لميس
مشرفة
 | | موضوع: شاهد فيلم: هل هناك ممارسة جنس بعد الموت الإثنين فبراير 25, 2013 11:03 am | |
|
شاهد اونلاين من هنا:
http://www.nowvideo.eu/video/cp7975zc7dn8g
قصة الفيلم:
Dr. Rodgers, leading specialist at the
Bureau of Sexological Investigation, is heading up a full-scale research
project on American sexuality and bedroom practices. He travels the
streets asking provocative questions of the citizenry and even confronts
"President Nixon" about his public policy "positions" regarding the
ribald. We meet Dr. Manos (Buck Henry, The Graduate), an expert in
natural breast enlargement; Vincent Domino (Marshall Efron) a notorious
pornographic filmmaker who dreams of one day making a hardcore Tarzan
film with just "the ape-man and a she-lion"; and Merkin, the first
X-rated magician, famous for pulling scarves out of a woman's privates.
Interviews are conducted with quasi-celebrities Holly Woodlawn (an Andy
Warhol icon) and Robert Downey (Dad to Jr. and director of Putney
Swope), each discussing their viewpoints on eroticism.
But the main focus is intercourse and the various ways people prepare
for and perform this act. Rodgers seeks advice from noted dildographer
Dr. Elevenike, a bunch of nature-loving nudists, and a panel of
philosophical perverts discussing the dynamics of humping. After a
strange séance, a standup comedy-like Q&A with Ruben Carson, and a
visit to the Sex Bowl (where international competitors fornicate for
fame and national pride), Dr. Rogers gets back in his Winnebago
Sexmobile and returns to the clinic, never once finding out the answer
to the question, Is There Sex After Death?
Is There Sex After Death? envisions itself as a far more randy and rowdy
version of Woody Allen's episodic experiment in comedy of the carnal
called Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Sex * But Were Afraid
to Ask—which is odd, since it actually came out before the notorious
nebbish's nude bomb (it does borrow from Allen's earlier Bananas,
though). Trying to mix an exploitation exercise by masquerading it as a
social satire on sexual mores, this hit-or-miss, mildly amusing mess can
best be described as a Jokes for the John commode compendium come to
life. Think of animated Penthouse Magazine cartoons, with really
repulsive people taking the place of pen-and-ink pulchritude, and you've
got some idea of what this madcap mediocrity is all about.
The film is basically divided into three sections, all intermingling
among each other to form a kind of kinky free-for-all. The most
successful sections are the uproarious "man in the street" interviews,
where the elderly and the shy are asked some of the most outrageous
questions ("What's the biggest vagina you've ever seen?" "Do you enjoy
bestiality?") ever conceived. And many of their answers (and attitudes)
are priceless. Less successful are the "staged" Q&As with either the
famous (Downey) or the fake (Henry's Dr. Manos). Most of the time Dr.
Rogers (writer/director Alan Abel) simply feeds them weak setups and
lets them extemporize and improvise—and nothing very funny ever comes
from it (most of the time, the individuals just look confused). Lastly,
we are treated to low-rent skits and carnal comic blackouts that tend to
either fall completely flat or really overstay their welcome.
Call it Lust, American Style or Lewd-In, but this brainchild of
professional practical joker Abel (who once masterminded a hoax asking
people to diaper their animals to prevent beast indecency) is much ado
about nothing really naughty. Now, from a 1971 standpoint, this is all
very envelope-pushing stuff, outright scandalous at times. But the
silliness inherent in most of the skits offered is just a cover for the
risqué inclusion of full frontal nudity, simulated copulation, and an
overall prurient tone. Unlike other sex farces of the genre, like If You
Don't Stop…You'll Go Blind and Can I Do It 'Till I Need Glasses?, Is
There Sex After Death? really wants to pander to the then-expanding
hardcore audience, to get as close to penetration and ejaculation (the
standard for XXX fare) as possible, without resorting to actual acts. So
what you get here is a great deal of groping, fondling and fooling
around.
