Tag Archives: 2022

CAPSULE: SAFE WORD (2022)

Aishiteru!

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The sixth installment in the Pete’s Perverted Pix series

Safe Word is available for purchase or rental on-demand.

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Kawase Chisako, Torinomi Nagisa

PLOT: Idol singer Misa is gets recruited by an adult club and becomes a professional dominatrix under the tutelage of a mistress.

Still from Safe Word (2002)

COMMENTS: Ladies and gentlemen, and everyone on the spectrum, your humble hedonist has returned from a veritable safari of sex exploring weird movies on the BDSM circuit. Today’s movie, together with “TFTtTfDSHP” and Antiporno, are among the three nakedest and kinkiest films I’ve ever seen. In my quest for the weirdest of erotic fetish cinema, I have hiked through the valley of boobies, twin peaks marching like sand dunes to the horizon. I have seen every body part smacked, licked, tied, or splattered with paint. I have explored enough daddy issues and mommy issues to make Sigmund Freud choke on his cocaine. I’ve witnessed acts not even documented in the Urban Dictionary. In particular, I’ve snorkeled through oceans of estrogen, because the points of view with these movies have been overwhelmingly female. Girls dominate this genre! So far, the kinkiest male-focused erotic film I’ve seen has been directed by Kenneth Anger. Boys, you need to catch up! I’ll say it again, the first director to make a serious film about a male/male S&M relationship will have a name that lives in film infamy. The Yaois alone will carve your likeness into the sides of granite cliffs.

Today’s film, Safe Word (named for the actual BDSM practice of having an emergency signal in case the bottom can’t take it anymore) is almost too on-the-nose for the current project. I picked it after the previous entry based on my interest in diving deeper into Japanese “pinku” and “Roman Porno” cinema subcultures: Antiporno was a send-up of the genre, so let’s see a serious entry. Safe Word is indeed as pink as a cartoon panther alright, with kinks o’plenty paraded and bountiful flesh ahoy. It just isn’t all that weird, though quirky bits and scenes do provide enough strangeness to at least make for an unusual entry. The plot is basic and unadorned with psychedelic fluff. Misa (Kawase Chisako), a singer/celebrity with a tepid career, gets recruited by a mysterious adult club. She’s offered the role of house dominatrix, to be employed on the business end of a whip for high-priced clientele. At first she’s repulsed, until she finds out she can take her aggression out on smiling and willing masochists. Then she dives into the deep end of kink. (It’s clear she was at least curious about this BDSM business to start with.) The story sort of follows the template of Buñuel’s Belle De Jour (1967), with mild commentary on contemporary social and sexual mores, but Japanese hentai style.

Not that Misa gets to crack the whip on clients from day one, oh no… she has to be trained. Wink wink, cue the oft-written BDSM scenario known as “boot camp” where a harsh master/mistress collars a new slave and puts them through an obstacle course of pulse-pounding, edgy fetish activities for a month until the bottom “graduates” to topping. In this case, Misa’s mentor is the scene-dominating Kanon (Torinomi Nagisa), a statuesque femme fatale who instantly snaps a psychological chain around Misa’s neck from their first meeting and leads her though a series of painful, humiliating, or just orgasm-inducing experiences. Later Misa takes on her own clients, whom are satisfied with a standard beating/tie-up/nipple clips routine, for the most part. But what of her former (ongoing?) idol career? What about her public reputation? What can she say to her friends when she’s being paraded around town by Kanon with a remote-controlled vibrator down her pants? And is Misa in a relationship with Kanon, or is she merely the latest in a succession of Kanon’s human playthings? Mild tensions are set up, but there’s really not a heavy plot here so much as a showcase of perversions.

As for those quirks I promised: Safe Word takes itself as a mild comedy. The main running gag is that it’s a mockumentary, which means (despite the cinematography being professional) the cameraman is randomly acknowledged in-scene, sometimes by characters mildly alarmed that their big sadomasochist session is about to be recorded, or sometimes by characters who take the opportunity for a selfie pose. Sporadically Misa live-blogs on social media about her thoughts on her career, stardom, and sexuality. Small details stand out, such as the decor inside the adult club where most of the action takes place: a baroque, elaborately painted parlor whose walls are crisscrossed with knotted rope, as if the walls themselves were bound. That’s honestly the weirdest it gets, if you don’t count the near-constant acts of hedonistic excess playing throughout.

