Against my better judgement, the lights in my apartment are connected to a wireless network controlled via an app. There are physical buttons, but they are located near the plugs, at ground level and often behind obstructions. When I leave, turning off the light requires digging my phone out of my pocket, typing in the unlock code, opening the app, waiting for it to detect the network, then tapping a button to turn off the light. I do all of this while standing an inch or so away from the old wall switch, the use of which would achieve the same result in a fraction of the time. As a result of this modernity, every time I leave the apartment, I feel the uncontrollable urge to make sure I’m listening to the title theme from French director Jacques Tati’s 1958 masterpiece Mon Oncle. I am, at that moment, Monsieur Hulot. Continue reading…
Posted March 9, 2006
One of my earliest masturbatory fantasies (I have a feeling it may be a common one for many young boys) was the idea of taking part in a sex education class that involved a physical demonstration. Of course meaning: my grade 6 teacher Miss Dawson taking part in various types of sexual activity while perched up on her desk in front of the class.
Yes, it’s unseemly, and I’m absolutely sure my poor teacher would have been horrified that any of her students had ever imagined such a scenario, but oh well — hormonal boys are total little perverts. Or course, this type of primal animalistic activity in the classroom would no doubt lead to a full on sex orgy by the rest of the students, and we’d probably get really kinky homework too.
So with my pubescent fantasies in the back of my mind, I was quite curious to find out if the classic 1972 porn film SCHOOL FOR SEX (which was actually one of the very first hardcore features, and not to be confused with Pete Walker’s 1969 film of the same name) stirred up any of those ol’ demons, and to see exactly how much it differed from my school-boy wet dreams.
Let me tell ya, the ways in which it is differed are many indeed, the main 3 being:
1. This is a school for hairy, stinky-looking, wanna-be porn actor losers that sit around naked and bored looking on a set that only slightly resembles a classroom. And what is with those revolting cutaway closeups that resemble prison mugshots?
2. Unlike Miss Dawson, the teacher “Miss Prude,” stumbles over her meagre dialogue shamelessly, and looks off camera every 20 seconds. She seems totally uninterested in being a teacher, and utterly unable to portray one.
3. Unlike my fantasy which has to do with lessons for the naive about what sex is and how to do it, these are odd lessons on how to apply lip gloss, eye shadow, makeup, how to sit, stand and walk, and how to remove your “underthings.” Borrrrrring.
Expectations dashed, I settled in for the sex scenes, hoping to at least give this film a fair shake by sizing up its merits and cataloguing them for this review. The showcase sex scene takes place between two fairly unattractive women who oil each other up and then engage in some astonishingly unconvincing lesbian sex. The Something Weird catalogue mentioned that this was the “most laughably inept lesbian sex scene” the reviewer had ever witnessed, and that’s not up for much debate when one sees that both girls refuse to actually even touch one another’s hairy sexual organs.
FINALLY, something resembling intercourse is kinda taught, but the couple going at it are the example of what you might think of if you daydreamed the ultimate uninspired porn performers. The homely guy (who looks like a CANNED HEAT reject) can’t even come close to a boner, and pathetically squishes his flaccid dong against his practically yawning partner over and over. She takes him into her mouth and gives him a boring, uneventful blowjob, and doesn’t really seem surprised at all that he can’t get any wood for that either.
This entire display brings only one thing to mind, and that is a passage from an article in ye olde ANSWER ME zine #3, entitled “You Turn me off”. It goes a little something like this:
“There is a couple making out in front of me. Their ugly skin commingles. Now, if they were fighting, that would be fun to watch. But THIS! Their shaggy foul-smelling bodies are worthless. Like chronic nose-pickers, their brazen public display is sickening. Get the fuck out of here!”
Finally our “hero” miraculously gets a small slice of wood and instantly dumps a watery load on her greasy stomach much to the delighted cheers (relief?) of the rest of the class. Now for the coup de grace as the school’s principal shows up, and in an utterly excruciating 10 minute sequence has sex with every shaggy hippy girl in the room, but does it all off screen behind a closed door while the camera alternates between the remaining bored students in the classroom.
I’ve seen a fair amount of classic porn, and much of it is enjoyable on some campy, goofy level, but SCHOOL FOR SEX is boring, poorly filmed, performed, and un-erotic on just about any level you could imagine.