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Connie’s eyes darkened. “I don’t need to watch pornography to understand the evil that it causes,” she said defensively. “I don’t need to sit in some seedy back alley theatre filled with depraved old men to know that the industry preys on young girls and manipulates them for nothing more than cheap thrills and sick pleasure.”
I sensed some mist of rage creep across my eyes – a concoction of alcohol and my own sense of disbelief.
“You know nothing about me, and you know nothing about the industry. Yet without any information to support you, you are prepared to tarnish the entire industry and paint it with the sam
e broad brush stroke.”
Connie stood up, shaking her head so that the braid swished across her shoulders like the tail of a big cat. “What about the complaints?” Her voice became adversarial, rising in a challenge. “There are endless complaints leveled at the porn industry, claiming that films such as yours only serve to objectify women – that women are being used in the most demeaning of ways merely for a man’s pleasure?”
I waved my hand in the air, swatting away the question with weary content.
“Bullshit,” I said simply. Years ago I would have been more defensive, more impassioned. But after a decade in the industry, I had heard this objection so many times I no longer bothered with a sterner response.
“The porn industry is diverse and massive,” I said with my jaw clenched. “Aspects of the porn industry appeal to every fetish and fascination men and women have. Some elements of the porn industry focus on graphic acts beyond your imagination, and yet others emphasize the more subtle, gentler sides of sex and intimacy. You cannot put everyone in this industry in one group and label us all as seedy and depraved and demeaning towards women.
“In my films, I put women on a pedestal,” I said. “I glorify women, not objectify them. I show them at their most passionate and most beautiful. They are the center focus of every scene.”
“… Performing all matter of sex acts,” Connie cut in.
I smiled thinly and shook my head. “No. Showing themselves as real women,” I countered. “Showing them at their most vulnerable, their most powerful. Showing them as sexual and sensual – celebrating their femininity.”
Connie huffed, seeming to bristle with antagonism. I saw words leap into her mouth, but I went on belligerently. “What sets my films apart, and what makes them the high-end is the budget,” I explained. “I spend a lot of money, and it shows on the film. It’s the opulent sets, the beautiful actresses I work with…”
“But it’s still porn,” the journalist cut across me defiantly.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s still porn – but the films are done tastefully,” I defended myself. “We use two – sometimes three cameras – and everything is filmed in high definition.”
“Yes,” the woman countered. “But it’s still pornography.”
I wheeled around on her, suddenly irritated, and it took all of my restraint to keep my voice measured with reason.
“And the ‘National Enquirer’ is a publication. So are all the glossy porn magazines. So is ‘Infinity’. It’s the quality of the journalism and photos that makes your magazine so successful. The same applies to my films.”
She glared across the space at me. Electricity seemed to spark in the air between us. I could see her face filled with emotion and the hectic rise and fall of her breasts beneath the white blouse like she was trying to control her breathing and her temper.
“Okay…” she conceded warily. “But even if I accept that your productions are ‘high end’ porn, what about the other side of the coin? The seedy side of porn? There must be one.”
“There is,” I said grimly. “Back in the 80’s, every porn film was shot on a set. There were cameramen, make-up people… even fluffers. Each film was staged, and there was more formal dialogue. But then the handheld camera came along, and so did free porn sites on the Internet. Suddenly, everyone was an instant porn filmmaker – and a lot of young girls got seduced and taken advantage of. It has become a generation of almost instant pornography. A guy with a handheld camera can throw a little cash at a desperate, young girl and film her. An hour later he can upload that footage. It’s not tasteful, and the girls are forced to consider more desperate and outrageous acts if they want the work. If they hesitate, it’s always easy to find someone else who is more desperate, or more gullible.”
“What happens to those desperate gullible girls?”
I shrugged. “Invariably they get chewed up and spat out,” I said. “They get used, abused and discarded.”
Connie looked strangely bleak and disturbed. There was a frown of concern on her face.
“The girls get promised exposure,” I said. “They are told that they are being offered a big break. They get told they are doing an audition tape and that – if they perform well enough – the footage will lead to work within the industry. Often it’s a scam.”
“I see…” Connie seemed to glance away and become distant, like her focus was elsewhere.
“After a couple of times, the girls either realize they are being used, or they become even more desperate. And naturally there are plenty of drugs and booze on the scene. A lot of these young desperate girls turn to drinking and drugs in order to perform the outrageous acts the guy behind the camera demands. If they stay sober – or lucid – they would never consider some of the things these guys expect of them. Drugs and booze numb the reality – for a while. Until it’s over.”
