands before a mirror, just prior to the shooting of his comeback film (all sexual innuendoes are intended by the film), unzips his pants and pulls out for his gaze and the audience’s, the instrument which has been concealed (and yet fore-grounded in dialogue) throughout the film.
In a long take, while Dirk pumps up his ego before the mirror, the camera dwells on the length and impotence of this ridiculous member. Dirk’s dick is no more than a kitsch accessory in a film which plays a la Tarantino with the dramatic as he banal.
The Full Monty narrates the story of a group of steel workers rendered socially, politically and physically impotent by unemployment. Inspired by Gaz (Robert Carlyle), who observes the impact that the Chippendale male strippers have on the local women and his own lack of cash, the group get together and train to take the stage at the local pub for one night.
The significant different between the Chippendale version and their own act is that the Chippendales all present the tanned and toned-up bodies of the masculine sex-icon, and (to keep sexual illusion constantly in play) they keep their jockstraps on; this group of emaciated, pale, un-muscular (but for one), overweight and aged male bodies are determined to go all the way, revealing the inner sanctum of masculinity, the cock behind the jockstrap-for one night only.
In each of these films there is a staging of the self-conscious spectacle of the male body. The exposure of the genitals receives an audience within the film itself, and this audience is significant for the naming of the ostensive gaze and desire. Jerome is caught between the gaze of the female poet and the male homoerotic gaze of the publisher; his body functions as a screen for the projection of their parallel desires. Dirk gazes at himself, but it is a gaze without desire. His narcissism is fragile; it is required so that he can give himself an erection, because without an erection he will not be able to perform for the cameras which await him. But the dick remains limp as he folds it away and bursts out of his dressing room door determined to conquer.
The audience in the pub who have come to see Gaz and his friends perform, is mixed, but it is the female desire and gaze which is fore-grounded. There is an exuberance displayed by the men, an ecstasy of final unveiling, concomitant with the ecstasy on the faces of the women, as the strippers approach, hands on the police hats covering their genitals, ready for the climax. Both performers and audiences, men and women, share a sense of triumph, release, even giftedness, when the hats are tossed aside. But the cinema audience is withheld from that final participation. The camera views the men from behind and then freezes the frame before the credits roll.
In each film, though much more so in Boogie Nights and The Full Monty, the audience is interloper, voyeur; we are never (or only momentarily in The Pillow Book) directly invited to be excited by what we see. The male bodies are not fetishized; they are presented as vulnerable organic forms caught up in a play of social, political, economic and sexual scripting which plot for them the possible modes of action.
How do we read these scripting of the male body? Certainly they announce a new consciousness by men (each film is directed by a man) of their vulnerability; of the way their bodies have been written upon (by the film industry, by pornography, by commercial advertising). These bodies are no longer in charge, no longer in charge, no longer wielders of phallocentric power.
In Boogie Nights and The Full Monty being bung like a horse is viewed, on one level, as a certain advantage. But the advantage is economic; if money cannot be earned by the sweat of the worker’s brow then the male worker has to find other assets. When a young, good-looking and Greek-figured man auditions for Gaz, he displays the size of his dick as his only qualification for joining thetroupe. Gaz immediately remarks that the man has become their “walking lunch-box.”
In The Pillow Book and boogie Nights there appears no way of escaping this scripting; both men are sacrificed for the sake of productions that far exceed their importance. Jerome’s body being turned into a book in a way parallels Dirk’s cashing the bank cheque that his body has become in order to live well, materially. Both bodies, in these films, men-now on the other side of phallocentrism-are reduced to flesh bought, sold and exchanged.
In The Full Monty, on the other hand, both the men and the women join together in resisting the sex-icon scripting for the male body. There is a celebration of the male body in a manner which does not exalt itself at the expense of the female body. As the credits roll, Hot Chocolate sing “I believe in miracles.”There is a resurrection of the male body; a salvation. From the despair and failure with which the film opens, there emerges an affirmation. The affirmation has required self-exertion, but it does not depend upon self-assertion (and the subsequent denigration of others).
Read eschatologically, that is, read in terms of the movement of the body of Christ in and through cultural history towards full redemption: these films announce new images of male possibility beyond the hung-like-a-horse power-play of the phallus. Expressed is a desire for a new openness and honesty, an examination (at last) of the gendering of men: with The Full Monty, the promise of a new affirmation of male embodiment in a multigendered society; with The Pillow Book, the castrating fears that new vulnerability brings; and with Boogie Nights the cynical comment that now men’s bodies too, as women’s bodies previously, are both used an users.
