You Re The Worst Sex Scene
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You Re The Worst Sex Scene
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Porn star and director Joanna Angel knows good (and bad) on-screen sex when she sees it.
I'm a porn star and director . It’s my job to turn people on — and believe it or not, I take this job seriously. But even though I have access to any number of beautiful people, the fact is that even the highest-quality porn production doesn't have half the budget of a mainstream film set. Which is why it's so frustrating for me to turn on the TV and see a low-quality sex scene in a movie.
With this in mind, I've compiled some of the lamest, most cringe-worthy, shudder-inducing sex scenes of all time. These directors had absolutely no excuse for producing such trash. Come on, Hollywood — get it together.
I really tried to get into this Oscar-winning movie about the relationship between a beautiful mute woman named Elisa (Sally Hawkins) and a, uh, weird amphibian fish thing (Doug Jones). But I'm sorry — I am not aroused by this fish-man thing. Clearly, Elisa and the fish had some sort of intense mental connection, but I think this relationship should have remained platonic. Elisa, there are plenty of other fish in the sea (or in your perfectly sealed bathroom).
I might get bashed for this, but I'm not a fan of the spanking scene between aloof attorney James Spader and his meek secretary Maggie Gyllenhaal in this 2002 cult film. There’s a certain finesse that goes into the proper BDSM thwack, and Spader's form was stiff, like he was hammering a nail into a wall. I prefer the pornofied version of the slutty secretary, who wears too-tight shirts and non-functional glasses and keeps leaning over her boss's desk for no reason.
Right now, America is incredibly divided on many different issues. But, it’s nice to know that we can all be united in the opinion that Showgirls was a very bad movie. The lap dance scene with Elizabeth Berkley and Kyle MacLachlan is embarrassing, and the infamous pool sex scene is even worse: when she starts flopping around like she's possessed by some kind of swimming pool-borne demon, it’s impossible not to laugh. The only possible explanation for this atrocity is that Berkley had never had an orgasm before, so she had no idea how to reenact one. (I blame AC Slater .)
It pains me to say that a sex scene involving a young Madonna and candle-wax (two things I love) is just so uncomfortably bad — but alas, it is. Willem Dafoe makes some faces that are flat-out gross, and there’s nothing erotic about her actually licking the candle-wax off his body. Sorry, Madonna — you can justify my love, but I cannot justify this sex scene.
In this scene, Anastasia (Dakota Johnson) pours her midnight snack of Ben and Jerry’s vanilla ice cream all over Christian’s (Jamie Dornan) torso. Christian then puts ice cream on her legs and licks it up right before they have sex. It's supposed to symbolize them partaking in an evening of “vanilla” sex, but it's actually a hell of a lot weirder than any actual BDSM sex act I've ever witnessed. And who eats Ben and Jerry’s plain vanilla ice cream when there’s Cinamon Swirl and Chunky Monkey available in the same freezer?
No article about "worst on-screen sex scenes" is complete without paying homage to this iconic scene in The Room, in which Johnny (Tommy Wiseau) appears to copulate with his "future wife" Lisa's (Juliette Danielle) belly-button. Pro tip: turn on "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails and sync it up with this scene. It'll reach a whole new level of funny. You’re welcome.
What's worse than watching Mel Gibson have sex? I'll tell you: it's this scene from What Women Want, where he tries to have sex with Marisa Tomei, fails to get an erection, then returns from the bathroom to have mind-blowing sex with her after having a pow-wow with his penis. Gross.
Gigli had everything: Al Pacino, Christopher Walken, Ben Affleck, J-Lo, and the dude who played Napoleon from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. What could have possibly gone wrong? Everything, I suppose, as evidenced by this famously bad sex scene featuring Affleck as a sexist male mobster with a soft side and J-Lo as the female mobster who needs to make sure he gets the job done.
If you don't want to click, we'll just tell you this: after they have sex, J-Lo goes to eat some turkey. Had the movie shown her eating a giant turkey leg at Medieval Times, that would have been much sexier than anything in this movie.
I guess James Cameron had to invent a way for a new species to have sex in a way that parents would be able to easily explain to children. His solution: Zoe Saldana and Sam Worthington's ponytail tentacle thingies connect and they make out. Ooh la la?
Listen, there's a lot of halfway decent tentacle porn out there (look it up!), but this is not it.
For many teens, dry-humping is a rite of passage. But rarely have I seen two adults dry-humping doggy-style, as Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake do in this raunchy comedy. This scene is intended to be funny, and it looks utterly ridiculous, so job well done, I guess? Bad Teacher = bad sex scene.
Before this animated movie, no one had ever shown all foods, regardless of their shape, size, or expiration date, getting it on — and honestly, perhaps that was for the best. As someone who holds a camera 3 inches away from an anus on a semi-regular basis, I never thought I would say this about anything in a movie ever, but this sex scene is actually pretty inappropriate. It's not gluten-free, it's not paleo, it's not kosher, and it's certainly not sexy.
As someone who has shot my fair share of vampire sex, I prefer to see bloodsuckers boning in a fit of erotic carnal lust, with lots of fangs and tons of blood. But this milquetoast sex scene between Bella (Kristen Stewart) and Edward (Robert Pattinson) is just boring and lame. Why do you guys have to tear off perfectly good articles of clothing just to have extremely short and tidy sex? This is some emo vanilla nonsense.
Everything about this scene is hot — except for, well, the actual sex. It features two gorgeous people (Eva Green and Sullivan Stapleton) draped in leather clothing, having passionate hate sex before they go to war. On paper, this sounds awesome. But this scene just sucks. They're slamming each other up against a metal bolted wall, which looks physically painful, and they both keep making these horrible wincing faces. What a colossal disappointment. The porn world expects more from you, Hollywood.
