Monday September 26, 2005 arts. michigandaily.com artspage@michigandaily.com C be 3idligan taiIl RTrS 9A . ...9A... 'Kiss kiss, bang bang' I A mong the pint-sized collection America ratings board, which also hap- of movies that everyone actually pens to be the cause of the first reason. went to see last summer was Using that ever-popular PR mantra of "Wedding Crashers," a goofy sexploita- "family values," the board rivals the FCC tion comedy that people loved, as far as I in its subtle and not-so-subtle censor- can tell, because it had gorgeous women ship of film in the United States. They with no shirts on and a grandmother can't force someone to cut scenes from a who got away with calling movie, right? Sure. But let's Eleanore Roosevelt "a big say a director is under con- lesbian mule." True, no one in tract to deliver an R-rated the movies today says "fuck" film that has sex scenes with quite the frothy, mouth- and it gets an NC-17 rat- foaming conviction as Vince ing (always for sex, never Vaughn, but I wouldn't have for violence) - the same guessed that would be enough rating the board gives to to sell a movie. Well, it was. actual porn. What choice The romantic-buddy comedy k does he have but to cut it? beat its one-joke premise to It's telling of our society death even before the grave- JEFFREY that we can't distinguish digging Will Ferrell cameo, BLOOMER between a movie that deals but now that it has grossedr more than $200 million, I'll just pretend I missed something. Then there was "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," a fluffy geek-sex comedy (quick: Aquaman or Catherine Keener?) that didn't quite garner a "Crashers"-sized repeat-viewer cult but still found a respectable following of guys who could relate more than they'd care to admit. Of course, to Hollywood, two R-rated hit comedies in less than one month means that the industry needs to hurry up and make 14 more before next summer. They will, and most of them will do great business - but we won't really consider what we'll be giving up. What's at stake? Critic Pauline Kael famously said, "The words 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang,' which I saw on an Italian movie poster, are perhaps the briefest statement imaginable of the basic appeal of movies." She was probably right. But unlike any other in the world, modern American cinema is all about the bang and almost never about the kiss. Sure, we love that pristine final shot when the guy finally gets the girl, but let's face it: It's a whole lot better if he blows up a legion of faceless bad guys to get to her first (bonus points if they might be nonwhite and/or are played by Sean Bean). In most American movies, sex is only a footnote - we get suggestions or a few voyeuristic glimpses of the action, but for the most part, we pretty much cut straight to the morning after. People have been duped into believing that there's an outward trend toward graphic sex in film, when the real possibilities of sex and sexuality amount to a great deal of unexplored territory in contemporary American cinema. It's not as if no one has tried: The adult sex movie died somewhere between "9 1/2 Weeks" and "Basic Instinct," when fetishistic domination fantasies involving blindfolds and a lot of fruit (yes, that's where those DiGiorno commercials came from) became bizarre tales of lurid obsession that solved themselves with Sharon Stone's legs parting and an ice pick beside the bed. And none of us are likely to forget "Showgirls," which might be the last big-studio NC-17 movie ever made and was the final bolt in the coffin for nonpornographic adult films. Basically, we have two institutions to thank for this: Studios that won't make the movies because they are bad business and the Motion Picture Association of frankly with sex and one that exploits it, but there you are. Consider the case of "Where the Truth Lies," the latest film from Cana- dian director Atom Egoyen, which features a three-way sex scene between Kevin Bacon, Colin Firth and Rachel Blanchard. Many viewers would, in fact, have no interest in seeing that, but now many of them won't have the chance to decide for themselves. The movie, which may well have expanded into wide release, will now only open in a handful of art-house markets because it will be released as "unrated" - the more PR- friendly version of an NC-17. Egoyen was contracted to deliver an R film but got lucky: The studio let the harsher rating slide. For better perspec- tive, recall that last February, the ultra- violent flaying scene in "The Passion of the Christ" earned an R, whereas a masturbation scene and a few full-frontal shots in "The Dreamers" earned a scarlet letter when it was released weeks before. So, wait, weren't we talking about sex comedies? "Wedding Crashers" and "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" were both considered