Guys On Film
By Stacie Adams
Dong shots! No two words in the English language thrill me more, except maybe band entrance and Japanese steakhouse.
Remember when action movies always had that one scene where the anti-hero cries into his refrigerator, or gun, or eight ounce glass of whiskey over his dead dog, or wife, or kid? And remember how in these scenes said anti-hero would usually be without pants and have an ass like Michelangelo’s David?
Those scenes were put there for women like me. That’s what got women like me out of the house to see some crappy action movie we would have avoided otherwise. I remember watching To Live and Die in LA and just about fainting during a scene offering a full frontal view of William Petersen’s ‘situation’. Who among us hasn’t been at least a little curious about the cut of Gil Grissom’s jib? And there it was in all its glory.
I realize an unsheathed penis on film is usually an NC-17 rating and that means most theaters will refuse to run your movie, but is that really sensible? Don’t most of us see wangs on a daily basis, either your own or a loved one’s? Will the world end if you see a comely young actor’s package flopping around? I don’t have many causes, but I think I just might take this one up.
When I tell men about my desire to see more actors whipping it out, many come back with objections, the main one being shrinkage. It’s probably cold in that studio, and nerve-wracking too, with all those key grips and burly work men watching you cavort with some actress in her physical prime, biting into hot dogs from the craft service table, saying, ‘What’s the big deal?’ That dong shot will live in infamy, either getting you laid for the rest of your life or laughed at and pitied.
But fear not, cock lovers, for there is a milky white light at the end of this flesh tunnel. British director Steve McQueen’s impending film, entitled Shame and probably named for how all those boyfriends and husbands are going to feel after viewing it with their ladies, is slated to be a tour de force of Michael Fassbender’s brick house body.
The story surrounds a sex addict (because when I think of sex addiction I think of young Magneto, not some slob jerking it into a paper bag at a red light) and his increasingly risky behavior due to his insatiable libido. Sure it’s a drama, but who cares? I’m going see Michael Fassbender’s manhood! Leave it to art films to provide that which Hollywood lacks. Next on the agenda, balls. Look for one or both of them in a theater near you.