From the love scene in BRETT AND MELANIE: BOI MEETS GIRL

You would think that after 15 years, a dozen studies and half a dozen well-liked films that it would get easier, that I would start to feel like I know what I’m doing.

And in some ways it has.

When I get stuck, I can remind myself that in many ways, whatever the current couple might be, the approach has proven to be artistically and commercially successful, and there stands ever good chance that whatever I’m stuck on will give way, and ultimately I will find myself with another entertaining and erotic film.

But there is a flip side.

The approach is so very spare, so unaffected, that there’s precious little place to hide. In answering their own self-posed question “Why did we do this?” Brett and Melanie answered almost unison, “Fucking is easy, this (meaning the interview and the overall intimacy) is the hard part.”

Indeed.

With every successive film I become more and more aware how laid bare I am in this work. Maybe not to viewers, whom I hope are caught up in the words and bodies of the films’ subjects, but to myself.

—

For those of you who have been reading this blog for a while, perhaps you’ve noticed a shift in the tenor in the past year or so. An uncertainty has replaced gumption. Too often generosity has given way to bitterness. 10 years after all the promise the internet seemed to offer for a real change in how sexuality and image-making might be understood, I look around and to me it looks like meet the new boss/same as the old boss; and I find myself making vows that I won’t get fooled again.

Then while I was in Bermuda, this:

Dear Mr. Comstock,

I’m just writing to you to thank you for changing my life. Okay, so that’s a bit effusive, but also true. In addition to simply growing up in our sexually insane society, I’m an abuse survivor. For all of my life, sexuality has been a harsh contrast between what I’ve secretly imagined it could and ought to be, and what a profound source of trauma it’s actually been. You make films that dare to show the former; that say “yes, this truly exists in the world, it is not just a fairy tale, and ordinary mortals can aspire to achieve it.”

Your artistic courage and conviction have deeply inspired me, and I hope in some small way I can inspire you in return. You’ve blogged about your frustrations with the porn industry, Google, and… well, just about everyone, in a culture that doesn’t understand what you’re doing. Please don’t forget that you aren’t doing this for them. I don’t know how many others actually write to you to say this but I feel certain that I’m not the only one for whom your vision of sexuality has been, or will be, desperately needed in today’s world.

Keep fighting the good fight.

S.W.

I read S.W.’s words tucked in the v-berth of INTEMPERANCE and was shaken to my core. I wrapped my arms around myself, holding on tight as I sobbed great heaving sobs and tears and snot streamed down my face. Six weeks earlier, at NYU Film School I compared myself to that immortalized Korean War Marine corporal, out of ammunition and options and shedding brave and and frustrated tears, still willing to fight, if only he had the means.

But that was not me in Bermuda. Means gone. Will gone. Nothing left but anguish that S.W.’s life had been so deeply wounded, that it fell to my meager little films to provide comfort, and shame that after all my good fortune, I didn’t know if I had the strength to “keep fighting the good fight.”

—-

BRETT AND MELANIE is locked. I am now working on getting a good encode, and from there making the DVD. Serendipitously, just a couple of days ago I received an e-mail from the Cultural Affairs Officer at the New York LGBT Center (where earlier this year Ashley and Kisha had two very successful screenings) asking if they could hold the World Premiere. I happily agreed. It’s nice to have my work acknowledged. It’s nice to know that the film will have an opportunity to play in front of an appreciative audience. It’s nice to know that at least sometimes, the film’s the thing, not who made the film, or why they made the film; but whether or not the audience will feel their time’s been well spend watching the film. I think I still have the will to fight that fight - to make films people enjoy seeing.

Last Friday I did an interview with Yacht Blast’s Gary Brown in the cockpit of INTEMPERANCE whilst anchored in Simpson Bay on the dutch side of St. Maarten. Gary wanted to ask me what it was like to be a first time skipper on the non-trivial passage from New York to the Caribbean via Bermuda, and I was glad to share my experience with Gary and his listeners; not because I’m an expert offshore sailor (far from it!), but because I’m an expert on what I did.

Through out my (so called) career as a documentary filmmaker, that’s always been my philosophy in how I tell stories. Yes, occasionally I talk to experts, (mostly for context and exposition) but I am primarily interested people who are actually living the story. In 2000, when I went to Zimbabwe to make a film about the phenomenom of child-headed households in the wake of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, I talked to a few experts, but mostly I talked to the children, some as young as 10 years of age, who were left to look after their younger brothers and sisters after their parents died. Not so many facts and figures, but a lot more humanity; at least thats’ the way I see it, and that’s what interests me; not facts and figures, but real human stories.

