Destricted

(Due to the 1000 word limit I've trimmed this review by over a third: apologies if some of the notes on films in this seven-film collection are therefore rather brief.)

Andy Warhol once said, "An artist is someone who produces things that people don't need to have but that he - for some reason - thinks it would be a good idea to give them." Destricted doesn't fit into convenient mainstream or even art-house niches, but is more like a Tate Modern exhibit. It would be hard to identify a 'market' for the film, yet it is undoubtedly of some merit.

Destricted is a collection of shorts linked by a common theme. Two of them are directed by acclaimed film directors and the other five are made by heavyweights (two of them women) from the world of contemporary art. All were invited to make films on their views of sex and pornography.

The films in Destricted are mostly iconographic or impersonal fabrications. They distil essential elements into images that remain long after they are viewed. Each uses different artistic techniques, and each is worthy of serious study - although cinema audiences' reactions may also include boredom and amusement.

The most accessible section of the film (and the most linear in format) is Impaled by Larry Clark. Clark examines the effect pornography has on youngsters, but his film goes further, looking at the human dynamics and insecurities of the porn industry and making a porn film. He interviews young male pornstar wannabees, in discussions that are almost like a shrink session, asking them about their sexual experience, preferences and use of pornography. One of them is a virgin. Many have quite understandable hang-ups about their bodies. Asked what sort of things they would like to do, they all express an interest in anal sex. When they undress, nearly all of them are shaved. These last two characteristics, although only evinced by a minority of the general population, are frequently the norm in pornographic films. The female porn actors interviewed are shown as human and genuinely sensual (unlike the way they are portrayed in porn films), although their comfortable attitude to sexuality threatens to bring out more of the guys' insecurities (a theme that was also explored well in Breillat's Sex is Comedy). The girls prove mostly adept at putting the young man at ease however and he selects the oldest of them (40yrs) to be his 'co-star'. Clark avoids the pitfall of making the film funny or sterile or missing the eventual sex scene. The result is a documentary about porn that is also seamlessly pornographic.

The sense of dislocation is felt even more strongly in House Call by Richard Prince (a twelve minute section). Almost an homage to a golden age of porn, Prince takes the naughty doctor-patient fantasy stereotype but reprocesses his film until the image quality is overrun with graininess and bad lighting. To this, he adds jangling, futuristic music so that, even though the images are very explicit, we are reduced to observing them in a distant, dispassionate way.

Hoist, the fifteen minute contribution by artist Matthew Barney, will be no surprise to fans of his acclaimed Cremaster Cycle. Barney develops cryptic, intricate symbols that draw you in to their artistry long before you decipher them, whether in Freudian or any other terms. He is a very visual artist and can be extremely unsettling, perhaps in the way Dali is. At the start of Hoist, we are not sure what we are looking at. It could be a slug. Very slowly it grows, like a painting that slowly changes. Gradually we become aware that it is in reality something very different to what we had expected. It is a human penis. The ultimate, dystopian contrast occurs in an onanistic union with a deforestation machine.

Balkan Erotic Epic by Marina Abramov is thirteen minutes of amusing but quite instructional scenes re-enacting ancient sexual rites for fertility, warding off evil and the like. It also provides some of the most memorable images, such as the bare-breasted woman repeatedly clutching a skull to her chest in the closing credits. One of the scenes - where men are seen from above, lying face down and copulating with the earth itself, is reminiscent of the work of the photographer Spencer Tunick who stages vast public gatherings of naked people around the world.

Sync by Marco Brambilla is the shortest contribution at less than 2 minutes. Brambilla uses sensory overload in the form of clips, each no more than a few frames in length, from typical hard core features. The resulting choreographed collage (set to loud drum music) is like being hit over the head with Dante-esquire force by images that once would have appeared sexual or arousing.

Death Valley by Sam Taylor-Wood is eight minutes long and puts a Marlboro man type character in one of the hottest infertile places in the world where he 'spills his seed'. Taylor-Wood's work often has the human figure isolated on film, as if she views the body in its most revealing moments as a work of art in itself. Death Valley conveys the loneliness and stigma attached to self-stimulation and is uncomfortable, almost homo-erotic viewing.

