Barenaked Ladies

The lights in the auditorium were dim.  Upon circular tables sat buckets housing champagne.  The club was small, but that meant the action was never far away no matter where you sat.  The room grew dark until the spotlight landed on a skimpily-clad female singing “Paris, je t’aime.”  Fully-dressed men twirled around the dancing ladies.  Everyone lip-synced except for the ringleader, a French woman with a boyishly short haircut and a pleasing bilingual voice.  

Before heading to the Parisian cabaret, I was forewarned that the female performers dance topless, and this advertisement alone was sufficient to persuade many male members of my group, including myself, to see the show.  I expected the nudity from the waist up, but I was surprised to discover how the sexual aspects were not emphasized.  This wasn’t some pornography parlor where raunchy men congregate to ogle some stranger’s breasts and get their fix.

I remember the discomfort and the weird sensation of studying pornos in my film seminar during my senior year of college.  There were about twelve students stuffed inside a cramped room where my professor played a variety of pornos.  In one of the films, a hotel concierge seduced customers and did the dirty behind the reception desk.  In another, a Disney-esque character walked around with an erection as big as his leg.  The cartoon inserted himself into a hole of a fence.  On the other side was a horse with no standards as to what he would put into his mouth.  These films were funny due to their absurdity, but others were more graphic. 

During the screenings, I looked around the room to see how everyone else was reacting to the sexual content.  It was awkward to witness such a private act while being part of an audience, but we were protected from a lot of discomfort since we were watching the porno with a studious eye.  This was a film theory class about movies not shown at commercial theaters, and we studied the purpose of films.  Why are people watching this film?  What’s the relation between viewers? 

My classmates and I were associates rather than friends.  Our discussions never grew very intimate.  We often refrained from attacking each other’s beliefs and instead opted for safer comments that maintained the conversation but often lacked passion.  Sexuality tends to be repressed in professional environments, and for this reason most of us wouldn’t reveal our true thoughts about the pornos we saw in class.  We couldn’t talk about sex, even though it dictated our motivations.  The thought of sex influenced our outfits and where we chose to sit in class.  I had a crush on one of my classmates, but I was slow to reveal this to her.  Why couldn’t we say what’s on our minds?       

There are certain images we hold inside our minds that we would not want to project.  Pornography’s strength lies within its secrecy.  A man can act in a distasteful manner without damaging his public image.  Even if you are watching a normal, non-graphic movie, the viewer experiences scoptophilia, pleasure derived from looking.  When you watch a movie, the characters onscreen can’t see you, but you can see them. You’re allowed total access to private matters, and you don’t even have to hide. 

 
When you replace the screen with real people who can meet your stare, how does this affect the viewer?  I contemplated this as I sat with my new friends and we watched topless dancers bounce lightly on their toes.  Despite the fact these women were clearly on display, they did not merely present themselves as objects to be stared at and mentally consumed.  As the women stretched their legs above their heads, you weren’t supposed to think strip-club thoughts.  Instead, you were to marvel at the various forms and achievements of the human body. 

The Can-Can girls flapped their skirts and willingly exposed their undies.  They were playfully aware their bodies were sexualized, but they used this power to their advantage.  There was no shame in their actions, and there was no shame in watching.  The performers were beautiful creatures who knew that if they showed some skin the audience would gaze at their perfect bodies with adoring eyes.  None of us was afraid of our instincts.