Sex and horror are strange bedfellows. As types of entertainment that exist outside of the mainstream’s safe zone, they’re inexorably linked, but they also have an uncomfortable relationship with each other. One of the most referred-to stereotypes in horror movies, and particularly slasher movies, is that if a character has sex on-screen, or has ever had sex in their fictional life, they are going to die. Films like the Friday The 13th series, where it seemed like Jason Voorhees had a sixth sense for people fucking nearby (an idea that became literal with Jason X).
Now, while there’s a general understanding that, yeah, that’s the actions and motives of the villain, so it’s not implicitly meant to be a viewpoint that should be adhered to… well, when it gets to the point where that stereotype of ‘sluts die’ is something that gets brought up consistently not just with discussions of older films, but is brought back in a lot of modern meta-horror features as well, you have to start wondering if that repetition is to acknowledge how regressive that worldview is, or to reinforce it. See also: The black man being the first to die in a horror film.
It's with that background that this film, a slasher film with a hard R18+ rating, makes for remarkably refreshing viewing, as it feels like a serious correction of that mentality. Set in 1979, during the Golden Age of Porn, it follows a small independent film crew as they shack up in a Texas guesthouse, as they shoot a porno. And right from the start, the dialogue and the performances exude real understanding not just of the pornography industry at the time, but also the larger sexual politics involved.
Mia Goth and Brittany Snow as Maxine and Bobby-Lynne respectively, both starring in the film-within-a-film The Farmer’s Daughters, emphasise their own agency in taking part in these productions, rather than it being because men coerced them into doing so. Not only that, over the course of a conversation where they explain the innards of their work to boom mic operator Lorraine (Jenna Ortega furthering her claim as horror’s new It Girl), they also sharply define the difference between the fantastical gratification offered by pornography and other erotic media, and the actual romantic connection made by two people on our own side of the screen. And I specify ‘two people’ because, as Bobby-Lynne puts it, “Queer, straight, white, black; it’s all disco”.
The men in the main group have their own little interesting character touches too. Martin Henderson as Wayne, the executive producer and essentially the brains behind the production, focuses primarily on the business side of the deal, same with Kid Cudi as porn star Jackson Hole (and it’s weird to admit, but this might be his best on-screen work yet), whereas Owen Campbell as director/editor RJ focuses more on the artistic side of the whole thing.
Knowing that director/writer Ti West also does a lot of his own editing, this being no exception, it’s tempting to claim that he's serving as the author avatar here, except RJ most definitely has a lesser grasp on the material than the real man behind the camera. Where everyone else understands the assignment they’re working on, RJ’s talk about camera angles and editing techniques gives the impression that he’s trying to make this porno into something more than ‘just’ porno. He says “It’s possible to make a good dirty movie” as if he’s directly challenging the standards of the genre he’s working in when, in reality, pornography has the same standard for genuine film art as any other genre. RJ’s stance of trying to ‘elevate’ porn implies that it needs elevating to be art in the first place, whereas Ti West’s approach to porn aesthetic starts with the acknowledgement that porn, from the baseline, is art.
And as the film at large trades in sunkissed cinematography, creative editing flourishes, and a grungy Southern aesthetic that shows up the latest Texas Chainsaw Massacre film in pretty much every way, its brainier conceits slowly make themselves apparent. It’s still in service to the old guard of slasher films, but with that sexual lens in mind, the deadly sin at the core of this film isn’t lust or wrath. Rather, it’s envy. That same conservative perspective on sex, framed with numerous shots of TV screens showing a fire-and-brimstone preacher banging on about fornicators, is hammered away at to reveal an alternative to the purely judgemental viewpoint: What if Mrs. Voorhees didn’t kill those camp counsellors simply because they were too busy fucking to do their jobs and look after her son, but because they were getting more action than she was?
To that end, we have the film’s main villains: Howard (Stephen Ure) and Pearl (Mia Goth in a double role), the elderly couple who own the guesthouse the film crew are staying in. Pearl in particular gets the lion’s share of screen time and development, shown as a woman with a still-active sexual drive, but stuck in the midst of perpetual sexual frustration and even repression. Put simply, her man can’t get it up, and the society she lives in frowns on the idea of her getting any. Even here, the film’s emphasis on the agency of women when it comes to sex holds firm, as the focus is put specifically on her urges, with her husband only lamenting that he is unable to satisfy her, rather himself.
It's a perspective that can often get lost in translation when it comes to debates about sexual freedoms, as it’s all too easy to look at people who take such umbrage at what consenting adults do in the privacy of their own homes (or maybe elsewhere; I’m not judging), and question if they have ever had a functioning sex life. But that’s what sexual repression does. Hell, repression of just about anything leads to bad things, but for something as ingrained in our nature as procreation, it can be especially harmful. Push it down far enough, be left starved for long enough, and it can surface in dangerous fashions. Not in social promiscuity or interests in adult entertainment, but in seeing people embrace the freedoms that you yourself didn’t have at their age, and be so overcome with that envy that you decide if you can’t have it, nobody can.
Not that the film even comes across as that pointed in regards to Pearl; hell, I’d argue that she’s one of the most sympathetic slasher villains of all time because of how much effort is put into making the audience empathise with the tragedy of her circumstances and actions. And she makes a fitting centrepiece for a film that not only corrects a rather glaring issue with even the trendiest of meta-horror, but makes for a powerful statement on sexual liberation and just how vital it is for our collective existence. I gotta admit, this is a hell of a lot smarter than I was expecting from a filmmaker I primarily know for making Why?: The Movie, also known as Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever.
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