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8. Love is the Devil: Study for the Portrait of Francis Bacon (John Maybury, 1998)
Derek Jacobi dramatizes Francis Bacon’s life in an intense performance that reveals his volatile relationship with his lover George Dyer and creates a complex psychological portrait of the artist.
The film leaves viewers with the idea that the artist was a masochist in his sexual life (Bacon:“Submitting entirely to the service and pleasure of the dominant partner. This I find a catharsis, in that all responsibility is relinquished, every move is dictated. No decisions are your own, who exists solely for the service and pleasure of another man”) and somewhat of a snippy sadist with friends, and especially Dyer.
Bacon is considered one of the best modern artists of the twentieth century. Becoming popular in the 1940s, unlike many of his contemporaries he still felt the human figure in art was a subject that had not been exhausted. His figures often seem to be in the throes of suffering and despair and must be understood in the context of the horrors of modern warfare and the Holocaust. The film successfully articulates and approximates the emotional and psychological undercurrents found in Bacon’s paintings.
From an aesthetic and artistic point of view, the film is “painterly.” Although Bacon’s estate refused director John Mayberry access to his paintings, the film mimics them by using the camera to distort images, giving the look of the film a similar quality to the figures he painted. This is achieved through the use of wide-angle lenses, elongated faces and bodies, double exposures, and elements of horror and ecstasy. Overall, this interpretation of Bacon is a fascinating glimpse into the artist’s life.
9. The Night Porter (Liliana Cavani, 1974)
Controversial for its linkage of Nazism with sadomasochism, Liliana Cavani’s divisive story focuses on a Nazi officer (Dirk Bogarde) and a concentration camp survivor (Charlotte Rampling) who meet by chance in Vienna in 1957. In the film, fascism becomes eroticized through its depiction of absolute power, symbolized by Nazi regalia and paraphernalia. In this instance,
it isn’t so much the depictions of sadomasochism itself that is problematic and disconcerting to some viewers and critics, but the very notion of Nazism as a platform for staging any form of erotic desire between captive and captor, especially one between a German and a Jew. Additionally, the film raises ethical questions concerning film spectatorship, representations of the Holocaust, witnessing atrocity and testimony, and the blurring of consensual sexual boundaries.
10. Salò, or 120 Days of Sodom (Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1975)
The Republic of Salò was an extension of Nazi Germany in Italy during World War II, led by fascist dictator Benito Mussolini. Pasolini sets the film within that historical context. Subtitling his film with a reference to the Marquis De Sade’s book that catalogues a range of sexual acts, many of which are still considered to be aberrations, Pasolini creates a political allegory exploring the abuse of real power.
Unlike many other films on this list that emphasize masochism, Pasolini’s last film is notorious and shocking for its extreme sadism. Its depiction of cruelty, sexual violence and torture not only made it controversial but also caused it to be banned in many countries.
It would be a mistake to think that the director intended the viewer to derive any kind of pleasure from prevalence of nude bodies and sexual acts being performed; if pornography is defined by an attempt to elicit arousal from viewers then Salò is a disappointment, seeking rather to stimulate intellectually and emotionally. He does this through his use of intertextual references to philosophy, literature and literary criticism, long shots in order to critique systemic violence by making the viewer aware of her voyeurism.
The film is a testament to the depths of cruelty that human beings are capable of and an indictment of the ease at which people can watch the suffering of others without taking action to prevent it.
11. Romance (Catherine Breillat, 1999)
Catherine Breillat is only one of two female directors on this list and one of the few female filmmakers to examine women’s sexuality in relation to desire. Her films are often the subject of controversy and censorship; this is unfortunate because controversy only serves to obfuscate and distract from the real and important themes Breillat addresses.
The title of the film is somewhat ironic because the protagonist, Marie, is unhappy with her boyfriend and their relationship. She sets out to explore her own desires by way of anonymous sexual encounters, some of which include bondage and masochism. Above all, the film is about the importance of fantasy and the different meanings it has for men and women.
12. Venus in Fur (Roman Polanski, 2013)
This film, adapted from a two-act play written by David Ives, which is itself an adaption of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s 1870 novella of the same title.
What begins as an audition for the main protagonist, Vanda, turns into an exploration of gender and sexual politics. Masoch, from whom the term “masochism” is derived, writes about how the male protagonist, Severin, wants to be submissive to another woman. This idea was new at the time because men have historically been identified with the sadistic impulse to inflict pain and women the masochist impulse to submit to men.
The character of Severin introduces a different kind of man whose imagination fueled by female dominance. The film engages viewers unfamiliar with Masoch with an intellectual discussion as to whether the play is sexist and if men want to “play” at being submissive or are still the ones who wield power over women. In an interesting bit of casting, Emmanuelle Seigner is Polanski’s wife and Mathieu Amalric, who resembles a younger version of the director, plays Thomas.