Gaspar Noé provides one of the longer segments with We F*ck Alone at 23 minutes. As with his earlier Irreversible, he uses strobes and a heartbeat-like thumping background score to create sensory disorientation. At one point a man puts a gun in sex-toy doll's mouth as he copulates with it. The scene maybe suggests the danger of sexual repression symbolised by solitary pleasure - if the psyche is unable to negotiate normal sexual relations with another person it tends towards force and a desire for dominance. The title is a play on the title of the director's first feature film, I Stand Alone (Seul Contre Tous), a controversial story about despair and loneliness and the resulting sexual pathology.

Although i'm trying very hard, i can remember only three segments of the movie. This fact alone might give you an overall impression, despite the fact that i was mainly interested in their authors.

Marina Abramovic offered a pseudo-ethnographic study about the relation between sex and language, in particular bad language, in the Balkans. The result is a literal translation of curses into English. Try the same thing in a bar with friends and you'll get a couple of laughs, but no-one would call it art.

Matthew Barney was on the trail of his Cremaster series, with less costumes and plain mise-en-scène, though. What happened on screen was at the same time obvious and difficult to explain. In line with modern art where the act (masturbation) precedes the context (if any), it leaves you to read-in the meaning you might associate with it.

Larry Clark, on the other hand, made an audition for a porn movie. Due to it's sheer realism, this segment was the only one to make sense, but left me wondering why should i watch it instead of browsing the internet for free porn.

Art aficionados, in particular those into modern art, will probably love Destricted. Others would have other films to watch...

I came across Destricted via an interest in the films of Matthew Barney, most of which I have seen and enjoyed. What I discovered was an extremely mixed bag of films. Through from the ersatz-revelatory documentary of Larry Clark to Richard Prince's House Call, which is quite literally in my opinion, the porn equivalent of Meshes of the Afternoon (whether or not that's a good idea or not is another matter). I've rated the whole movie 6/10 but we're really moving from 1/10 to 10/10 during different segments.

I felt Marina Abramovic's segment "Balkan Erotic Epic" contained some sort of interest, but it felt more like an alternative school history lesson, and lacked any sort of cinematic virtuosity. Simply put the film is about Balkan sex superstitions of the past.

Sam Taylor-Wood's segment is quite simply a man masturbating in Death Valley, what is up with that? I'm sure something was going on for Sam but she quite simply left me almost devoid of context.

Matthew Barney film about a man (The Greenman) 'using' (I am not allowed to write the appropriate word due to the comment guidelines) the drive-shaft of a massive suspended truck is interesting more in concept than in adaptation for the screen where it becomes merely pornographic rather than a thesis on sexual energy. To be fair it's also ripped from the womb of Barney's film De Lama Lamina and is so out of context here that it makes little sense. The driveshaft was lubricated with the faeces of a golden lion tamarin. Those of a nervous disposition stay away!

Marco Brambilla's very short piece was entirely devoid of interest to me, a flutter-by of pastel-coloured porno shots. Perhaps he achieved entirely what he aimed for. It was not exactly engaging. Quite astonishingly this is the guy who directed Demolition Man.

Gaspar Noe's section 'We **** Alone' was perhaps the most interesting of all the films, sex in this piece seem like an adjunct of solipsism (if you want to take each of the individuals involved as masturbators then you can, but for me they are having sex, it's just that we are being shown a visual metaphor of that process, which Noe sees as narcissistic; indeed if you accept the duality then the film is quite potent). He makes the film both numbing and alluring through his use of strobe effects and his soundtrack of heartbeats, breathing, and a baby eerily crying. It's clear that he is also passing a judgement, artistically and politically, which I don't think any of the others achieved (although they may have attempted), specifically with his use of match-cutting with TV porn when he's showing the man.

With Richard Prince's 'House Call' we have another film that is sonically intriguing. The material is almost certainly found footage. But his added value is the way he manipulates it with sounds, in an astounding manner. The story of a woman having sex with a house-visiting doctor becomes psychosexual rather than merely pornographic.

I wouldn't recommend Destricted to anyone I know, because it is extremely sexually graphic and people I know would think I was a weirdo if I started talking to them about it. But if what I've said has piqued your interest, see it by all means.