“Rare Jordan." from Essence (1996)
Nelson George
A few seasons ago, in the now-defunct Chicago Stadium, Michael Jordan was being guarded by the eager but over-matched John Starks. I sat fifteenrows behind them, wearing my Knicks cap amid a sea of Bulls red and black. I’d flown in the day before and scalped tickets, determined to see Starks and the rest of my beloved New York team finally dethrone the Bulls.
What a joke.
Sometime during the second half, Jordan rises, the No.23 on his chest suspended in air as Starks elevates. The Knick, who earlier in the series jammed in Jordan’s face, has hopes, but no one is Jordan. Starks begins his journey back to earth, but Jordan continues to hang, defying gravity. He releases the ball and, like a bird of prey, the potential three-pointer soars toward the hoop. The shot is good. The crowd explodes. Icringe and of course the Knicks lose. Of the fifty-four points Jordan scores that night, it is this single shot that lingers in my mind.
This is my Jordan moment. You probably have your own. Built one by one, they have lifted him to the enviable, extraordinary and undoubtedly taxing position of African-American hero-with equal emphasis placed on the African and the American. His achievement comes in an era when unqualified Black male heroism is rare and thus particularly precious. While White-chosen heroes (Christopher Darden, Clarence Thomas), flawed icons (Tupac Shakur, Mike Tyson) and polarizing forces (Marion Barry, Louis Farrakhan) proliferate, Jordan has universal respect from women and men, Blacks and Whites and children of all ages.
That’s not to say the ride has always been smooth. There have been failures, eccentric choices and profound tragedies in his otherwise charmed life. These trials, along with the triumphs, have shaped him into something of a living, breathing Rorschach test. When this country looks at Jordan, it sees its dreams, obsessions-even its fears.
After all, there are many Michael Jordans. There is Jordan the star. Jordan the athlete. Jordan the family man. Jordan the sex symbol. Jordan the commodity. Jordan the role model. And Jordan the personification of Black masculinity. By that Imean that Michael embodies some of the deepest fantasies Black men have of themselves. Like those of Jack Johnson, Joe Louis, "Sugar" Ray Robinson, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays, Muhammad Ali, Julius Erving and a handful of others, Michael Jordan’s movements, boldness and skill allow African-American men to see the best of themselves projected in the symbolic war of sports.
In every culture the warrior plays the role of elemental icon of a community’s spirit. In America our history of enslavement sometimes makes us nervous about how much emotion we should invest in these athletes. Are they not just well-paid studs? Do they not entertain at the whim of wealthy White men? No doubt both observations have some merit.
But to negate the individual will of these men, to ignore the power and glory of their prowess, is to deny ourselves access to the purity and strength they display. There is a thrill, a kinetic quality of life that a Louis, a Mays, a Jordan taps into that we need. Now African-Americans need other things too. (An emphasis on literacy would be a great start.) Yet Michael’s brand of Black masculinity-explosive, graceful, yet grounded in work and morality-is quite simply beautiful and essential.
Jordan, of course, consistently transcends his role as mere player. Through a series of megabuck endorsement deals, he hovers above the game as a commercial staple, a Black face with the mass appeal to sell goods (and himself), rivaled only by prime time’s favorite sepia pitchman, Bill Cosby. Plying the media with his cool southern charm, while playing the game spectacularly, Jordan defies the stereotypes of the street-hardened, inner-city athlete. He grew up in the Sunbelt state of North Carolina in a solid nuclear family.
Religious, well-spoken and with none of the wariness of Whites that hampers many African-American men, Michael Jordan represents the flip side of the crack dealers who populate the local news broadcasts of big cities. With the exception of Julius Erving, no previous African-American basketball hero has had the same balance of tremendous talent, public poise and personal charisma. But it’s the late tennis great Arthur Ashe whom, because of his southern background, charm and crossover appeal, Jordan calls to mind. While Ashe was the real-life Sidney Poitier amid the country-club set, Jordan, with his clean-cut, starched shirt on Sunday morning, epitomizes Black masculinity without the rough edges of so many Generation X players.