13. Antichrist (Lars von Trier, 2009)
The film opens with a gorgeous black and white sequence of a husband and wife having sex, intercut with scenes of their small child trying to escape from his crib. After he falls out of a window, the parents are forced to deal with their loss and guilt. Antichrist explores the couple’s loss and trauma, divided into four chapters—Grief, Pain, Despair and The Three Beggars.
Willem Dafoe plays the grieving husband and Charlotte Gainsbourg his wife, known only as He and She, retreat to a cabin (called Eden) in the woods to deal with the emotional aftermath. Nature, rather than being therapeutic for them, is simultaneously beautiful, haunting and brutish (She: “Nature is Satan’s church”). While He attempts to use his psychological methods to help She cope with her mental anguish and guilt, He remains emotionally unmoved and seemingly removed from his own grief.
As nature turns on them, they in turn, begin to take out their anger and self-loathing on each other. Some critics accused the filmmaker of making a misogynistic film, and there is some justification for that; however, it doesn’t detract from the emotional and provocative power of the movie as a whole.
14. Maîtresse (Barbet Schroeder, 1975)
Maîtresse (translated as “mistress”) is one of the earliest feature films to give audiences a glimpse into the private world of real life s/m practitioners and fetishists, and it does this without judgment.
Gerard Depardieu plays a thief who accidentally stumbles into this unknown, erotic world, and, like viewers, is allowed voyeuristically to observe it in all its theatricality. In this regard, it raises essential questions into the many manifestations of human desire, behavior, and sexuality that are often considered taboo and for this reason, fascinating.
David Cronenberg has been making films for decades that examine the intersection between extreme forms of violence and the human body, a subgenre referred to as body horror. In this movie, adapted from J.G. Ballard’s 1973 novel, the impact of flesh and metal that result from car crashes becomes a way of feeling alive and connecting to others through the impact of technological violence.
Crash takes fetishism to a new level by eroticizing the fusion of metal and flesh and the scars and bodily openings created from these encounters. Like many films on this list, it is more of a cerebral foray into new types of erotic fantasies that hint at larger questions about human sexuality and identity via technology and its incorporation and extension of the self.
Author Bio: Daxton Norton is a professor of composition, film and literature and holds a Ph.D. in Comparative Literature from The University of Oregon, with an emphasis in film studies. He enjoys teaching students how to watch and think critically about movies.
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Published July 12, 2011 1:01AM (EDT)
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I got up around seven on my wife's birthday and made her breakfast, as usual. I do all of the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, buy groceries and run all errands, even for those embarrassing feminine hygiene products. My wife never asked me to shoulder all household chores; I insisted. The arrangement suited both of us perfectly. I always wanted someone to take care of, just as she always wanted someone to take care of her.
While we eat breakfast, it's tradition that we watch "Law & Order: SVU" on Netflix. "Do you want to watch cop-who-rapes-his-wife or little-girl-in-a-coma?" I asked.
My wife chose "cop-who-rapes-his-wife," while I, the sentimental one, opted for "little-girl-in-a-coma." We broke this impasse the same way we make other minor decisions: With a wrestling match.
I know many couples enjoy a bedroom tussle, but when my wife and I grapple, we're out for blood. We bite, scratch, punch and twist each other's limbs into painful pretzels. I am proud to say I am married to a woman who can kick my ass. This is how we are in the bedroom, too, where it's a constant shifting of dominance, rough and wild, neither of us on top for long.
My wife won, finishing me off with a move that would be illegal even in a street fight. I let her get her licks in while she could. Later that day, we were headed to the dungeon. There, I would show her no mercy.
My wife works as a submissive at an S&M dungeon. Men fork over hundreds of dollars to chain her up and whip her. Sometimes, when my wife and I walk down the street together, I wonder what passersby think of me when they glimpse the handiwork of her clients on her shoulders and thighs. I can't meet these people's eyes, even though my wife proudly displays her contusions. She thinks they're sexy, admiring her mottled behind in the bathroom mirror. I know there's nothing to be ashamed of, but my face goes red with guilt, anyway. Long before my wife got her job, we were doing weird, kinky stuff in the boudoir, too.
I imagine how the "SVU" detectives would respond. I imagine being in the interrogation room with Christopher Meloni, telling him my wife was asking for it, that she enjoyed every blow. "Yeah, yeah," he'd snarl. "Typical wife-beater line." In another room, Mariska Hargitay would be counseling my wife, telling her it wasn't her fault.