Certainly politically correct, that is a danger sign in any film. Politically correct by focusing mostly on men and porn. This film was almost just like any other porn film. The tiny difference being the "art". Strobe light was the "art" in We f...ck alone (it was way too long. I got the "message" after 5 minutes). The "art" in Death Valley was none what so ever. Just a guy masturbating outdoors. I read on IMDb that the "art" was the fact it was shot in that particular valley. If you use your imagination, you can see art in everything. That is wonderful. Hoist was least like a porn, but 15 minutes of a man rubbing his penis to a machine shaft was OK ("art" and everything) for 5 minutes. In the film Impaled we saw the audition room instead of the "bed". It was amusing to see the young guys expressing their sexual desires. The "art" in Impaled was the bad lighting. I would have chosen the virgin. I went to the film expecting nothing, and I got nothing. A man cannot ask for more on a night at the movies.

Destricted - an experimental collection of shorts by artists and film-makers exploring the subjects of sex, sexuality and pornography - didn't cause as much of a fuss as the creatives behind it were probably hoping for upon its release in 2006. While this is one of the most extreme films ever to be passed by the BBFC, it had to resort to an exploitative tactic when released on DVD by wrapping the box in a black seal as if what was inside was too explicit to be seen by anyone passing the art-house section of their local HMV. Truth be told, Destricted is no more shocking than late-night Babestation, and probably has just as much to say on our attitudes to sex.

The UK release featured a different line-up of films to the one released in the US, so I'll point out that I'm reviewing the UK version, which consists of seven shorts, the longest being 38 minutes and the shortest just over 2. I started with Larry Clark's Impaled, possible the most interesting film of the bunch. Clark interviews a roster of 18-23 year old males for a porn movie, and asks them about their sexual preferences. In an age where porn is readily available to anybody, it comes as no surprise that the interviewees prefer rough sex and ejaculating onto their partner's face. Shrewdly, Clark chooses the most softly-spoken and sweetest of the bunch, Daniel, who chooses older porn star Nancy to be his on- screen partner. Watching Nancy eat him alive has a strange poignancy to it.

Next up I saw Marina Abramovic's Balkan Erotic Epic, a strange and genuinely funny tale of pagan rituals told by the stern-looking Abramovic who struggles to speak English. The sight of naked men humping the ground and a group of women dancing and occasionally exposing their genitalia in the rain is bizarre and almost Pythonesque, and certainly raised my mood despite how cheap it looked. Richard Prince's House Call is a 13 minute re- contextualisation of an old porn scene, in which a busty young woman is visited by a well-hung doctor, who proceed to have ugly, hairy sex in a pleasantly aggression-free manner. Prince adds an eerie soundtrack and distorts the colour so much that the sexual organs on show looks like disgusting, slug-like creatures.

Marco Brambilla's Sync is a relief at just over 2 minutes, rapidly editing together hundreds of porn scenes to a drum-solo score. It's an interesting experiment, reminding us of the repetitive and formulaic nature of porn. Strangest of all the films on show is Matthew Barney's Hoist, which places a black actor with a gourd up his a**e underneath a five-ton struck, who proceeds to rub his erect penis on the lubricated drive-shaft of the vehicle. It is supposed to be a commentary on primitive man's relationship with machinery, but at almost 15 minutes long, it long outstays its welcome. By this point, I had seen enough flatulent and erect penises to last me a lifetime, which made the next film all the more painful. Sam Taylor- Wood's (now Taylor-Johnson) Death Valley has a man masturbate alone in the desert. For eight incredibly long minutes.

While I thought I was saving the best for last, I was actually saving the worst. Gaspar Noe's We F**k Alone feels like the cinematic equivalent of the director telling us that he's had a shitty day. Shot Irreversible-style and complete with constant strobe effects, the film has a man and a woman masturbate to same porn movie in two separate rooms. One enjoys a oversized teddy bear while the other face-f***s a blow-up doll with a gun. It's a terrible, hateful, and utterly pointless exercise, which, much like Destricted as a whole, has nothing interesting to say about sex and pornography. Porn can be formulaic, seedy, expressive and shamefully titillating. But anybody who has ever masturbated before will surely know this already, and won't have to put themselves through almost two hours of arty nonsense to come to this realisation.