New movies demonstrate prevalence of sex in city
Those of us on West Coast aren’t doing it like they do in New York
David Holmberg To find out if Holmberg lives by George Michael's lyrics, you can e-mail him at dholmbrg@ucla.edu. Click Here for more articles by David Holmberg
It must be an East Coast thing. At least, that is the only
explanation that could make two of this summer’s New York
love dramedies understandable to us poor sexually-repressed West
Coasters.
Both “Fast Food, Fast Women” and “Sidewalks of New York” are supposed to take realistic looks at the complications of sex and love, but if these are what relationships of sexual freedom are all about in the Big Apple, it is time to pack my bags.
It’s all about sex. Sure, Hollywood has been telling us this since the dawn of popular culture, albeit much to the dismay of religious and right-wing groups. And this focus on sex makes sense, too, since it is one of the three vital acts necessary for the survival of human kind, the other two being breathing and eating which admittedly have limited cinematic value.
Sex, therefore, is an important part of our culture that warrants expression in artistic endeavors.
New York and Los Angeles are often considered to be the two cultural capitals of the United States, so somewhere in between, probably around Ohio, there has been a serious disruption in sexual consciousness.
Here, on the West Coast, sex is something to be talked about and thought about, and manifested not in action but in enticing and/or revealing clothing, preferably leather.
There is nothing deficient in the sex drives of us West Coasters, but let’s just say if the sexual energy gone wasted could be harnessed, consider California’s power crisis solved.
The New Yorkers, however, are walking the walk that, from our limited view, is only an idealistic fantasy. To quote George Michael’s clear-cut song “I Want Your Sex”, it is apparent that “Sex is natural/Sex is good/Not everybody does it/But everybody should.”
Oh, and those crazy East Coast dwellers do it with anybody, too. That is, of course, if we believe everything we see in the movies.
And why not believe these films? Only 18 million of the six billion inhabitants of the world live in New York, so what do the rest of us ignorant fools know about a city where people live in boroughs and travel in underground tunnels? Sounds a lot like a bunch of rabbits.
Well, that may be the answer to all the confusion about New York. Rabbits are the self-proclaimed (if they could speak that is) icons of free love. Therefore, rampant sex is understandable in a city like that.
The evidence is about as obvious as George Michael’s lyrics. In Amos Kollek’s “Fast Food, Fast Women,” a 35-year-old waitress, Bella (Anna Thomson), is looking for love in all the wrong places.
While unhappily sleeping with an older theater director, she finds that elusive passion in the womanizing Bruno, played casually by Jamie Harris, who also happens to be sleeping with various women of all ages who find their way into his cab. First-date sex is good, and is expected to be in this wonderfully alien world.
This could be passed off as a fantasy if Edward Burns’ new comedy, “Sidewalks of New York,” was not waiting in the next bedroom, begging for its turn. Arranged as a series of mock interviews, we are led into the pants, I mean pains of three ultimately intertwined relationships.
Heather Graham, Rosario Dawson, Dennis Farina and Stanley Tucci all show up looking for some action, and pretty much all leave satisfied. The number of sexual partners ranges from three to 500, which is high by even “industry” standards.
In both films, everything about sex is discussed openly, from affairs to placing cologne on that “special place.” It is an expected and completely accepted part of relationships.
In addition to these two new films, a number of other New York-based sex comedies prowl the shelves. Practically any Woody Allen film, most notably “Annie Hall” and “Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Sex,” is New York-based and rooted deeply, very deeply in sexual farce.
And where would a column about East Coast sex be without mentioning Sarah Jessica Parker’s popular “Sex in the City”? Sex is the thing, and New York is the place to do it.
Now, to talk about West Coast sex comedies. Well, there is, of course ... and then there is ... Apparently, the number of West Coast bedroom comedies are filmed in inverse proportion to the rising tally of Madonna’s partners. In a strange way, this lack of films about West Coast sex is expected, given the generally repressed, or restrained depending on your inclination, attitude towards it.
Sex here seems to be better in the abstract. There is no denying the sheer volume of sexually suggestive billboards lining Sunset Strip, but who is doing anything about it? Southern California is the perfect embodiment of this superficial sexuality because it is a culture based on fashion, style and overall appearance. If it is below the surface, let it stay there. That is what the policeman told me, anyway.
If art mirrors life, then it is time to take a long look at our reflection. Taking morality out of the equation, it is a wise idea to consider the potential effects of the sexual dismissal occurring throughout the Western edge of the United States.
New Yorkers, the crazy bunny rabbits that they are, deal with sex as the naturally understandable part of society that George Michael would certainly approve of. Or maybe none of this exists, and it is all just a fantasy created in the minds of misled filmmakers. After all, they are only movies.


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