Flesh

The first film in the Paul Morrissey trilogy, Flesh, tells the story of a male hustler Joe who lives with his lesbian wife Geri. Joe also has a son, whom we see Joe feeding a muffin to very early on in the film. Geri, in the opening scenes of the film, forces Joe out onto the streets so that he can obtain money to pay for her girlfriend's abortion. The film details the various deformed, twisted, perverted, and addicted people that he is forced to deal with (and sleep with) on a daily basis. In the end, Joe is left feeling drained, warped, and vulnerable to every perversion, and the audience is forced to confront the provocative nature of what it is truly like to be comfortable and happy in one's own flesh.

This film is a revelation, and I think it's one of the best and most emotionally raw films of the 60s. It has nothing to do with the quality of the film itself, but rather the imagery it summons and the way it presents itself. This is not a good quality film for those who are just looking for a film to watch. This is the sort of film that you need to allow yourself to be emotionally invested in before you make any calls on what it is. To be frank, it's very tough to describe what the film is exactly. It's a very unorthodox film. As a matter of fact, the subject matter of the film, the camera-work, the performances, and the dialogue in this film are all very unorthodox. This film wasn't intended to exactly be viewed as a film, but rather to bring about a world that the audience can witness and get involved with in an emotional sense. I thought that, despite the crap quality, Morrissey was seriously onto something here. As a film, it obviously isn't that good, but as an exploration of sexuality and of emotional disconnection, it's a serious pleasure to watch. It is funny, unusual, sad, and incredibly sweet. It's probably the most erotic film about hustling I have seen, as well as the most tastefully innocent.

I have neglected to highlight what helps the film really come together. That is Joe Dallesandro. This man has a body unlike anything I have ever seen, and a face of completely unpardonable beauty. What makes this film so deeply frightening in a way is his naive and gentle nature, and as a result we don't feel any internal fear from looking at the images but rather a sense of helpless fear. When you watch the film it becomes more and more clear that Joe has lost whatever wisdom and whatever ideas of security he has, and yet he has changed as a man because of it. If anything it has allowed him to revert to a state of abused self-confidence that really make what happens to him over the course of the film a lot more interesting.

Joe Dallesandro is naked throughout about 80% of the film, but this obviously isn't done to titillate or to be shocking or risqué, but rather for the viewer to drop whatever preconceptions they have about seeing the male body and just accept it as part of the character's personal self doubts being put out and left in the open. The viewer no longer feels like a voyeur, and instead feels closer to the subject of the film. This is one of the least brave things that the film does, and yet when it ends it is the one thing that I thought about the most. This film likely has more male nudity in it than any other film ever made, and yet it's impossible to feel dirty or perverted as a result. Instead, we feel rather taken aback by the style and editing of the film(or the lack thereof), which is strictly amateur and impossibly inept. This is how we come into the film, and it is because of Joe Dallesandro that we leave the picture feeling that we didn't just watch what was merely a film made by a bunch of yuppies, nerds, and junkies.

Ultimately, the film is definitely not for everyone. It will be impossible for some folks to accept the fact that the film is as poor quality and as badly made as it is. It will also be impossible for many folks to appreciate the fact that someone as seemingly sweet as Joe Dallesandro is so fearless and so ready and eager to completely put himself into constant vulnerable positions, both emotionally and physically. Flesh is STRICTLY for people who have a desire to be emotionally and visually involved in a film that digs into the darker and more repulsive aspects of the streets of New York, and refuses to place any sort of judgment. Forget that the film is about a miserable man who prefers to use himself endless to further add to the desecration of the lives of the people around him and concentrate on the humorous, horrible, and varied imagery. This film doesn't have much to say, but damn does it leave you feeling raw. Very few films have this much honesty in their imagery, and even fewer of them are nonjudgmental.

Although the film opens with the credit "Andy Warhol Presents", it was actually written, photographed and directed by cult film-maker Paul Morrissey (according to Morrissey, all Warhol provided was money and publicity).

Joe Dallesandro (immortalised as "little Joe" in the Velvet Underground song "Walk on the Wild Side") plays Joe, a slightly dim-witted male prostitute, who is supporting his bisexual wife and baby. His wife wants him to come up with $200 for her girlfriend's abortion. We basically follow Joe around as he encounters various characters willing to help him, including an artist who wants to pay him to pose nude, and Warhol "superstars" Candy darling and Jackie Curtis.