More than any other contemporary African-American athlete, he thrives in the pressure cooker of corporate commitments-appearances at charitable events, golf tournaments and commercial shoots-while never making any embarrassing "I’m not Black, I’m universal" comments and without selling his soul. He works in the system while retaining his Black identity, and he has arrived without a nose job or a White wife.
Just as he succeeded Erving on the court, Jordan followed the elegant Dr. J as the preeminent Black athletic sex symbol. And Jordan’s smooth, chocolate handsomeness has made it easier for brothers to get dates when the Bulls come to town. His wagging tongue, baggy (now standard issue) shorts and 800-watt smile reflect a stylish, idiosyncratic and confident man. By coolly acceptinghis baldness, he made his glistening Black dome the defining African-American hairstyle of the era, chasing out the seemingly entrenched high-top fade. At the same time Jordan’s public-speaking style grew increasingly polished, a welcome alternative to the you-know-what-I’m-sayin’ syndrome that too many other brothers display.
When Iask women what they like about Jordan, the answer is often, "He married the mother of his children,"which they felt spoke to his morality and class. Unlike many other Black sports superstars of this era, Michael never let himself be perceived as a dog. He married Juanita Vanoy in September 1989, within a year of the birth of their first child, Jeffrey Michael. Two more children, Marcus and Jasmine, followed. Though Jordan wisely guards his home life with his wife and children, it’s clear that his professional accomplishments are made possible by the solid foundation he and Juanita have created at home.
The credit for Jordan’s character goes back to the steadying influence of his parents. During his childhood, they set the kind of hardworking example so many Black men lack. His late father, James, a smallish, relaxed southern man, worked his way up from forklift operator to a supervisor at Wilmington’s General Electric plant. His mother, Deloris, who recently authored a book on child rearing and was the stern disciplinarian, workedas a clerical supervisor at United Carolina Bank. On occasions when Michael had misbehaved, she wasn’t averse to taking him along to sit beside her and do his homework.
But Jordan’s loving childhood and his astute decision making haven’t immunized him against the violence that rocks our community. Which brings me to my next Jordan moment, one that is sure to linger in my mind long after he retires. In fact, for anyone who saw it, it helped redefine the man. The moment came right after the Bulls knocked out the Seattle Supersonics in game six last June, when Jordan snatched the game ball and fell to the floor, clutching it as teammates and fans began celebrating around him.
Then, seeking privacy, he sprinted to the locker room, where despite all the frivolity, he sought a moment of solitude. Of course he didn’t get it. Cameras, a constant in his life, dogged his steps, and with them came the eyes of the whole world. We watched as he lay on the floor, crying for the man who could not be there. It was Father’s Day, and the basketball great grieved anew for his father, who had been murdered three years before.
Unlike so many contemporarypublic figures, Michael never used his tragedy to gain sympathy for himself. No cheap sentimentality. No playing the victim. No sobbing on Oprah. He has handled the entire matter with a dignity as heroic as any jump shot. And yet, in a moment of profound public triumph, he gave in to private pain. The journey Jordan has taken in recent years-retirement, baseball career, the difficult comeback-arguably had as its catalyst his father’s death. So it was only fitting that James Jordan’s presence loom large in that championship locker room.
Over time, the lesson of Michael’s career may be to illustrate how even the great can be humbled. Steeled by fire, he returned to basketball with heightened appreciation for the game and his atmospheric forays to the hoop are far less frequent. Instead he attacks with a pump fake, turning a defender’s legs into jelly and then burying a jump shot. No more a sprinter, he, like a canny distance runner, paces himself until the crucial third and fourth quarters.
Ultimately, history will not judge Jordan’s greatness by his vicious slam dunks or clever ad campaigns. Rather it will judge him as a father and a son, and as a man, a Black man-one of the best we’ve ever had.
Violent Movies: Why We Watch (Student Essay)
Lauren Mooney
The hows and whys of watching violent movies vary greatly from person to person. In his article, "When Screen Violence is Not Attractive."Clark McCauley compares the two genres of documentary and horror films and develops theories ranging from examining societal fears to the curiosity / fascination theory to explain the fascination with watching violence. Specifically, McCauley’s theories regarding the different types of violence and their attractive qualities provide reasons for why someone might watch The Matrix and The Cube, representatives from the genres of action / sci-fi and suspense / horror.
