Here are a few remarks I made in response to a post on RAFrenzy’s blog a year or so ago, when the topic was about his fame and the fandom that goes with it. Saved them because I thought they could be used as basis for posts here, which hasn’t really happened. Since I’m currently writing up a review of Between the Sheets, I thought this should be posted beforehand. So here goes:
|Picture from An RA viewer’s perspective from 33°0’S of the equator,
found through Google
I’ve not actually seen Between the Sheets yet even though I have it (*waves toward the DVD shelf*) but I’ve seen the non-explicit scenes on YouTube and once, when I googled with SafeSearch switched off, came across a blog which offered not just pictures but a short clip. To which my reaction was an “Oh. My. GODS!” with several meanings. Fascination and appreciation mixed with embarrassment and partial disgust, sprinkled with fangirly squees over when he says “lie down” and gives that irresistible wry smile that would easily floor anyone. Yes, the man has some nice peaches and he looks like he knows how to give a girl a good time – but I don’t REALLY actually want to see it, if you know what I mean? That sort of thing just felt too … private. Not like the shagging Lucas got up to with Sarah, because that wasn’t graphic, so didn’t bother me.
The Between the Sheets clips felt too much like prying into his personal affairs – I mean, ffs, we were right in “his” bedroom! I love the body-watching normally, but perhaps because it is just admiring from afar, so to speak, because we can get really close but never actually get TOO close. Porter stripping down in prison? Not a problem, bring it on! (Along with a bucket of ice water.) Lucas changing into a boiler suit? Helloooooooo nurse. Paul gettin’ the freak on – in detail – with his missus? Felt more like trespassing than anything else.
An interesting mix of emotions watching it, anyway. Don’t know whether to laugh or cry, sort of thing. Just … “woah, that I did NOT need to see!” I wonder what it would have been like if it was another actor; one which I don’t particularly care about. I don’t think it would’ve been the same. Sure, embarrassment would probably still be there (“oh crikey, they’re going at it like rabbits, aren’t they? Ah-ha-ha”) but would it BOTHER me in the way that this does? I don’t think so. Not in the same way.
Now, I’ve heard the rules for what you can and can’t show on telly on this country, even if it’s made by ITV, so I think it’s safe to assume we don’t actually get to see any actual … bits. Which is a huge relief, because that would really be a step too far. The only reason I would “want” to see, err, his bits would be if I was a) his partner or b) his doctor. (His mum would’ve seen it when he was a child, but oh goodness, if it had been me, I would’ve said “you might want to give this one a miss, mum” or record it on a DVR and give her a censored version!) Anything else is just not cricket.
Seen from another perspective, maybe it’s because seeing him do something profoundly human (or at least pretend to) makes him too real and I want to keep him as a sort of fantasy. The idea of the Perfect Man, embodied by him. And seeing him simulating sex on camera takes away the mystery, makes the immortal god into a mere mortal, and that’s not in line with the fantasy ideal, so to speak. Or for that matter, it doesn’t leave anything to the imagination, and the imagination is normally a lot sexier than reality. (Unless you’re Connie Chatterley. Her imagination, or rather, her thoughts, tend to be rather depressing. Good book, though.)
Or maybe I’m just a prude. A prude with a dreadfully dirty mind, but a prude nonetheless. 😉