Over the last year there has been a ton of buzz about Under the Skin, a new film directed by Jonathan Glazer. Since its premiere at the Telluride Film Festival in August, a steady and excited rumble has deafened certain parts of the internet as excited filmgoers eagerly awaited its release. (The film opened in the United Kingdom on Friday; its U.S. release is scheduled for April 4.) So what’s the film about? The simple answer is that it doesn’t seem to matter in the least, as the vast majority of the aforementioned buzz has had nothing to do with the film or its science fiction plot, or for that matter the 2000 novel from which it is derived. Nor has it anything to do with the director or his previous works, which include the Ray Winstone film Sexy Beast and the Nicole Kidman film Birth. No, the buzz I’ve heard over the last several months almost exclusively concerns star Scarlett Johansson and her quartet of nude scenes.
There was a time when news of a major Hollywood actress baring all for the camera might inspire me to go see the film in question. Of course, there was a time (before I was an overextended stay-at-home parent) when I might go see the film regardless. I understand that Scarlett Johansson is a hot commodity, and I acknowledge that millions of filmgoers worldwide find her physically desirable. She may even be a really good actress; I’ll admit to enjoying her performance the few times I’ve actually seen her in something.
Unfortunately, the days of me breaking a sweat over even a relatively revealing or explicit nude scene in a commercially-released film are long since over. There was a time when the promise of seeing a brief flash of a well-known actress’ nipple on HBO might motivate me to stay up until well past two in the morning, even on a school night. I’m not sure why this is; I’m guessing it’s a combination of interest and respect for the actress(es) in question, and more importantly, a lack of other suitable jerkoff material. After all, this was a more innocent time, when the internet was less ubiquitous, and obtaining legitimate pornography generally involved leaving the house, spending money, and worst of all, being rung up by an actual human being who you’d have to look in the eye as they judged you.
I remember waiting patiently for the release of Bliss, starring Twin Peaks‘ Sheryl Lee. And Dream Lover, starring Twin Peaks‘ Mädchen Amick. And discovering on video Two Moon Junction, starring Twin Peaks‘ Sherilyn Fenn. I watched Dana Delaney rise from a swimming pool completely naked in Exit to Eden, enjoyed the sight of Rose McGowan getting fucked in a bathtub in The Doom Generation despite the glaring sight of James Duval’s balls, forced myself to watch Nicolas Cage thrusting awkwardly into Laura Dern in exchange for long looks at her naked breasts in Wild at Heart, admired Annette Bening’s bush in The Grifters, stroked it to Samantha Micelli in Embrace of the Vampire, shot many a load while watching Jodie Foster take a shower in Backtrack, squinted to make out any trace of Jennifer Connelly’s labia in The Hot Spot, wore out the pause button on my VCR to catch a split-second glimpse of Julia Roberts’ nipple through the headboard in Pretty Woman, suffered through more than two hours of non-stop melodramatic schlock in order to ogle Elizabeth Berkeley in Showgirls, and stared eyes agape as Heather Graham cast off her clothes in Boogie Nights. Sorry, make that Twin Peaks‘ Heather Graham. Ah, the ’90s.
I know that in the past I’ve mentioned instances of celebrity nudity to which I have looked forward, notably Jessica Biel’s topless scenes in Powder Blue. So understand that I’m not saying that there are no celebrities I find attractive, or no instances of movie or television nudity that have gotten my attention over the last few years. There certainly are. The 2011 film Take This Waltz, in which Michelle Williams, Sarah Silverman, and Jennifer Podemski appear full-frontally nude in a lengthy shower scene, was for me what I’m guessing Under the Skin is for many pervy filmgoers today. I’m not sure why this film intrigued me so; I don’t consider myself a fan of Sarah Silverman, but the thought of seeing her naked was exciting. She seemed to me the least likely mainstream actress to drop trou for the camera. I suppose that I liked the scene perhaps because of its boldness. It wasn’t erotic or even overtly sexy; none of the women kissed or touched each other. It was a rather mundane depiction of three women taking a shower. Scrubbing. Having a conversation.
And that’s when it kind of hit me: Maybe it was the decided lack of glamour that I found attractive, and even arousing. Generally speaking, I can’t relate to the current crop of big-name Hollywood actresses. I’m almost thirty-eight years old. Despite the fact that I’m in contact almost daily with a woman ten years my junior – a woman I not only desire but consider a close friend – I acknowledge that the things that matter to this specific cohort – and for that matter, to men the same age – are vastly different than the things that matter to me. Generally speaking I don’t know what makes the younger generation tick, and that’s if they come from a walk of life similar to my own. Put them in several-thousand-dollar Versace gowns and near-priceless jewelry on loan from Martin Katz and while I’ll admit they look stunning they might as well not even be the same species as I.
