Twenty-five years ago, Brian De Palma planned to give porn star Annette Haven the lead role of “Holly Body” in his film Body Double, but backed off as controversy threatened to erupt. Today, Oscar winner Steven Soderbergh builds a whole movie, The Girlfriend Experience, around porn star Sasha Grey, and no one blinks. Why does the star of Anal Cavity Search 6 and This Ain’t Star Trek XXX land this rare crossover opportunity?
For the same reason that the 21-year-old has appeared in videos by the Smashing Pumpkins and The Roots, sat down with Tyra Banks, and been interviewed/celebrated by publications including Los Angeles magazine, Rolling Stone, and The Wall Street Journal—shaved and airbrushed, the porn industry just isn’t as dirty as it once was. I remember the filthy old days of the ’70s, when the New York Post ran titillating ads for adults-only fare like The Erotic Adventures of Pinocchio (“It’s Not Just His Nose That Grows!”) and the neighborhood cinema where I grew up in sleepy suburban New Jersey went from showing Disney double features one summer to hardcore porn in fall. When Love Muscle replaced The Love Bug, a snake had clearly crawled into the Garden State.
In 1979, when porn was outlaw, it was easy to believe in the premise of Paul Schrader’s Hardcore, which scandalized my high school. “Oh my God, that’s my daughter,” fretted the poster, above an image of an anguished George C. Scott. From what we knew of the sleazy shenanigans out in Hell-A, it was entirely believable that an innocent girl like the one in the movie could be lured from an amusement park in California, drugged and raped on film by “Jism Jim,” then transported south of the border for snuff movie murder at the hands of the fearsome “Ratan.” (It was never believable that Scott, as the girl’s rigidly conservative father, could successfully masquerade as a swinging porn producer to find her, as also happens in the film.) Twenty years later, a similar premise seemed laughably quaint in 8MM, with Nicolas Cage doing the worrying. It wasn’t just that 1997’s Oscar-nominated Boogie Nights had looked at the 70’s porn scene with bemused nostalgia. The entire industry had moved off the streets and onto our VCRs, DVD players, and finally our computers, where it became tamed and domesticated, at least for the viewer. The porn theater merged with the home theater; no need to hide behind a raincoat and join the unwashed at the triple-XXX bijou, or skulk out of the videostore with tapes embarrassingly concealed from passers-by.
via No Concessions: My Porn “Experience” | Popdose.
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