Erotic 'Playback' challenges censorship policy
Erotic 'Playback' challenges censorship policy
By Laksmi Pamuntjak-Djohan
JAKARTA (JP): That Playback can be shown in cinemas here begs
at least two fundamental questions. Firstly, what has become of
our censorship policy? Playback is, put quite simply, a product
of the Playboy Entertainment Group, and is unequivocally
classified as erotica, rated R for strong sexuality and language.
Stripped of most of its graphic lovemaking scenes, this film
is, of course, better off not being shown at all. The plot is
typically thin, the acting wooden, the dialogue stale, the morals
shady. Every scene that doesn't have two naked people (or more)
writhing and groaning in ecstasy seems forced and unnatural, and
it usually isn't the reason for paying the price of a ticket.
Pornography, after all, is an accepted phenomenon, albeit not
of the kind that one wears and shows to the public. It inspires
whole industries, has its own criteria of quality and
sensibilities, and is a genre in itself. It happily re-cycles its
most talented actors and unabashedly borrows plot ideas from a
variety of mainstream screen hits. For moral weight, it
invariably feeds off Cosmo philosophy: hell hath no fury than a
woman scorned; men are lechers and they deserve chastisement;
infidelity is punishable even by death. In effect, corporate
skirmishing, domestic abuse, and lunatic baby-sitters are mere
sub-plots. Lurking beneath is the raging feminist exacting
revenge at all costs.
Which is what renders Playback's riding above our censorship
board's moral high ground a trifle odd, particularly at the time
when our own artists have come under fire for their alleged overt
sexuality. But it isn't as if double standard is a novel issue.
Furthermore, Playback is a 1995 release. It has been sitting
on LD rental shelves for practically a year, and doing quite well
too with soft-porn aficionados. Two years ago, Jakarta's
multiplex was similarly rocked by the sexy thriller Dead On,
starring Shari Shattuck and Matt McCoy. With most of its
highlights unceremoniously slashed, there was virtually nothing
left to hold our interest. But what made its screening even more
senseless was the fact that it had been on LD circulation for
almost two years. It seems that while blockbusters jet their way
here at the speed of light, porn films take a backseat and arrive
on slow carriages. But they still arrive.
Playback opens with Sarah Burgess (Tawny Kitaen), waking up
from a troubled night of unfulfilled sexual fantasies. She is a
lovely vision, with her lush tawny locks and long legs. What's
more - she's wronged, through and through. Her husband, corporate
ladder-climber David (Charles Grant) is a good sort, but being
the heir apparent to his boss, Gil Braman (George Hamilton) he
just doesn't have time for her. While he battles it out on the
hand phone, in the board room, and in the not-so-private
seclusion of his office, she is the very picture of innocence and
wasted sensuality.
"My problem is what he does with me whenever we're together, "
she laments to a friend. "What's that?" asks her friend.
"Nothing!" she finishes.
Trying to spark their love life, David comes home with a sexy
video and settles for a long night of seduction. A thrilled Sarah
reciprocates with a video tape of herself seducing David in a
sexual fantasy come-to-life. Their sex life picks up, and she
finds herself becoming more involved in David's office affairs,
while unknowingly rousing Gil's desire.
All these variables, once known to Karen Stone (Shannon
Whirry), David's ambitious colleague, are manipulated to catapult
herself to the top. As expected, the ensuing commotion is
Disclosure meets The Temp - and yes, she gets a dose of her
medicine, too. The difference is that Karen is deadlier than
Demi Moore's and Lara Flynn Boyle's characters combined. She is
also direct. After all, what do you expect of a thigh-baring vamp
who declares to a bunch of men in suits, "I'm the Ivy Leaguer
here. Yale. Summa Cum Laude."? Only God knows what she's capable
of when she feels slighted.
In fact, the entire film is as direct. You just know what's
coming, be it an activity of self - or shared- pleasure. Every
line is terse, not given to wit, subtlety, or any form of
stylistic indulgences. Often, points are neatly enumerated and
summarized, lest we miss them.
The woman's version: Sarah's friend advises her on deciding
whether a man is having an affair: a) spends more overtime at
work, b) wants to have sex with his wife more often, c) hangs out
more with his buddies, d) comes home "smelling of soap". When
Sarah concedes to one, her friend yelps, "He's flunked the
infidelity test!"
The man's version: David's friend asks him, "When was the last
time you did it with your wife?" When he is met with silence, he
exclaims, "That's it, you didn't remember. If I ask your wife, I
bet she'll remember. Give her roses? What are you? A f------
florist? Surprise her. If it surprises you, it sure as hell is
going to surprise your wife." You kinda wonder whether he is not
missing the point altogether.
It seems that the women are having more fun finding answers.
While poor David stumbles and fumbles in a sex video store,
looking decidedly out of place, Sarah leaves through a female
magazine and reads aloud with perfect gusto: "Do you have
problems reaching orgasm? Yessssss!" Now you understand why
female magazines make so much out of sex trivia.
Don't expect much acting either. This is TV soap-dom.
Although George Hamilton gets top billing, he's just sideshow
with too much eye make-up. Granted, he's been around since the
60s, but rarely does his acting credits extend beyond TV sex-saga
mini-series like Danielle Steel's Vanished (1995), Alex Haley's
Roots (1977) and Harold Robbins' The Survivors, or soapies The
Bold and The Beautiful (1987) and Dynasty (1981). When he does
venture into quality movies such as The Godfather: Part III (as
the Don's consigliere B. J. Barrison), he becomes an
embarrassment.
When not in TV series such as Hercules (1994) and Santa
Barbara (1984), Tawny Kitaen finds herself in movies with titles
as ridiculous as Perils of Gwendoline in the Land of the Yik Yak
(1984), or does voice-overs for Eek! The Cat (1992).
Shannon Whirry, a favorite with Axis Film's soft-porn director
Alexander Gregory Hippolyte, has bared her all numerous times for
films such as Animal Instincts and Mirror Images. She's good at
it, but that's the only thing she's good at.