And that is, generally speaking, why I’m over celebrities, or at the very least why I don’t fantasize about them, certainly not the way I did when I was a much younger man. While I certainly value an emotionally-raw or award-winning performance, it is rare that I find myself sexually attracted to a female celebrity, at least to the point of masturbating to a revealing scene, or to a fantasy of my own invention. I must disclose that I belong to more than one forum dedicated to the subject of celebrity nudity, the kind of place where much of the conversation over the past several months has concerned Scarlett Johansson’s aforementioned nude scenes. I visit these forums on a more or less daily basis. I check them to see if some groundbreaking piece of movie nudity-related news has broken, and in the off chance that some high definition screen capture of a hitherto unknown to me nude scene has been posted. But for more than any other reason, I check them out of habit.
A big part of the reason why I can’t relate to, and am therefore only superficially attracted to, the actresses and musicians who grace the covers of countless checkout aisle tabloids and entertainment magazines is because in the past couple years as a sex blogger I have made the acquaintance of countless women to whom I can relate, and to whom I am seriously attracted, not only physically but intellectually as well. And it helps that many of these women are attracted to me as well.
I find that my opinion of a woman’s hotness and desirability is greatly influenced by whether or not she thinks I’m hot and desirable.
— Jack (and Jill) (@jackandjillcpl) March 9, 2014
What’s the use in pining for some inaccessible supposed ideal who you’re unlikely to ever meet, much less take to bed? I have friends both male and female, married and single, who lust openly for some celebrity, who may even have a list of celebrities with whom they are allowed to have sex in the off chance they meet them at a crowded, smelly Wal-Mart in our far-from-Hollywood pocket of suburbia. And that’s cute. It’s good to have goals in life, though deliberately setting goals that you know you’ll never actually achieve seems counterproductive to me. Still, I understand the need for fantasy; when slogging through decades of monogamy a sliver of hope may be what keeps them sane, and/or faithful.
Oh, and since I’ve mentioned the word “ideal”, I should point out for the umpteenth time that I usually reject anything that society tells me is ideal. Doesn’t matter if it’s the ideal life, the ideal job, the ideal partner, or the ideal state of monogamy. If the population at large expects me to conform to it I’m probably going to scoff. Call me crazy, but I’m more likely to fantasize about the cute checker at the grocery store or the young woman I sometimes see in the elevator in my building than some flashbulb-blinded queen of the silver screen standing on the red carpet in a low-cut dress at the Oscars.
Why? Well, at the risk of applying a label where it is perhaps unwarranted, I find women in the first category much more “real”. That is to say, they are the sort of women I encounter in my daily life, and thus I can relate to them, and because of this I find them attractive. They have screaming, colicky babies who throw temper tantrums and don’t nap when they’re expected to. They have trouble sticking to a diet. They have mountains of debt. They have unreasonable bosses who take their personal problems out on them. I am not trying to insinuate that an A-list Hollywood actress is in any way unreal, though one could be forgiven for thinking so given her predilection for regularly swapping out her own identity for that of a character, and for pay. It’s simply the nature of the beast.
While most of the time I tend to get off to sexy chats with hot friends, well-written erotica, or provocative posts by my many fellow bloggers, if I’m looking for a visual turn-on for the purposes of masturbation and orgasm, I’d rather watch a porn film than a brief, often chaotically-edited scene wherein I have to squint through a darkly-lit film set in order to catch sight of an actress’ breasts for two frames. Granted, rather than a big-budget studio porn production I’d prefer to get off to a grainy DIY scene featuring actual people, i.e. unpaid non-actors. But if I’m determined to watch something sexy I’ll take what’s available. At the top of the hierarchy is some kind of amateur video shot with a handheld camera featuring a woman (or women) I might conceivably know. Below that is glossy studio porn. And below that is the artfully shot Hollywood film with a six-second scene of partial nudity.
I understand why people get so excited about the artfully shot Hollywood film with a six-second scene of partial nudity. I understand why certain segments of the filmgoing public spend months looking forward to one high-profile nude scene and then once it’s released begin anticipating the next one. After all, for many years I was counted amongst their number. The intention of a nude scene may be to symbolize a character’s internal vulnerability rather than to titillate. While it might not be as revealing or as overtly erotic as porn, for some there is something very appealing about getting an intimate look at a movie star or other celebrity whose career we may have followed for years, and to whom we have developed an emotional attachment.
But not for me. There are few actresses to whom I have such an attachment. That said, I need to check Netflix for a film called Not Another Happy Ending; I understand Karen Gillan gets naked.
– Jack
Granted, rather than a big-budget studio porn production I’d prefer to get off to a grainy DIY scene featuring actual people, i.e. unpaid non-actors. But if I’m determined to watch something sexy I’ll take what’s available. At the top of the hierarchy is some kind of amateur video shot with a handheld camera featuring a woman (or women) I might conceivably know.
You nailed it for me. But still, it’s Scarlett Johansson! Even so in keeping with the amateur versus paid nudity, those leaked selfies of hers were very nice. Amateur nudity is always better than something that requires a premiere at a film festival.
I appreciate actors and actresses, but I am with you when it comes to true attraction. Real people in my every day life are possibly attainable, which makes them that much hotter.
P.S. I don’t like Scarlett Johansson. She seems like she’s be a bitch in person.