Beaten: An Exploration of Kink in Popular Media

Words by Daniel Gianfranceschi

Graphics by Levi LoCascio-Seward

The following contains spoilers and mentions of sexual acts generally deemed “deviant.”

Black leather, painful heels, and a propensity for physical pain is what the mistress of our time ordered, or so it would seem. Generally speaking, the portrayal of deviant and transgressive acts of sexual liberation in popular media is deplorable at best. Especially considering that, depending on your algorithm, one might be enticed to find any sort of “soft-core-but-not-really-soft” content in the form of suggestive videos on any social media platform. This, perhaps, is less a question of the chicken before the egg. As in, the media is just propelling what might seem idealistic as universal, or, simply put: we are all, as suggested, a bunch of horny, perverted blobs of the creature we once were. In addition, one is more so rationalizing the belief that’s here to stay: sex still sells, and it sells better than most other commodities. 

For some, the ungodly “50 Shades of Grey” (2015) was the epitome of perversion (spoiler alert: it isn’t.) It’s akin to a light scald on a hot plate rather than the rigorous practice of BDSM. For others, it was the final nail in the coffin of a social dichotomy: how can something as taboo as deviant sexual practices be commoditized and packaged as something to strive towards, almost as if, by comparison, standard sexual practices would be obsolete? This is, of course, false on all accounts, since there is no hierarchy in sexual activity but that of the personal. Yet we remain accustomed to leaving the portrayal of such proclivities in the hands of those who have either never licked a leather boot and been punished by the fringes of a whip or lack the artistic vision required to portray the edges of sexuality in a meaningful, respectful, and authentic way.

In addition to this rather tragic tendency to Hollywood-ize even our most inner and (often) secret desires, the people that culture normally belongs to must see their beloved harnesses scandalized by horny, white men that are not only notoriously difficult to work with – looking at you here, Mr. Von Trier – but also seem to be more interested in their own psycho-sexual agenda rather than delivering a film that anyone would relate to.. In the case of the “Nymphomaniac” (2013) franchise – a series of movies that follows the sexual escapades of a woman named Joe, the audience is clearly never asked to have any pity for Joe, which might even be a good outset to begin with, but one cannot shake feeling slightly guilty in indulging in such a rather bleak film. This, to Von Trier’s credit, is precisely where the movie retains some sense of reality; a rawness that would probably be the same one Joe feels in her sexual journey. In fact, where the movie shines best is in these glimpses of complete debauchery for debauchery's sake, bordering on the senseless, at times. There is no real reason for Joe’s actions, nor does there need to be one. Still, if one wants to see a bunch of sub-par fucking, visit the home page of any adult content website. Still, Von Trier does not fall into the trap of his own pornography.

The same cannot, unfortunately, be said for Steve McQueen’s “Shame” (2011), in which we follow the life of a sex addict, aptly played by, arguably, one of the most handsome Hollywood actors, Michael Fassbender. In the opening sequence of the movie, we are confronted with Brandon (Fassbender’s character) in the pursuit of his own lust. We see him entering a subway and making eye contact with a nearby female passenger, who, for whatever reason, is almost automatically entranced by Brandon’s charm. Now, it is arguable that almost any sensible human being would be at least mesmerized by Fassbender’s facial features, but to allude to the horniness of this mysterious woman on a subway being exasperated just by a few looks is preposterous at best. Furthermore, the movie also fails to realize that charisma must be warranted, or at least justified, and Brandon does neither one nor the other, like, ever. If the movie’s intent was to shed light onto the “illness” that sexual deviancy is, it is completely derailed by its own overindulgence in testosterone-garbage and a plot that is laughable at best. It’s music, overtly dramatic and symphonic, constantly reminds the audience that we ought to feel pity for Brandon, who, were it not for the movie’s title, has never heard the word “shame” in his fictional life. Sure, he grapples with his addiction and is, at the very least, aware of it, but all this is coded behind sky-scraper-telenovela-bullshit and Fassbender’s abs. Again, my God.

Equally confusing is the Finnish erotic black comedy “Dogs Don’t Wear Pants” (2019). What starts out as a semi-realistic plotline, underlined by a lucid-dream-like scenario of auto-erotic-asphyxiation, is aptly derailed by situations that throw the movie out of the neo-realism it came from. Juha, the movie’s main character, randomly stumbles into the basement-dungeon of a dominatrix while his daughter is getting her tongue pierced upstairs. To much surprise, Mistress Mona allows him to be there and even engages in acts of deviant eroticism. Now, if this were how everyone found their Master or Mistress, the world would surely be a more freaky and lovely place, but that is just not how reality works, unfortunately. Also, he didn’t even have an appointment and, presumably, did not sign any wager or contract before this first rather impromptu bondage session. Question for all dominatrixes: Would that ever, in a million years, be a realistic scenario? No? Thank you. Thankfully, the movie saves itself in the third quarter by sprucing things up a bit with a touch of, you guessed it, realism. Juha is asked to test his faithfulness to Mona by letting her rip out a tooth with a pair of tongs. In one particularly captivating moment, we see Juha moan in pain, but only because Mona was pulling on the wrong tooth. Juha adjusts the tongs, letting Mona rip out the tooth. This scene is perhaps the only moment in the movie where the congruent dichotomy of the relationship between pain and pleasure is portrayed in a way that feels decidedly authentic, and extremely vulnerable (and not only because of the obvious physical pain). Juha is essentially picking pain over non-painin order to eventually find pleasure on the other side, surrendering his wellbeing to Mona. Aside from Fassbender’s flaccid cock appearing out of nowhere for no reason, this is a rather engaging piece of media that touches on the potential of sadism in sexuality. By the end, Juha is seen reveling in his newly found kinkiness, and we love that.