The Matrix focuses on a character named Neo and his quest to become "the chosen one"who will lead enslaved humans to freedom. Morpheus, the resistance leader, seeks out Neo and trains him to fight the creators of the matrix, known as the agents. According to Morpheus, the matrix is a "computer generated dream world…the wool that has been pulled over your eyes to hide you from the truth." The truth that he speaks of is that the "real world" is only a small colony of pure humans that have survived the purges by the agents. The rest of the humans species is cultivated like an unconscious crop to generate energy. One violent and gruesome scene involves the "birth"of Neo into the real world. Attached to a womb-like pod, the plugs and wires that secure him in hisunconscious state link to a main plug in the back of his skull. When a robotic creature unplugs him, the other wires snap off of his body, spraying embryonic fluid everywhere and making a real mess. Among the other disgusting scenes is an early shot of Neo being "bugged" by the Matrix’s agents: A very large mechanical device is placed on his stomach, where it begins to drive into his body through his belly button while Neo writhes and screams. The scene in which the bug is pulled out by fellow "pure human"trinity is nearly as gruesome, but it has to happen before he can become the chosen one. After Neo accepts his role, he undergoes various training exercises in both the matrix and the real world. Many fight scenes between the group and the agents, who will stop at nothing, are naturally rich with shootouts, stabbing, and other acts of violence.
The Cube has fewer acts of violence, but is equally gruesome. The movie is basically about a group of seven people who wake up in a cube maze with over 17,000 rooms that periodically rotate. The cube has thousands of extremely violent traps designed to kill whoever enters the room. For example, the opening scene shows a man who has entered a room with a trap. The trap involves a razor sharp mesh that swings down over whoever enters theroom, slicing their body into hundreds of tiny pieces. Afterwards, the pieces fall to the floor with a loud plopping noise. Other unsuccessful attempts to avoid the traps have resulted in acid burning one man’s face or dozens of swords to slice and dice. The movie focuses on the attempts of the characters to escape the cube, alive and breathing. Throughout the movie, each character (a doctor, a cop, a math nerd, an escape artist, an architect, and a mentally retarded boy) offers theories about how they got there and what purpose the cube holds.
The key element in how we watch the movie The Matrix is the undeniable fiction of the story. Before even stepping into the movie theater or pressing "play" on the VCR, we are prepared to enter a world of fiction and fantasy. We expect the unexpected and do not question the reality of the film. We are much more accepting when we watch The Matrix because it is so unbelievable. According to Apter’s theory of "psychological reversals,"danger can be attractive when experienced in a protected environment known as "the frame of dramatic fiction"(161). A violent movie can elicit feelings of excitement because the viewer is only a spectator, safe from the violence (McCauley 160). Cues for unreality create the protective frame of fiction that allows the viewer to enjoy the violence (McCauley 161.) The Matrix is a perfect example of this theory. Not only do the characters engage in extraordinary situations, but virtual reality is also used extensively. During Neo’s training sessions and throughout the rest of the movie, he can bend all of the rules of reality. For example, he can climb walls, move faster than humanly possible, jump extremely long distances, and withstand an unbelievable amount of pain. The world is also not real; it is only the matrix. Other cues for unreality include the excessive use of special effects. These intriguing special effects were often the very reason people went to the movie, but since the violence is accomplished by means of the special effects, we are watching more gruesome violence than we might see in real life. It’s just covered by the computer generated imagery.
Each film offers a different kind of violence. In The Cube, there are two main sources of violence: one stemming from the traps within the cube and the other created by the characters in the movie. In the violence created by the traps, a machine, without an identifiable source or reason, produces the violence. Even though the violence is sickening, we are not disgusted as easily because no known motive or source is present. The characters have a hard time grasping this idea and search for someone or something to blame. This blameless violence has no known human source and is therefore thought of only in terms of a machine. Machines cannot think or have morals, the qualities needed for placing blame or considering the action inhumane.
On the other hand, the human violence causes the viewer more discomfort. The character Quinton is a very violent man and ends up killing most of the other characters by the end of the movie. He stabs both Leaven and Worth and drops Holloway down the side of the cube, plunging to her death. This type of violence stems from anger and revenge, or what McCauley describes as impulsive violence.