Despite being amateurishly shot, with countless technical errors, the most annoying of which is a very badly-recorded soundtrack, the film is fascinating due to it's delving into a world rarely seen on mainstream screens, which probably doesn't exist anymore. Although many scenes do go on for too long, it's too startling to be dull. Fans of Joe Dallesandro will no doubt enjoy his frequent exposure (he provides most of the flesh of the title).

If you're a fan of cult or underground films, you'll not want to miss this. It was followed by "Trash" (1970) and "Heat" (1972) to form a loose trilogy.

Flesh is the first film of a trilogy by Paul Morrissey and Andy Warhol, and is perhaps the first attempt to create an icon of desire out of a male leading role. Although the film is focused on an uncomplicated character development of Joe (Joe Dallesandro), a gentle and subtly unhappy hustler, it depicts him as a passive and ambivalent object, who, in spite of a semi-evident sense of self-control, is possessed, shaped, and evaluated entirely by others. Joe is a young and somewhat naive Adonis who exudes comfort and beauty in his independence, but he works the streets to support his lesbian wife and her girlfriend. He is restlessly bored by an artist/customer's speeches on Greek athletic sculpture and 'body worship', but he sells his nudity anyway. He regards the increasing advances of his homosexual friend with ambivalence, but lets them happen nonetheless. This passivity dominates the film and succeeds in creating a visceral element to Dallesandro's appeal: not only is he desired, he is had.

Perhaps the film's most interesting element is the balance of its obviously experimental nature with its palpable directness. The snappy editing and fragmented dialogue make it fresh and 'real', yet it manages not to rely on the clichéd abstractness of art-films. It is rough, and indeed a weaker effort than Trash or Heat, but nonetheless presents a collection of perfectly plausible characters in a light of almost absolute neutrality.

I guess only a selected number of audience members really had any interest in watching how a male hustler in New York operates but I'd be willing to bet that even these brave souls were turned off by the irritating patchwork technique and deliberately muffled sound recording on display here; the fact that these inherent 'defects' were a direct result of the film's low-budget/underground/experimental nature is, I'd say, beside the point. Anyway, for those so inclined, the film features extensive male nudity and Joe Dallesandro, understandably, became an underground – and gay – icon!

The episodic structure showing the day-to-day routine of the hustler protagonist offers a couple of mildly interesting scenes: his meeting with (and eventually posing for) an eccentric elderly artist; the one where Dallesandro expresses his views on his unusual line of work and delineates his particular modus operandi to a couple of prospective 'colleagues' including perhaps the unlikeliest of hustlers – a bespectacled nerd! Perhaps mercifully, the film ran for only 89 minutes against the IMDb's claim that its complete length is 105 (but the latter could well be a mistake)!

I had watched a few other of Warhol's 'movies' and this one is decidedly not as satisfying as the most tolerable example I've run into yet, BAD (1977), and only slightly better than the likes of MY HUSTLER (1965) which were mostly a strain to sit through. The fact that this was only the first part of a trilogy did not augur well but, as the saying goes, you gotta to do what you gotta do and the other two 'chapters' had to follow in quick succession...

Despite my generally negative reaction to it, FLESH is nevertheless still valuable as a 1960s time capsule and as a prototype of the Underground scene of that era, both cinematically and in real life. For the record, an image of Dallesandro from this film adorns the sleeve of The Smiths' self-titled 1984 debut album and transsexual Candy Darling (who appears here rather unremarkably) was immortalized in "Candy Says", the opening track of The Velvet Underground's eponymous 1969 album. Although the latter band is my all-time favorite, and one of the reasons for this is that, through their sheerly unique and ground-breaking music, they described a lifestyle so utterly different from my own, this is truly a case where I'd much rather experience something aurally instead of visually!

It seems inhumane to describe someone as a work of art but in the Warhol

Art Sphere there seems little other way to describe Joe Dallesandro in

"Flesh". His body is displayed constantly in the nude, more consistently

naked than any other actor I can think of in American film history.

Warhol/Morrissey (the authorship of the movie remains contentious though

Morrisey is the credited director, the film rides under the "Andy

Warhol's" banner) objectify and expose every part of Dallesandro's

hustler in the film. He was truly the first sex symbol of the 70s. It

was only in "Flesh" he was so un-self-conscious and innocent though

always with survivalist and self-serving cunning. Joe (the character) is

an interesting kafka-esque (unable to control the world around oneself,

prone to the ebb and flow of circumstance and external control) figure

in the midst of a collage of underground culture figures of the 60s from

drag artistes to quivering tricks. Its a high camp affair at times but

Morrissey has a loving camera when it comes to Joe. Joe's beauty is

vividly captured and the fly-on-the-wall style story of a day in his

life remains engaging a