Not for the weak willed...
I had an actual sex dream about a woman last night. It was involving a dildo, but still, I am unduly disturbed by this, largely because it was a woman from my past that I was in no way attracted to. I actually looked at her more like a specimen of how funny people can be. Would it be more disturbing if I did see her as someone that I'm attracted to?
For those of you that dont know me, this is only disturbing because I have never had, shall we say, "stirrings" for the same sex. It is interesting, though, how sometimes the other person involved in sex can be a voice, or a body part, or a feeling, and not a person. Meaning, I wasn't licking her pussy; she was more like a man, having sex with me. Therefore, is there significance to the fact that she was a woman? The other interesting thing was that I was completely aware during the dream that a) it was a dream b) it was weird that I was being fucked by a woman and c) that I would be disturbed by this the next day. I even, as part of my dream, told other people that I had a dream in which I had sex with a woman. So was the sex with a woman a way of humiliating myself, or daring myself to experience something new and different? Having an out of body experience in my body? Experiencing the essence of someone but not that person? Hmmm.
Back to Hustle and Flow, David Edelstein from Slate had an interesting take on it: "DJay needs a female vocalist, and, as luck would have it, his main lady, Shug (Taraji P. Henson), has a gorgeous voice and—being in her last trimester of pregnancy—isn't generating any income. She gives him a great performance without even having to be whooped very hard. Later, Shug tells DJay, tearfully, that making that recording ("Y'know it's hard out there for a pimp ... ") has made her life worthwhile.
Is Hustle & Flow purposeful in its irony? You'd think so, wouldn't you? I mean: Would a Sundance Film Festival premiere audience have leapt to its feet for a movie that is as opportunistic and misogynistic as its pimp hero? Brewer is a puzzle. He doesn't sweeten DJay or make the way the pimp roughs up his women more palatable. (...) What's missing in this self-proclaimed story of redemption, though, is something other than a fairy-tale finale. It's the sense that the filmmaker understands the consequences of exploiting women even if his protagonist doesn't.
Sorry—I just don't get that from Hustle & Flow. My sense is that Brewer knows he needs the abrasive material so that audiences will think they're getting unmediated realism instead of the usual rags-to-riches cliches. How else to account for how stupid these women are made to seem, and for how Brewer sticks his camera under Manning's tiny skirt as she sashays into the car of a john?"
Well said.
For those of you that dont know me, this is only disturbing because I have never had, shall we say, "stirrings" for the same sex. It is interesting, though, how sometimes the other person involved in sex can be a voice, or a body part, or a feeling, and not a person. Meaning, I wasn't licking her pussy; she was more like a man, having sex with me. Therefore, is there significance to the fact that she was a woman? The other interesting thing was that I was completely aware during the dream that a) it was a dream b) it was weird that I was being fucked by a woman and c) that I would be disturbed by this the next day. I even, as part of my dream, told other people that I had a dream in which I had sex with a woman. So was the sex with a woman a way of humiliating myself, or daring myself to experience something new and different? Having an out of body experience in my body? Experiencing the essence of someone but not that person? Hmmm.
Back to Hustle and Flow, David Edelstein from Slate had an interesting take on it: "DJay needs a female vocalist, and, as luck would have it, his main lady, Shug (Taraji P. Henson), has a gorgeous voice and—being in her last trimester of pregnancy—isn't generating any income. She gives him a great performance without even having to be whooped very hard. Later, Shug tells DJay, tearfully, that making that recording ("Y'know it's hard out there for a pimp ... ") has made her life worthwhile.
Is Hustle & Flow purposeful in its irony? You'd think so, wouldn't you? I mean: Would a Sundance Film Festival premiere audience have leapt to its feet for a movie that is as opportunistic and misogynistic as its pimp hero? Brewer is a puzzle. He doesn't sweeten DJay or make the way the pimp roughs up his women more palatable. (...) What's missing in this self-proclaimed story of redemption, though, is something other than a fairy-tale finale. It's the sense that the filmmaker understands the consequences of exploiting women even if his protagonist doesn't.
Sorry—I just don't get that from Hustle & Flow. My sense is that Brewer knows he needs the abrasive material so that audiences will think they're getting unmediated realism instead of the usual rags-to-riches cliches. How else to account for how stupid these women are made to seem, and for how Brewer sticks his camera under Manning's tiny skirt as she sashays into the car of a john?"
Well said.
posted by Brynne at 6:11 PM
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