Whereas The Cube has two main types of violence, most of the violence within The Matrix is impulsive violence produced by the characters. Neo seeks revenge on the agents to overthrow their power and save the humans. The violence present in this movie represents the ultimate battle between good vs. evil. Neo’s motivation is to kill the agents, instead of helping them. Despite this overwhelming display of impulsive violence, instrumental violence also plays a major role. According to McCauley, instrumental violence has a goal other than inflicting harm on another (145). For example, Neo’s debugging is extremely violent, but the scenes are not used to inflict harm on Neo; they simply display the type of violence, Morpheus tells Neo only his body makes him believe that pain is real. Because pain is not attached to the violent acts, the viewer is less likely to be disturbed by the violence.
The Matrix holds true to McCauley’s curiosity / fascination theory. According to this theory, horror movies violate norms in the society to attract attention. Carroll argues, "horror attracts because anomalies command attention and elicit curiosity" (McCauley 149). This is also true for a variety of genres. The Matrix violates many norms that are rarely violated. The world in which we live is turned upside down and inside out, explained away by a computer program. The "real" is only "electrical signals interpreted by your brain" and nothing more. The theme of the movie is also quite captivating by its ability to cause the viewers to question everything around them. The technology presented in the movie is beyond any existing technology, which captures the viewer’s attention by imagining a futuristic world in which knowledge can be transmitted in a matter of seconds and life can be used as a source of energy. In one scene involving the escape from the agents, Trinity must know how to fly a helicopter, but she lacks the knowledge. To solve this problem, she simply calls up Cypher and has him insert the training program for flying a helicopter. In seconds she has the ability to escape from the agents using the helicopter.
Another reason for watching The Matrix is the level of action and stimulation. This is especially attractive to those individuals who are high sensation seekers. According to McCauley’s article, a movie that provides intense stimulation will attract many viewers who are sensation seekers. The rescue mission at the end of the movie is nothing but action. Trinity and Neo go on a shooting spree, killing close to a hundred men while showing off their gravity defying moves. Even more fascinating is Neo’s ability to stop bullets in mid air or lazily fighting the superhuman agents who spell out suicide for the other members of the group.
Zillmann’s mood management theory in McCauleys’article applies to The Matrix more than The Cube. According to the mood management theory, people choose the movie they want to watch based upon the mood they are in or the mood they wish to get out of (151). This is especially true for high sensation seekers, who wish to cure their state of boredom. Most viewers were well aware of the action level of The Matrix and chose the movie for this very reason. On the other hand, The Cube lacks action and most of the movie is spent solving the mystery of the cube. The plot focuses on the theories presented by the characters for the reason behind the cube and how to escape from it. This also supports McCauley’s curiosity / fascination theory.
One of the major reasons for watching either of the films involves how societal fears and the human conditionare played upon within the film. Stephen King claims that horror films "often serve as an extraordinary barometer of those things which trouble the night thoughts of whole society" (McCauley 146). The best example of the two movies is The Cube. This movie plays upon the question of staying humane in extreme circumstances. Each character is pushed to their limits and tested to see if they are able to keep their cool. Quintonobviously fails this test and murders several of the other character in order to survive the situation. This is especially disturbing because Quinton is a cop, a commanding role associated with orderliness and justice. The Matrix also plays upon the societal fears involving deception and the manipulation of life. The deceptive nature of the matrix is very upsetting because iscauses us to wonder how accurate our perceptions of our surroundings really are. We like to imagine ourselves as independent individuals, whereas the matrix undermines the intelligence of the human race, defining us as a mass of easily deceived people.
Moving away from theory, I have to say that I watched The Matrix with more interest than I did with The Cube. The violence in The Cube seemed gratuitous: it was there, but the degree of it seemed too much considering the plot. Killing people is all well and good, but the degree of blood and gore seemed like more than was necessary. But in contrast, The Matrix’s violence seemed very real and very unreal at the same time, because of the sophisticated special effects employed by the director. Because the film was set in the frame of fiction, we knew the violence wasn’t real-even though we also knew, at the same time, that the whole film wasn’t real. Because the film played with our perceptions of reality, we were never sure if what we were watching was real or not, so we didn’t know how to respond. McCauley’s article doesn’t really address the theories as they might apply to a movie that renders reality suspect; it might be interesting to see what he’d say about is.