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Aug. 31, 2016
Lindsay and Paul.
Photo: Byron Cohen/FX
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In this week’s episode of You’re The Worst , things got a little, um, stabbier than some viewers may have been expecting.
In a violent, cliffhanger-ish conclusion to the third season premiere, Lindsay — now officially back together with her husband, Paul, a yawn in human form — gets so freaked out by the prospect of the mundane married life ahead of her that she turns to her spouse and shoves a knife into his side. This is not an accidental knifing; she doesn’t trip while chopping the mushrooms for the salad that’s supposed to accompany the hominy and poblano-pepper pozole Paul ordered from Red Napkin, the You’re the Worst version of Blue Apron. No, she shanks him, hard, in a spot that presumably shares real estate with some important organs.
As I said in my review of the third season , even though the characters on the FXX show have engaged in some despicable behavior in the past, this particular choice feels like … well, the worst thing someone’s ever done on this show. Gretchen, Jimmy, and Lindsay, as well as Lindsay’s sister, Becca, and her dude-bro husband, Vernon, have definitely offended and hurt other people before. But unless I’m forgetting the very special murder episode, so far none of them have attempted to commit homicide, and certainly not to their romantic partner. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that at first. But after further consideration, it became clear to me that this scene is actually a perfect illustration of You’re the Worst living up to its script-flipping mission statement.
My initial response to the Shocking Paul Knifing of 2016 was that it pushed things too far, so much so that it wasn’t clear whether Lindsay actually did something this horrific or if we merely saw her play out a fantasy of stabbing Paul. (Spoiler alert: It was real.) The things that happen on this show are often dark and heightened for our twisted amusement. But even within that context, Lindsay’s action seemed extreme.
In her defense, there’s no question that Paul is the spousal equivalent of Baymax from Big Hero Six , in that he’s a cuddly, blob-like entity whose conversational abilities are deeply lacking. (Who cares how many rows are in an ear of corn, Paul??) But like Baymax, he’s also comforting, considerate, and extremely loyal. (Do you think Baymax likes listening to birding podcasts? I bet he does.)
Paul, played by Allan McLeod with a thermostat set permanently and appropriately on milquetoast, has forgiven Lindsay for every sin she’s committed against him. He has stayed with her and is committed to being a partner and parent with her. As terrifying as it is to Lindsay when he says, “I’m so happy I get to do this with you, forever wife,” it’s also very sweet and admirable, in addition to being, obviously, ridiculously naïve. My point is: He may be super-boring, but Paul definitely does not deserve a knife to the gut.
I mean, imagine if the gender roles had been reversed and the stabber had been a man and the victim had been a woman. Would we be able to accept this behavior, even as a moment of black comedy, to the degree that we can maybe kinda sorta accept it from Lindsay?
That was the thought that made me look more closely at that scene and change my mind about it.
What happens in this episode-closing moment is a total subversion of stereotypical gender roles. In the situation that plays out between Paul and Lindsay, and in keeping with the dynamic of their marriage, Paul engages in what society has trained us to think of as wife behavior: He cooks, he sips wine, and he tries to connect with his spouse by having a pleasant, gentle evening at home. Lindsay, on the other hand, feels the way a conventional man — again, based on stereotypical gender norms — might in this situation. She would clearly rather be at that club, helping Sam, Shitstain, and Honey Nutz do a blistering version of “New Phone Who Dis?” Instead, she’s stuck in that supposedly blissful kitchen, where the atmosphere of fancy fixed-meal preparation feels absolutely stifling. Just before this scene begins, Sam wonders onstage where that “white bitch” is; the answer, the show implies, is that a lot of white (and non-white) bitches are stuck in oppressively “normal” kitchens like the one Lindsay and Paul are occupying.
Wendey Stanzler, who directed this episode as well as a handful of season-two installments, does a brilliant job of visually capturing the details that push Lindsay over the edge (the close-ups of that gray-haired birding couple are like the grim reapers of dull marriage), while Kether Donohue’s eye twitches and facial ticks telegraph how much Paul is killing her, and not softly, with his song. After wanting so much to get Paul back — partly because he was out of her reach, and therefore more alluring, but also because some part of her still believes she’s supposed to play the role of happy, privileged wife — Lindsay realizes she doesn’t want this life at all. It’s not that she wants to stab Paul so much as she wants to shove a sharp implement into the whole notion of what she’s been trained to desire from marriage and adulthood. We don’t necessarily expect a woman to lash out so aggressively, and that refusal to do the usual is precisely what’s so You’re the Worst– ish about that moment.
The guiding principle of You’re the Worst is its insistence on contradicting the expectations regarding romance and human behavior that have been ingrained in us by pop culture. Movies and TV shows have previously taught us that women are never commitment-phobic, but here are Gretchen and Lindsay testifying that, hell yes, they certainly can be. Soldiers who suffer from PTSD are supposed to be addled and maybe a little scary, not gentle, gifted preparers of breakfast foods the way Edgar is. Romantic comedies are supposed to have happy endings and present likable characters with unsullied souls who, once in love, can’t stop themselves from pursuing it with the unfettered enthusiasm of that kid from Love Actually dashing through an airport. While You’re the Worst continues to uncover elements of warmth in its characters and, especially, in the relationship between Gretchen and Jimmy, it still continues to flip the bird at Hollywood romanticism while refusing to take down, by even a notch, the level of reprehensible behavior of which its principal figures are capable.
Obviously it’s shocking and wrong for anyone, man or woman, to do something so violent to a spouse. But by putting the knife in Lindsay’s hand and Paul’s abdomen, You’re the Worst invites us to consider the same truth it’s constantly conveying: th
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