A similar tongue-and-cheek approach to BDSM, albeit a more effective one, can be observed in “Sanctuary” (2022), wherein Christopher Abbott – who seems to have a propensity for being dominated by women in many of his recent features – plays Hal, a frequent client of his mistress Rebecca (Margaret Qualley). Their encounter should, according to Hal, be the last of its kind because his lifestyle does not allow such frolicking anymore. We see Hal submitting to Rebecca in a number of ways, most notably when she gets him to clean the hotel’s bathroom. We see the two rehearse their roleplay, going over it as one would their lines for a movie, coincidentally. When Hal tells Rebecca the bad news, she is infuriated and proceeds to blackmail Hal, saying she had filmed their sessions and would release them to the public. The dynamic between them spirals into a constant battle for power that tries to mimic their sexual agreement. The whole situation evolves in ways that are both amusing, nurturing, vulnerable and highly realistic, especially when an overflow of blood to the penis is involved, often resulting in poor choices. Realism is pointed out not because it should be a requirement in movies that tackle these themes, but because it is increasingly difficult to find movies that tackle these themes with a realistic approach. These dynamics of power and pleasure are very real and can lead to poor choices, as aforementioned. This not being a requirement, but a specification, should be granted the grace of reverence deserved, especially when any kind of capitalistic endeavor is superimposed onto it. Similarly, all-time-classic “Secretary” (2002) tries to hint at the possibilities within a power dynamic, albeit in a slightly outdated fashion, relying mostly on stereotypical tropes such as the “dominant lawyer” and his “submissive secretary” counterpart, which, again, feels more like a male fantasy than any kind of heartfelt and honest attempt at grasping the meaning of the words “dominant” and “submissive.” 

In fact, many (if not all) of these movies approach the topic of BDSM and general deviant sexuality (of any kind and not specific to two particular genders) as a prerogative familiar to all. Take Juha’s farcical first chance encounter with Mona, for example. Or perhaps the train scene in Nymphomaniac. You can Google that, surely. All these situations are somehow clouded by how seemingly innocuous and nearly banal all of this is portrayed, almost as if fostering a relationship with a dominatrix could happen to anyone, perhaps even by accident. This could not be further from the truth. What these movies omit from the plot – surely because of how dreadfully logistical and possibly boring it would make them – is the amount of communication that precedes these kinds of events, all the ramifications these kinds of desires have and how, often, awkward they present themselves in real life situations. These movies seem to never show things like showering and general hygiene, the care-talk after having done “unspeakable (the term is used in hyperbole and does not reflect the true nature of the acts, which ought to be quantified by those engaging in such acts and not the author of this text)  things to each other and how rare these types of connections actually are. “50 Shades Of Grey” made a whole generation believe that every man in his mid-thirties has an inclination for handcuffs and that women surely must love to be dominated, which could not be more false and conjected. Strangely, most of these movies seem to be made by people that have never even once, not even for research purposes, watched hardcore sado-masochistic pornography, meaning that the obvious outcome of such a ego-maniacal endeavor can only be the disrespect of a culture and practice that means a great deal to those engaging with it in their private lives. If you are already wandering down this rabbit hole, at least have the decency to go all out a la Pasolini and his (still) shocking “120 Days of Sodom” (1975). For all that has been said about that film, it ought to be credited with going all out on the “shock” element; something that “50 Shades..” seems to wrongfully imply but never deliver.  Sure, Pasolini being a healthy fan of practical effects prior to big developments in technology help the film adhere to a necessary kind of realism, but it is equally as true that Pasolini did not have to make that film. He wanted to make it, knowing how it would be received. It could also be argued that the film is so memorable because of how realistic it seems and how the perversion is shaped into something man made, something every audience member can point to and say, “Yes, I recognize those objects and those situations.”