This whole chapter in our lives still surprises me, since I’ve never been an S&M enthusiast. But my wife is what's known as a lifestyle submissive -- in the movie "Secretary," she'd be the Maggie Gyllenhaal character -- and the day came when she finally asked me to assume the position of dominator. She asked me to cuff her to the headboard and slap her across the face -- "Hard. Harder!" While I’m no conformist, I certainly wasn’t eager to start whaling on my wife, even if she badly wanted me to. Still, if I have one weakness, I am pathologically incapable of saying no to her.
I sucked it up and slapped her across the right cheek. Her head flopped limply to the side and her cheek burned bright from the blow.
So I slapped her a second time, praying silently that the neighbors couldn't hear us.
Part of me felt detached, watching in silent judgment as I hit my wife, that inexcusable sin. Another part — God help me — was enjoying it. My wife had asked me to open the door, just a crack, to my darkest self -- and it turned us both on.
When my wife was hired at the dungeon, I was overjoyed. Not only did we desperately need the money, I hoped that working there would help my wife deal with some of the issues she has with sex. She enjoys sex and is very good at it. Still, she's always felt inhibited. She thinks this is because a babysitter molested her when she was very young, forcing her to take off her clothes and lie in bed with him.
I am also the victim of sexual abuse. I was bullied during a sexually confused time and the kids at school did things to me that I don't feel comfortable putting into words. As kids, pain -- both physical and emotional -- and sexual pleasure became all knotted up together for my wife and me, to the point that there's no hope of untangling them. Our abusers took control from us, and sadomasochism is a way for us to wrest control back. If pleasure cannot come without pain, at least we're the ones inflicting it. When our nerves say, "no more," we have the power to stop, a choice we didn't have when we were young. I know it sounds strange, but it works for us.
That afternoon, we headed to the dungeon. On my wife's lap she carried a pair of Tupperware containers with peanut butter cupcakes, which a friend had baked. She wanted to share the rest with the subs and doms she worked with.
When we walked in, I grew quiet. I studied my shoelaces while my wife introduced me to her leather-clad co-workers. In social situations, I rarely open up to other people. I'm a hermit, preferring my books and thoughts to human company, while my wife loves to socialize. She's the one exception; I feel totally comfortable with her. So I don't mind playing the submissive when she drags me out of the house, letting her do most of the talking. It can be comforting giving someone else all of the control.
I handed over $200 to the mistress behind the front desk and my wife and I headed over through the garden to the Bastille room, my wife in a leather coat like Trinity in "The Matrix," so passersby on the sidewalk wouldn't ogle her. As we got closer, I felt both anxious and giddy, like I was committing a crime I knew I would get away with.
I smiled at my wife. "You look hot."
As always, she looked surprised but pleased. "I do?"
My wife is a medium submissive. Her clients can use the leather whips and paddles. Nothing made of wood, though. When it was time to pick my instrument, I chose a small cat-of-nine-tails, and my wife shut the door. A clock started counting down our hour of playtime.
That's when I started to panic. How, exactly, should I go about torturing the woman I love?
"Are you sure this is legal?" I said.
I knew it was. Professional sadomasochism technically falls outside the legal definition of sex, so it's not prostitution. Still, I felt nervous and paranoid.
I pointed at the intercom. "Can that mistress lady hear us?"
I tried the door. "Does this thing lock?"
My wife took me by the hand, and we sat down on a bench. "Nobody's going to walk in on us. It's just you and me. Relax."
But I couldn't relax. I knew good men didn't do things like this to their wives. What my wife wanted me to do was immoral, and yet it made her so happy. I was scared of going too far. I was scared of liking it too much.
My wife pulled me to my feet. "C'mon," she said, shooting me that tomboy smile of hers I'm completely helpless against.
She assumed the position, a willing victim to her own torture. I realized how much she trusted me in that moment. She knew I was a good man. That's why she had no problem with me letting out my dark side every once in a while. She knew I was strong enough to lock it away when our hour was up.
"Okeydokey," I said. "And here we go."
I cracked my wife on the ass. Then I chained her up and paddled her some more. I threw her over something that looked like a pommel horse and let her have it.
When it was over, we lay on the floor, holding hands.
"This was the best birthday present ever," she said. I wanted to kiss her -- but it was against the rules.
Afterward, I felt a little guilty. I couldn't help but feel bad about hitting my wife, no matter the context. But I was also tremendously pleased. It was remarkable just how much intimacy can be found being so vulnerable with each other. And it felt good being bad, at least for a little while.
That night my wife and I slipped into bed together, her butt flecked with marks, my stomach sore from when she punched me during our wrestling match. We lay together, healing from our pain -- friends, foes, equals.
Joshua LeSuer is working on a memoir about overcoming OCD.
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