The true meaning of porn, especially bad porn, continues to be discussed in the little corner of the blogosphere I wander (did I use “blogosphere” correctly), and no discussion of porn would be complete without a detour into taxonomy and/or semantics – what is porn, when is porn art, where’s the line between porn and erotica – that sort of thing.

My films get labeled all sorts of things: couple’s porn, women’s porn, erotica, amateur (on film?), pro-am (wha?), docurotica, pornumentary, all sex, educational (ouch!) and most recently “artisan porn”. Mostly I don’t really care what people call my work, so long as they buy in sufficient quantities that I can pay my bills, continue my work (which I like very much) and put some money away for a rainy day. That said, I don’t really like the word porn, and wish there was some other word for the films I make.

I don’t like porn because I think for too many people the word (rightfully) connotes a film or video that is going to demand the viewer lower their expectations with regard to conception and craft below tolerable levels. Make no mistake, expectation management is the indie filmmaker’s first and most important skill. But porn has leaned too heavily on the idea that the audience will forgive almost anything to see a little pussy. I won’t do that, and a lot of other people won’t do it either.

Another reason I am uncomfortable with the word “porn” is because for many people, porn means something is going make them feel bad if they watch; they’ll feel bad about themselves, or bad about the people on the screen, or bad that they’re aroused by something they know is cheap and shabby, made without care or craft. That last thing in the world I want my films to do is make people feel bad, and it breaks my heart a little that my films are (deemed to be) part of genre that makes so many people feel bad about themselves or bad about sex.

This is why I don’t like the word porn. It’s too laden (justifiably) with all sort of negative baggage, and more than that I think it keeps my films from being seen by people who would enjoy them.

So then how about erotica?

Well yes, almost. I like the word erotic, so erotica should be fine. Except it’s not, not for me at least.

My awareness of the word “erotica” goes way back to when Dworkanites and social conservatives first banded together and began together began to float the idea that “pornography” did all kinds of bad things to people and society (rape, murder, that sort of thing), and that it should be banned, or at least more heavily regulated. Up until then, porn was chic (remember pornchic?); no need for a euphamism, porn was porn.

But by the early 80s, the video camera was already sucking the creative life out of porn (you’ll never see The Opening of Misty Beethovan ever again) and the moral tone of the country had changed. Now porn was bad, and something needed to be done about it. (I still have a picture of Ed Meese going into a Times Square porn shop burned into my memory – talk about erototoxins!)

Anyway, “erotica” became code for “porn that fits my moral code”. No one ever wants the sexually explicit stuff that they like banned, so it becomes erotica. Erotica is fine, but nasty stuff that other people wank to is porn. Ewww! This always made me think, “Oh, so if you diddle your clit while reading erotica, it’s okay. But if I want jack to pictures of a buxom brunette with her ass in the air, that’s not okay. That’s porn.” That sort of parsing of what turns people on didn’t fit my moral code. (It also probably had something to do with the fact I am a photographer and took exception to the idea that there are things you can write about, perhaps even paint, but can’t photograph.)

And then as the Meese Comission cloud descended on the erotic landscape, and Penthouse and Playboy started dispearing from 7/11s, “erotica” became a code for sexually themed photos or videos you hoped would be explicit, but never were (*cough*skinamax). “Erotica” was about knowing there’s no place in descent society for cunts, cocks and cum.

And so just as I don’t want to use a label that makes think our films are going to make them feel bad, I don’t want them to think they’re not going to get to see cunts and cocks and cum in a Comstock production, because absolutely you will. Our films are about cunts and cock and cum. So sorry “erotica” is out. Maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m still pissed the Dworkinate for making me feel like I should be ashamed of loving ass so much, or still pissed at Skinimax for not delivering the goods, or maybe I’m still pissed that of all the truly horrible things I’ve trained my camera on in 20 years of photojournalism and documentary filmmaking, the thing that gets people the most upset is a nice pink pussy. But whatever it is, I don’t like the word “erotica”, so it’s out.

So then what should you call Comstock Films? If you enjoyed Xana and Dax and you want to tell a friend about it, what kind of movie should you tell them it is? I say I make sex films, or films about sex. Hardcore love stories could work, but I think somebody is using it.

Maybe we don’t yet have a word for the kinds of films I make. (Ack doesn’t that sound pompous!) But I am absolutely delighted with the words that people use when they say why they like my films; words like “passionate” and “tender”, words like “real” and “raw”. That’s what I feel when I have sex with my wife. Isn’t that what we want to feel when we watch a film about sex?

-TC

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 30th, 2005 at 5:35 pm and is filed under Documentary, Pornumentary, erotic documentary, erotica. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.