One of the more believable portrayals of sexual deviancy can be found in Michael Haneke’s version of “The Piano Teacher” (2001), adapted from Jelinek’s eponymous book. In the movie, we follow the story of Erika Kohut, a successful and revered piano teacher, who seems to exhibit some cocktail of anti-social tendencies, paraphilia, and a taste of sadomasochism. We see her as a voyeur, barely even engaging in sexual activity with another person, until she meets Klemmer, her “love interest”. Kohut believes that Klemmer could finally be someone that might share her propensity for pleasure through pain and, in an unusually vulnerable scene, eventually opens up to him about how she would like to be treated in order for her to feel pleasure. She goes into great detail about how she would like to be physically hurt, only to be met with animosity from Klemmer, who goes as far as to call her desires a “sickness”. Not only is this a very possible reality, given that these practices are relatively uncommon in general, but also a perfect look at how at times, desire might not match reality. Haneke has no interest in educating his viewers, and thus does not, in true Haneke fashion, offer a silver lining in all of this. Instead, he aptly shows that the risk of universalizing sexual preferences can lead to deeply hurtful moments in which the perversion is not shared. Furthermore, the movie is an excellent study in power dynamics that does not adhere to the all-too-familiar setting of a man in a power position requesting to be spanked. Kohut exerts her power over her students and her mother (with whom she lives) and, in her free time, subjects herself to the power of other situations that would lead to arousal. With Klemmer, Kohut would like to relinquish her power, but as Klemmer refuses to be more aggressive with her, Kohut is reality checked by herclashing desires. We see her visibly distraught but unable to express any of this to anyone – or, since we seldom see her with anyone that would resemble a friend, more specifically, her mother – and we are even led to insinuate that there is some resentment in having opened up this much to someone, just for them to not share in or be positively responsive to these kinds of desires. All this is set to a backdrop of Vienna, a city wherein Kohut is secondary to the environment itself: we see her living a relatively solitary life, going into adult cinemas alone, and engaging with sexuality from afar. To some extent, it’s arguable that Kohut knows her condition to be, by comparison, depraved. However,  she is also deeply aware of the fact that she cannot change what she seems to like. In comparison, Juha’s character in “Dogs Don’t Wear Pants” still seems to be able to balance his day-to-day and be moderately sociable until he first meets Mona. Kohut’s reality is a far more tragic one; one in which the knowledge of the unchanging nature of one’s own desires, when unrequited, can lead to alienation from sexuality altogether. To say that “The Piano Teacher” is intently realistic seems like a tragic outset, especially because it seems to equate sadism and paraphilia to loneliness and a world of hurt – which does not need to be the case - but it is the most honest look at how things can go sideways pretty quickly when it comes to one’s innermost desires. 

All this being said, we ought to remember that these are still movies and not real life; a life in which the parameters for sexual deviancy are decided over time and don’t just appear out of thin air or, contrary to popular belief, out of Michael Fassbender staring at you on the subway (although we’d all surely like to see him try). One of the things that, unlike many other films, “Nymphomaniac” gets right is the fact that, oftentimes, there is no clear end goal in sexual perversion. It simply, is. It exists without a clear path laid out beforehand, like some other movies would make it out to be. There is no dramaturgy and no glamour. In fact, the contrary is more apt: sexual activity of any kind can be awkward, uncomfortable, silly, difficult, vulnerable. Expressing one’s needs can be as challenging as the act itself, if not more. Naturally, when requited, it can be all the things Hollywood presents it to be: exhilarating, heartfelt, passionate, and epiphanic, but all of this has to be earned through attentive listening and sharing. “Secretary”, especially the first half, presents the best-case scenario of two people having the same idea of what eroticism might look like for them, but that does not mean it should be the standard to which everything else is upheld. Nightclub culture, the rise of social media, and online dating has led us all to believe that every biped is oozing sexuality out of every fiber of their being, at all times of the day, but that is simply not the case. Sexuality, especially in the realm of kink, is something fluid, ebbing and flowing depending on one’s own predilection at any given time. Even if some more nuanced desires might seem, by comparison, more “odd” than others, they are still very much intimate and personal — not something everyone radiates at all times. 

Furthermore, sexual deviancy in the form of SM, bondage, and the like is not the search for collective decay for decay’s sake, but a journey in which the withering of the ego liberates the potential of personal growth through acts of severe corporeal extremes. The best – even if the “best” is still a rather unauthentic vignette, – example of this dichotomy is the end of “Dogs Don’t Wear Pants”, in which we see Juha “dressing the part” in leather harnesses with plenty of skin, entering what is made out to be a fetish-adjacent club that he was previously denied from. We see him still nervous, but by the time the drinks hit, Juha can be seen dancing away his worries surrounded by his newfound kinkiness. Although the consumption of alcohol coincides with the development of the scene and can give the impression that sexual liberation is is linked with intoxication, the scene does correctly portray the annihilation of the ego momentarily; the decay of the certitude of one's own place in the world, which should be treated more like the way in which we ought to think of sexuality – a fluid state of exploration – and less like a big, goal oriented cum-party. Under these parameters, parameters that encourage sexual extremism, decay becomes, paradoxically, its antonym.