Safe Word is a well-crafted film which serves as a serious treatment of alternative sexuality every bit as deep and respectful as Secretary (2002), while becoming a near-nirvana for hentai/Asian erotica fans. Note the difference: every culture has practiced bondage, but only the Japanese raise it to its own recognized art form, shibari. Who can help but admire such dedication? Safe Word is not for the vanilla viewer, and barely vouched for as a watch for weirdophiles, but for loud and proud deviants everywhere it’s highly recommended, a leather-and-rubber-clad valentine to the modern civilized sadomasochist.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“The film’s message is PERVERTS YAY!!! Take pride in yourself. Being gay, fat, handicapped, non-binary and indeed pretty much anything legal has been reclaimed as a badge of identity these days… but what about disturbing kinky weirdos? Their time should come. Embrace your tastes. Don’t be ashamed of what you love.”–Finn Clark, This Way Down

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

366 UNDERGROUND: CUDDLY TOYS (2022)

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY: Kansas Bowling

FEATURING: Kansas Bowling

PLOT: Professor Kansas Bowling, with a degree in “Teen Age,” draws on myriad examples of girls’ ruined childhoods to explore the dangers of impressionability and sexual predation.

Still from Cuddly Toys (2022)

COMMENTS: There’s a human skeleton arranged on a string, a red backdrop, an old slide projector, and a strange figure: a professor, she tells us, with her field of study situated on the grim intersection of the evil and the mundane. Shattered futures, injured esteem and injured bodies, dogged sunniness, doom, defiance, death, and rape: all these elements, across numerous (“There are 100 actresses in this film”) testimonials, flesh out this frightful and compelling, sometimes experimental and sometimes verité, mockumentary dissecting the teenage girlhood experience in all its harrowing possibility.

These girls’ lives unfold in a murky ’70s-to-’90s era, with postcards sent from the road, nary a portable phone to be seen, and the recurring Scott Walker tune, “It’s Raining Today,” lashing ominously as crooned counterpoint to the poppy Nilsson/Monkees title track. After a brief introduction from the professor, Cuddly Toys dives right into its deadpan-dreadful proceedings with a “Miss Pre-Teen” beauty pageant, setting the tone: we’re in for a nasty ride, made just barely tolerable by the clinical absurdism of our guide and the improbable perkiness of (some of) the girls and women onscreen.

But discomfort—to put it mildly—weighs on the viewer, and appropriately so. As a general rule, I am not prone to guilt by association, but by the film’s end I was truly appalled by the evil potential, and the evil realized by, my fellow men. I had no objections to Bowling depicting this, however. There’s far too great a streak of nastiness in the world, which menaces one sex exponentially more than the other. That said, Professor Bowling slips in a trenchant observation in her closing remarks—one which raises the question as to which sex is actually considered more disposable.

Cuddly Toys is a mind-blowing journey into the casual cruelty found in our culture, weaving harrowing nightmares from grubby dreams. The victims are clear, and the perpetrators—though predominately male—seem to be just about everyone; there is more than enough blame to go around.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“I definitely wouldn’t shade you if this was not your cup o ‘tea, it’s weird. Part shockumentary, part arthouse fever dream, it’s an astutely delivered, if a bit meandering, pitch black mondo-comedy.”–McBastard 2000, Rock! Shock! Pop! (Blu-ray)

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

Cuddly Toys [Blu-ray]

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CAPSULE: WETIKO (2022)

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DIRECTED BY: Kerry Mondragon

FEATURING: Juandaniel García Treviño, Dalia Xiuhcoatl, Neil Sandilands

PLOT: A Mayan boy delivers hallucinogenic toads to a jungle love cult led by a Western shaman and is sucked into their petty intrigues.

Still from Wetiko (2022)

COMMENTS: It’s all fairly coherent until the moth flies into Aapo’s ear. Zake, sus shaman of the “Empire of Love,” wants to host a ritual trip for a tour group in the Mexican jungle. As an outsider, he can’t legally buy the necessary psychedelic toads, so through his sexy right hand gal Luz he drops a wad of cash to rent the toads and milk their trippy secretions for a night of enlightened debauchery. Teenager Aapo motorbikes into the heart of darkness to deliver the bufo, but through plot contrivances ends up staying there all night, despite his mother’s wise warnings to stay away from the unsanctioned ceremony. The Empire of Love compound is inhabited by  assistant shamans, a cadre of quiet servants all bearing the first name “Maria” (one of Wetiko‘s creepiest ideas), and a cray-cray drug-damaged westerner who seems like he will play an important role in the plot, but quickly disappears. Aapo spends an inordinate amount of time prepping the frogs, since his skill with them may be less than the group requires; then, while touring a sacred cave, he gets the aforementioned moth lodged in his ear. Of course, Zake has him chug a bottle of vile-looking green liquid to expel the bug, and of course, the fluid makes Aapo start trembling, sweating, and seeing montages. Although he will sober up every now and then, the remaining two-thirds of the movie are basically a long psychedelic trip. Although everybody seems pretty high, the actual toad ceremony takes forever to arrive, particularly since everyone continually loses track of the frogs themselves.

