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Journalism of Courage
The Naked and The Damned
When a very nude and very pregnant Demi Moore posed, in profile, for the cover of Vanity Fair 8212; one hand covering her breasts, the other suitably obscuring her lower regions 8212; it sparked off the usual media controversy, sales of the magazine skyrocketed. A flood of letters poured in: most of them applauding this quirky-erotic expression of impending motherhood, and a token amount written by outraged mothers, vehemently stating that their children would be corrupted by blatant pornography8217; openly displayed at news stands. Although I didn8217;t agree with the outraged mothers, I could, in all fairness, understand how a public display of this picture might offend more orthodox sensibilities than my own.
The rating system exists to forewarn us of what we are about to see. Surely then, as thinking adults, we can choose whether or not we wish to subject ourselves to possible sex scenes?
Stanley Kubrick8217;s Eyes Wide Shut is apparently being shown, as filmed, to European audiences; but in America, the orgy scenes have been digitally remastered to suitably obscure all genitalia. Does this mean that the Europeans are mature enough to handle private parts, but the Americans are not?
From my experience, Americans accept nudity in the performing arts quite easily, particularly when it is intrinsic to the story. Yet this is still taboo in India, a land in which, paradoxically, we are constantly subjected to half-clad beggars and row upon row of genitalia facing us as we pass by in the local trains. Where the poverty-stricken masses defecate along therailway tracks8230;
I remember sitting spellbound in a small, off-Broadway theatre, watching the enthralling Kathy Bates who now has a string of Tony and Oscar awards to her name in Terrence McNally8217;s Frankie and Johnny in the Claire de Lune. The play, a bittersweet romance between a dumpy waitress and a greasy cook, opened with the two of them playfully making love under the sheets, amidst much grunting and giggling. Suddenly the sheets were flung off, and the inimitable Kathy Bates, all 300 pounds of her, proceeded to cross the state stark naked, and cook a meal. The play continued, a searing love story between two people in various stages of dress and undress, its poignancy highlighted by their humdrum lives, bodies and personae. The fact that Johnny continually lusted for her less-than-perfect figure added just the right twist of exquisite pathos.
Kathy gave me an important acting lesson that day: when you perform a dangerous8217; scene, be it nudity or anything else that takes you emotionally outon a limb, you commit to it wholeheartedly, embrace it with every fibre of your being, or don8217;t do it at all. In that particular script, the nakedness was vital and meaningful; and it could not have been easy for an overlarge woman to be comfortable in front of thousands of Broadway viewers. Yet she performed so fully and unselfconsciously that she walked away with hysterical audience acclaim and a Tony award.
David Henry Hwang8217;s M Butterfly, another highly successful award winner, was based on the true story of an American diplomat posted in the Far East, who had a love affair with a demure, kimono-clad Oriental woman. In the shattering climax of this play, the woman disrobes, and the audience gasps to discover a wiry, highly virile man underneath. The delicately crafted performances and unimaginable outcome turned this into a smash hit. Shock tactics 8212; but inherent to the plot.
I8217;m not, in any way, attempting to champion the rights of pornography, or to point a critical finger at self-appointedmoralists. All I8217;m trying to say is that, provided the medium is kept within the confines of a theatre; the performers are consenting and uncoerced adults, and the potential viewers are given the appropriate information, shouldn8217;t we, individually, be the guardians of our own standards of morality?
Sohrab Ardeshir is an actor.