It is precisely for this reason that the label “educational” chafes a little. Yes, I understand the role that our films can and do play in educational and theraputic situation. It’s unbelievable that after more than 100 years of cinema, it falls to yours truly to provide a simple, normalized view of sexuality; and I’m told that my films are found to be useful in situations as divergent as the rehabitation of sexual criminals to providing reassurance and encouragement to couples experiencing intimacy problems, to a simple “visual/emotional aphrodisiac” for couples how are already experiencing a robust and satisfying sex life. But my films are decidedly not “how to’s”, and more than that, I think there’s a real danger in how-to’s

Bill (of Bill and Desiree) touch on this in this passage from near the end of Love is Timeless.

And I had some further thoughts about education vs inspiration and the surfing concept of “stoke” in my post from last year titled “Not Everything Is Mt. Everest (Selling Sexual Dysfunction)”

As I related this to Gary, he told me about backing his way into telling the story of how he and his wife survived being capsized in the Bay of Biscay, and how important it was that his experience not be contextualized as expertise.

“The sea is different for everyone, and what worked for us in that situation might be the exact opposite of what would work in another situation. ” said Gary, and my mind flashed on the woman with whom I had a serious relationship while I was just out of collage, particular how different how she enjoyed cunnelingus was from how my wife enjoys it.

“Laura” liked it hard. I mean really hard. I mean I had a callous on the inside of my lower lip from using it as a pad to keep my teeth from cutting into her. She liked my chin pushed into her. I’d contrive ways to cantalever myself so I could bring the weight of my body to bear on the task.

By contrast, Peggy likes such a light touch, I nearly have to make a game of *not* touching her. Save the fact that it’s my mouth and a women’s vulva, I’d scarcely call two undertaking by the same name. Against these divergent realities, what constitutes expertise? Like Gary and his wife, fighting for their lives in the Bay of Biscay, and ultimately surviving, what more is their to say beyond, “This worked for me in this situation, but mostly you have to listen, mostly you have to pay attention.” Like the sea, sex is different for every person.

—

Once I made the decision to make the trip from New York to the Caribbean, I scoured the internet looking for material that would give me an idea of what it might be like to be “out there”, but mostly I was disappointed. The stuff written by experts was laden with, well, expertise. The stuff on YouTube, while convincing in its authencity, was under produced (for all the promiss of this new DIY media age, making a good video still requires more investment in time than most amateur efforts can afford to invest.)

Before we left for our passage, I had had the thought I might shoot some footage along the way and produce a video, something along the lines of “Bluewater Sailing: I did it and so can you!” but I spent most of the trip either hanging on for dear life (New York to Bermuda) or simply soaking in the experience (Bermuda to St. Maarten.) I don’t think I took more than 10 minutes of footage the whole trip, and what footage I did take is decidedly unprofessional looking. Some more rumination is in order on whether I have anything to offer the sailing world in the form of a film…

In the mean time, here’s a photo of where I am now — Marigot Bay, working on Brett and Melanie, and anxiously awaiting the arrival of my wife and daughters.

INTEMPERANCE lying at anchor in Marigot Bay, SXM

A 12 pound mahi mahi on it’s way to becoming the best lunch I’ve ever had.

Nine days.

That’s how long it took us to sail from St. George’s Harbour in Bermuda to Simpson Bay in St. Maarteen. Some highlights:

I beat a fish to death with a winch handle and ate it for lunch.

I swam in 15,000 ft of water in conditions so calm that at night I could see the reflection of individual stars in the ocean.

I got sea sick for only the second time in my life. (The first being
Montauk to Bermuda)

I sailed for four days with a light wind on our port quarter and hardly touched the tiller once.

I (finally) satisfied 30 years of curiosity and longing to find out “What
is it like out there?”

In total the trip from Montauk to St Maarten was 16 days at sea and 10 days waiting in Bermuda for weather. We sailed about 1800 nautical miles covering a point to point distance of about 1500 miles. I saw things I’ve never seen before, including things I hope to never see again (my mainsail triple reefed being one of them.)

I feel changed. I’m not sure exactly how, but I feel changed. It’s something about covering a great distance at five knots, but also about the vastness. Writing to our trip’s godfather, I said it was “magically mundane” and he seemed to think that was as good a description as he’s heard in all his voyages, but we both agreed it doesn’t do the experience justice.

What comes next, I don’t know. Some very nice people helped me make this trip by pre-ordering Brett and Melanie: Boi Meets Girl, so I’d guess I’d better get it finished up. I got it more or less finalized while waiting on weather in Bermuda. Now just a little polishing and it’ll be done. It is a *very* sweet story, real lump in my throat tear in your eye stuff, which is not something you hear about films that feature giant black strap-on dildos.

Anyway, I can check my e-mail once or twice a day, so I guess I am now officially back in contact. Many thanks to all who sent well-wish or kept us in your thoughts. It was much needed and much appreciated!

Swimming next to INTEMPERANCE on a calm day, in thousands of feet of water and hundreds of miles from the nearest land.