Monday, April 11, 2005

Watching Antonioni at the Sunshine

This weekend I had to run out of a movie theatre during the final piece in Eros, the just-released trilogy of “erotic shorts” because my laughter had become as uncontrollable as the wildest of libidos . Here’s a brief visualization exercise to help you understand what I was fleeing from.

Before we start, make yourself as comfortable as possible. You might want to loosen your necktie, take off your shoes or stretch out your legs. Feel free to recline if you prefer. Close your eyes. Imagine that you are in a movie theatre, in the dark, surrounded by your fellow citizens. Imagine that you are watching a movie. This is a movie that you paid ten dollars and fifty cents for and it is showing at a reputable independent movie house. Someone in a row close to you is eating popcorn. Take a deep breath. Now:

Picture breasts.

Picture breasts under a diaphanous shirt.

Picture the breasts under a diaphanous shirt on the body of a woman getting into a convertible.

Picture the convertible driving halfway down a road, stopping, reversing, and then driving down the road again.

Picture nymphs singing from a distance across water.

Keep picturing breasts.

Picture the breasts attached to a woman picking up a wine glass and rolling it onto the floor in a scene with virtually no other action or dialogue.

Picture a woman riding on a horse and lines like this:
--“Are you ready for my chaos?”
--“What kind of chaos?”
--“Total chaos.”

Picture bigger breasts.

Picture a man rakishly licking bigger breasts.

Picture a close-up of an ear cuff.

Picture a close-up of a toe ring.

Picture a man with an ear cuff bringing his mouth up to the foot of a woman with a toe ring.

Now, open your eyes.

Are you aroused? No? Well, are you shaking with not-so-silent laughter and crying? Are you feeling an urgent need to guffaw at top volume? Excellent. You have now successfully completed the visualization exercise: “Watching Antonioni at the Sunshine.”

At the sight of the mouth approaching toe ringI had to leave the theatre and gain composure in the hallway (I was so afraid that he was just going to suck it right off!). Of course I returned to take a seat in the back row just in time to see Juliet, my movie date, running up the theatre steps away from what she has dubbed “the twirling pussies”. I sense that no visualization exercise is necessary for a scene so accurately labeled, so I’ll spare you a description of it and of the naked improvised dancing on the seashore and the wild horses. If you have ten dollars and fifty cents burning a hole in your pocket, give it a horny seventh grade boy and go and watch some women with shirts on.