Oddly, however, nothing is very erotic or exciting. The majority of the
female cast look like rejects from Playboy's annual "Portly Co-ed"
expose, and the men have members so miniscule that Howard Stern should
feel incredibly well-hung. The sexual congress is mostly of the faux
filibustering kind and usually resembles a couple of tired wrestlers
desperate for their second wind. When a nudist colony dance party (to a
naked cover band banging out "Good Golly Miss Molly") looks like
outtakes from the musical version of Helter Skelter, it's time to run
down to the local adult entertainment shop for a few CCs (or should that
be DDs) of Jenna Jameson—stat! With its mostly unsuccessful satire and
some fairly shabby skin, Is There Sex After Death? should be easily
advised as an asinine attempt to be avoided, right?
Actually, no. Even though watching hillbilly headcheese porn would
probably be more interesting and adventurous, this movie is recommended
for what it represents. America is perhaps the most Puritanical society
on the planet. Our hang-ups have repressed memories, and issues of sex
and sexuality are usually greeted with children-considering horror. So
the fact that something like Is There Sex After Death? decided to tackle
such tawdry issues as penis size, fetishism, and adult-themed art makes
it miles ahead of its time, comic atmosphere or not.
Besides which, Abel is actually out to construct a point with this
occasionally retarded rot. The reason that wit based in the tit is so
belly-busting for most people is that individuals tend to laugh at what
they fail to understand. And when it comes to human affection and the
physical representation of same, there should really be nothing remotely
hilarious. Love and sex, according to Abel's approach, are virtuous and
beautiful ideals made all mean, mad, and manic by a conservative belief
in the filthiness of basic biology. So he purposefully confronts those
who would ridicule real sex education and the frank discussion of fears
and phobias, putting them on camera and giving them a chance to make
asses of themselves. While the ancillary actor attractions can be merely
distracting (like the topless string quartet or the lewd light
operetta), the real people input in Is There Sex After Death? leaves a
lasting time capsule to the sadly straitlaced aftermath of the sexual
revolution. While not always funny, the film is loaded with interesting
social commentary.
Image Entertainment releases this rarity in a frills-free format that
should leave fans of Abel's media mischief fairly aggravated. In order
to sell this item to an audience that will otherwise be, perhaps, turned
off by the salacious subject matter, a little background on this
huckster hoaxster would have helped. Some of the ersatz causes Abel
championed are incredibly interesting (including a recent ruse revolving
around selling vials of Jennie McCarthy's pee). It would have been nice
to learn more about the fake Sex Olympics he promoted, how he convinced
the news media that he was Omar the Beggar running a school for
professional panhandlers, or any of his other notorious exploits. With
the man very much alive (he even has his own website), an audio
commentary or interview/documentary for this forgotten film would have
been wonderful. As it stands, we get a somewhat faded 1.33:1 full screen
transfer that fails to address some obvious print issues. The Dolby
Digital mono track also enhances the movie's made-on-the-cheap
production values. The sound is tinny, scattershot, and occasionally
unintelligible.
Still, for a collect call from the end of the free love movement, Is
There Sex After Death? is a nice, nostalgic walk through a particularly
smutty side of life. While some of the content is still shocking by
today's standards, this once-funny film is now a relic of a slightly
schizophrenic time. We'd like to think that after 34 years, we are more
enlightened and capable of dealing with our erotic hiccups. Sadly, it
seems we've gone backward since the film's premiere. Is There Sex After
Death? at least took some of its subject seriously. Today, sex is just a
gag, a joke expressed in far more "juvenile" terms. Too bad we couldn't
have learned something more serious. But perhaps comedy is what caused
the problem. With all its snickering about sodomy and fooling on
fellatio, is it any wonder we treat carnality as a crock? Is There Sex
After Death? therefore once again makes its duplicitous point. It wants
us to laugh at the lewd. But how can we understand its satire over all
the giggling | |
|