“That’s why your industry has such a vulgar reputation,” Connie said with her face screwed up into an expression of disgust. “Those sleazy opportunists preying on young girls – that’s how everyday people view the world of pornography.”
“I don’t agree with you,” I said flatly. “While I have to concede that there are too many scam-artists operating in the porn industry, they are the bottom-feeders – that scum at the very lowest levels of the porn industry. But, the porn industry isn’t the only one to have its image blackened by opportunists with no morals.”
“Is that so?” Connie’s tone was acid.
“Look,” I said with conviction. “The most common scam these predators run is the one I have already told you about – they set themselves up as fake agents, and they run ads in newspapers seeking young female models for adult work. When these impressionable young girls who are either desperate for cash, or have stars in their eyes meet with the guy, he tells them he has connections with the big studios, and the girl needs to shoot an audition tape,” I said wearily. “Naturally, the girls think this is standard procedure. So the guy gets the girl to undress and puts a camera on her. Ten minutes later the guy makes it clear to the girl that he needs to know that she is capable of performing all manner of sex acts, because he wants to represent her and he needs to assure the studio that the girl knows how to suck and fuck.”
I wandered around the room, frowning as I walked, gathering my thoughts. “Suddenly the girl is bent over the edge of this predator’s desk with her panties around her ankles and him getting himself off by using her for sex. It’s not nice,” I made the classic understatement, “but it’s what happens. After the girl has been used and humiliated, the guy wants nothing to do with her. He brushes her off with the old line about forwarding the tape to his contacts, and that he will be in touch with her. There might even be a promise of work… if the girl is naïve enough to subject herself to that kind of degradation for a longer audition tape.”
I stood there for a moment in the middle of the room and then shrugged heavily. “That’s the way it happens,” I said and then my voice regained its bitter edge. “But this is not the only industry, Connie.”
“You keep saying that,” she challenged.
I gave her a wintry smile. “Maybe you should look at politics and the sleazy politicians who run this country,” my voice had bite. “Let’s start there, with all the double-dealing, and the corruption that takes place. Let’s look at how many politicians have been caught up in sex scandals. Hell, even presidents aren’t immune…” I let that remark hang in the air for a long moment. “And then you should turn your investigative journalist’s eye towards law enforcement,” my voice cut through the air. “How many cops have been dragged down and disgraced because they abused their power, or because they were corrupted by sex or drugs…?” I stood, like a defense lawyer pleading his case. “Do you really want me to go on?”
Connie was watching me, compelled by the passion in my voice, and her expression softened just a fraction. “But you’re not one of those guys?”
“One of the sleazy ones?” I shook my head.
“You’re not preying on gullible girls who are desperate for exposure and strung out on alcohol or drugs?”
I shook my head again. Connie sat down suddenly. “So what are you looking for when you’re performing a scene with a woman?” She snatched up her notebook, flicked to a blank page and then peered up at me, pen in hand, with an air of expectation.
“Apart from a great pair of tits and a killer figure?” I taunted.
“Yes,” she said dryly.
I smiled, then became serious. “I’m looking for passion,” I said honestly. “I want a connection between me and the woman – a genuine attraction – and then I want that emotional chemistry to be captured on the screen for viewers to see.”
“How?”
“Through the sex… through the woman’s facial expressions. I want her to look hungry, aroused, even a little scared and unsure sometimes.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter what emotions they show, so long as they’re real. So long as they’re genuine. The porn industry of the past was full of bad acting and stilted female performers,” I lamented. “The sex, the settings… everything about the porn of twenty years ago seemed fake and fabricated. It is the one benefit that has come about from the handheld camera. Because of it, we’re able to shoot in exciting new locations without the need for truck-loads of production equipment, and we’re able to move more freely around a scene, so that the viewer gets to see the action from angles that were impossible in times past.”
The woman jotted notes as I talked, then looked up suddenly when I fell silent.
“But none of that matters if the actresses are still faking, right?”
“Right,” I agreed. “That’s the real key to my films. I take advantage of the new technology, and combine it with grand settings and actresses who aren’t expected to act – they’re expected to interact.”
The journalist looked grudgingly impressed by my turn of phrase. She scribbled another note and then flipped the page of the pad resting in her lap.