sleeper hits because of their R ratings; studios took a risk, and it paid off. The problem is that it feeds into the MPAA-fueled machine of what is con- sidered acceptable screen content. These movies were risks because of their sup- posedly "edgy" material, a primary draw for audiences. But as long as we continue to be satisfied, the message is clear: Bare breasts and brief, mostly embarrassing sex is fine, but if a movie really wants to delve into the subject, forget it. Even as the MPAA finally gets over the fact that others besides straight white people have sex ("Brokeback Mountain" earned an R, among others), it refuses to acknowledge it consists of anything more than 30 seconds of frenzied dry humping. Yes, ratings are important for parents, but not when they leave a back door open for censorship. We have the Michigan Theater, so when "Where the Truth Lies" opens, we can judge its content for our- selves. But not everyone will have that chance, and as long as the MPAA contin- ues to be allowed free reign, the Ameri- can public will keep seeing the movies it wants them to see. - Bloomer was one of those guys who loved "The 40-Year-Old Virgin." Tell him it'll be OK by e-mailing him at bloomerj@umich.edu. FOREST CASEY/Daily Beck performs on Thursday at the State Theater in Detroit. By Gabe Rivin Daily Arts Writer CONCERT REVIEW Preparing to begin a variously intimate, explo- sive and exploratory concert, Beck shook his golden locks and flashed his peachy, boyish charm in front Beck of a sold-out show at the State Theater Thursday night. Beck. At the State Theater the Los Angeles-born freaka- Detroit zoid famous for his defiance of genre and musical categorization, promised wild antics and over-the-top stage props while tour- ing the world promoting his new album, Guero. Never a sucker for overhyped or decadent stadium shows and prone to making unannounced appear- ances at small bars around L.A., Beck performed a show at the State that was full of surprises and delighted fans of his sardonic, often absurdist humor and eclectic sound. As with his records, Beck's live performances constantly shift in genre and mood. While music from Guero was well represented, he performed a set list that spanned the length of his il-year career. Weaving between disco-funk jams, inti- mate solo acoustic pieces and loud rock tunes underneath faux-rap, Beck's 90-minute set kept up a propulsive momentum. Opening with "Black Tambourine," the stage lit up to reveal a group of seven men - the stan- dard rock quartet with some extra decoration. In one corner stood a video DJ, a low-key guy who mixed and scratched DVDs, rhythmically illuminating the screen behind the stage. Two keyboardists and occasional guitarists chimed in with vocal harmonies. The funniest, and perhaps strangest, inclusion to the group was Beck's danc- er - an ostensibly inept arm - and leg-pumper hidden behind big, black aviator sunglasses and a green jumpsuit who danced something like an awkward version of The Robot. Fairly standard versions of Beck's earlier hits, like "Loser" and "Devil's Haircut," let the audi- ence feel some '90s nostalgia. But pointed fingers and an eruption of mirth marked the grand descent of a 10'-by-5' "ghetto blaster" boombox from the ceiling of the theater while Beck jammed on "Where It's At." With his head ducked under this massive symbol of street hip hop, Beck rapped with his eccentric montage of disparate imagery ("Pick yourself up off the side-of the road/ With your elevator bones and your whip-flash tones"), looking as legit as any white guy wearing a red and white striped shirt possibly could. Other high- lights include the solo rendition of Sea Change's bittersweet "Golden Age." But the mood created by Beck's mature, goosebump-inducing voice wasn't enough. The song segued into an odd sec- tion in which his bandmates tapped rhythms with silverware on glasses as they sat on the floor of the stage, eating dinner. Funny flourishes aside, Thursday night's con- cert showcased the talent of one of America's most accomplished singer-songwriters since Neil Young. On Guero's "Go it Alone," Beck gracefully sang against a Southern gospel handelap/stomp rhythm that referenced 1930s Delta Blues. He strummed "Tropicalia," another acoustic effort from his album Mutations, alone - another successful genre-nod to the Brazilian bossa nova explosion in the '60s. Though not his original, he sang former tourmates the Flaming Lips' "Do You Realize" in an earnest, sincere way that went far beyond the sappy version the Lips released. After one encore with some funky tracks from Midnight Vultures and a perfect rock perfor- mance of "E-Pro," the man behind these musical paradoxes took off, leaving the elated audience to await his next Detroit tour stop. DAILY ARTS. WE WANNA GET wiH you. AND YOUR SISTER. (WE THINK HER NAME'S DEBRA.) wwwsbigmgeorgessco