A lot of people inside the Empire have their own agendas, but with the distracted and fragmented narrative, we never get a clear sense of where the players stand. Even so, lack of clarity in the plot is not a huge impediment for the movie. But the lack of clarity in character motivation is. Aapo is positioned to go on a vision quest, but his character is so bland and ill-defined that we have no sense of what that might entail, other than, perhaps, his sexual initiation into adulthood. The movie is more concerned with villain Zake, who is suitably Machiavellian but whose schemes and plans are little more than a bundle of anti-colonialist and cult-leader tropes, as nebulous the gobbledygook (“welcome, star beings, to our Empire of Love…”) he uses to manipulate his dupes. Sure, the movie drops hints of sleazy land purchases, sexual exploitation, even murder, but what is Zake’s end game? Aapo supplies the hallucinogenic toads, but why Zake is specifically interested in him beyond providing that simple service is left to your imagination. That’s not to mention all the other people in the cult, some of whom may be playing their own games, but all of whose motives remain a mystery, making their eventual power grabs seem arbitrary. Zake is a baleful influence, sure, but he hardly feels real: he’s more a non-specific, obvious symbol of destructive western exploitation.

The rich opportunity to satirize ethnobotanical tourism—the phenomenon of crunchy rich white people traveling to the jungle to take drugs with native shamans—is barely grasped at. Although not strictly a horror movie, Wetiko fits into the folk horror tradition, the kind of flick that might share space on a disc in 2040’s “All The Haunts Be Ours, Vol. 9.” There’s a scene intended to remind you of the ending of Midsommar, and you might almost be tempted to dub it The Wicker Mayan. What Wetiko lacks in logic it seeks to make up through febrile atmosphere, although the low-budget drug scenes relying on odd camera lenses, echo-y audio, neon lighting, and incoherent editing are nothing you haven’t seen before. What’s more effective is the setting itself, the feeling of being abandoned deep in the jungle with no civilization around to help out if things take a turn for the worst. In fact, the movie is at its best in its sober first act, when everything is new and feels more ominous and portentous than events eventually justify. Wetiko initially seems exotic, but ultimately it’s little more than Aapo getting sucked into a bad trip of colonialist metaphors. I’ll stick with street drugs.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…has the hazy vibes of an acid trip, putting the audience alongside Aapo as he’s drawn deeper into this baffling, dangerous underworld.”–Josh Bell, Crooked Marquee (VOD)

CHANNEL 366: DON’T HUG ME I’M SCARED (2011-2016, 2022)

DIRECTED BY: Becky Sloan, Joseph Pelling, Baker Terry

PLOT: Red Guy, Yellow Guy, and Duck find their days consistently interrupted by anthropomorphized objects in their home and uninvited guests who insist on teaching them lessons about life via song, dance, and increasingly unsettling interactions.

Still from "Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared"

COMMENTS: There’s a reason that children’s television is, on the whole, weird. After all, there are two competing, even contradictory goals at work: these shows often want to teach young people some valuable life lesson (the alphabet, how the mail is delivered, treating your friends with decency and respect), but hold the audience’s notoriously wandering attention while doing so. All those talking aardvarks and talking Blue Heelers and talking magical unicorns are handwaving determined to steal a child’s focus with any degree of strangeness necessary. Landmarks of the genre going back decades—“Captain Kangaroo,” “Kukla, Fran and Ollie,” “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse” —have all danced along the line where oddness tips over from charming to off-putting. Even the grand poobah of them all, “Sesame Street,” had to overcome initial concerns that its central conceit—humans and puppets living side-by-side—would be incomprehensible to children. Obviously, the kids figured it out.

Any success inspires parody, satire, and critique. Children’s TV has certainly earned its fair share, as can be seen in the stressful adulthood of the characters in Avenue Q, the aggressive surrealism of “Wonder Showzen,” and the oppressive nightmare of today’s subject, “Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared.” This British web-series-turned-TV-show is perfectly captures the way that just living in the world can feel like unavoidable oppression. The machinations of people who are venal, stupid, or both conspire against “Don’t Hug Me”‘s characters, through the lens of two puppets and a guy with a crimson mop for a head who just want to get through the day. For anyone who remembers childhood as an endless series of grownups trying to kill your fun with their wondrous tales of adulthood and education, this is a show that sees you clear as day.

“Don’t Hug Me” began as a web series, and it establishes its theme—the world is fundamentally cruel—right away. In the very first short, a singing sketchpad shows up to share the wonders of thinking with boundless imagination, and after engaging the trio, she immediately proceeds to shut down their creative efforts with helpful corrections like “Green is not a creative color.” And there’s always room for things to get worse. A collection of creatures trying to describe love pile on more and more parameters and qualifiers, culminating in the revelation that they worship a giant idol and feed it gravel. An interest in food spurs on a storm of questionable nutrition advice, recommending aspic and referring to vegetables as “soil food.” These Continue reading CHANNEL 366: DON’T HUG ME I’M SCARED (2011-2016, 2022)