For Dancers, award-winning filmmaker Antonio Da Silva shot 35 Portuguese dancers undressing—many with erections—and moving their bodies. This is considered an actual movie. You can watch a (Work Unfriendly) snippet here.
Da Silva says:
“Thirty-five Portuguese dancers undress in front of the camera. They become the object of desire with a sensual provocative performance. Eclectic dance disciplines help this film to explore an exhibitionist view of the male nude.
“This is a statement about the current financial situation in Portugal and the lack of fundings to support artistic initiatives. All contributions from this film will be given to the participants of DANCERS film, to encourage and inspire them, for them to give you one more private dance! These artists are not afraid to challenge the general thinking about male nudity and they showcase the potential of creative Portuguese performance arts.
“After all, the penis also can dance!”
Yes, some penises can dance like Rose in that Golden Girls episode.
I'm quite sure that most white, gay men who read this will react bitterly, denounce her, say she's the one who's a racist, etc. Maybe some will unwittingly prove one of her points by re-tweeting it with a big ol', “Oh, no she din't!”
But here's my take: I totally get what she's saying in some of this piece, even if it is unnecessarily angry—and it is unnecessarily angry.
(Be angry about racial inequities—that makes sense. But why so vitriolic against people who are, at worst, being a little condescending or presumptuous? They're not your enemies, unless you think gay, white men are de facto enemies. Unfortunately, Mannie's piece comes off as homophobic when she uses the tired old complaint that comes from many anti-gay black separatists: “The difference is that the black women with whom you think you align so well, whose language you use and stereotypical mannerisms you adopt, cannot hide their blackness and womanhood to protect themselves the way that you can hide your homosexuality. We have no place to hide, or means to do it even if we desired them.” Lots of gay people do hide their sexuality, but don't kid yourself, Ms. Mannie, if black people could do the same, the same percentage of black people would do it. That's because all people, across the board, are just as susceptible to fear, self-doubt and weakness.)
I, too, think it's really embarrassing and uncomfortable when I see white, gay guys approach a black girl they don't even know and immediately put on a hey, girl act. It's the modern-day equivalent of rubbing her head for luck, guys, and it's definitely something I can see being an irritant.
Alarmingly beautiful Ohioan Diane McBain (b. May 18, 1941), whose early life had been filled with financial hardship, quickly became identified as a star-in-the-making while under contract to Warner Brothers in the late '50s. Cast as a flighty heiress on the whimsical and briefly but intensely popular TV series Surfside 6 (1960—1962), she got a taste of what it might be like if all those breathless predictions swirling around her (“Another Marilyn Monroe!”) actually came true—special treatment, glamorous work with cute boys, the opportunity to launch a proper film career.
Her biggest break came when she landed the title role in the steamy Claudelle Inglish (1961), in which she plays a good girl who refuses to marry a well-off man [Claude Akins (May 25, 1926—January 27, 1994)] for security because she's in love with a handsome young beau [Chad Everett (June 11, 1937—July 24, 2012)]...and who then purposefully sabotages her own future.
Michael Musto says:
“Rebelling against all sorts of societal strictures and demands, 'Claudelle' acts up and becomes the town slut, raising eyebrows with every calculated skirt lift. In the wonderfully trashy role, McBain is fiery, seething, bitter and gloriously fun—a fave of my longtime movie club.”
Yes, it's as good as it sounds.
But in spite of her natural effervescence on screen and a penchant for getting herself into gossip columns without even trying, McBain didn't attain lasting household-name status. Instead, hers is the story of a starry-eyed kid whose past experience with struggling to make ends meet prepared her for a long stretch as a hard-working actress with many memorable encounters but with no guarantee from where her next job might come.
Now 73 (and as lovely as ever), McBain has released Famous Enough: A Hollywood Memoir (BearManor, $29.95), a compulsively readable autobiography in which she does all the things any good memoirist should: She relies on and credits a great co-author (Michael Michaud, whose Sal Mineo: A Biography is one of the best bios I've ever read); she views everything that ever happened to her through a clear-eyed, analytical lens; she imparts wisdom where she can and doesn't pretend to where she can not; and she calls 'em like she sees 'em when it comes to describing the people who've crossed her and/or crossed her path.
I was pleased to interview this resilient, relatable woman—she's so much more than her work. (But even if she were only her work, I mean...Claudelle Inglish!)
Boy Culture: What motivated you to write a book at this point in your life?
Diane McBain: People have suggested I write my memoirs for a very long time. For years, I couldn't think of why I would write my story because my career wasn't the kind of career I wanted, and why belabor the point? Finally, I settled on the theme—actually, I was inspired by the idea—that my life had more to do with a spiritual journey than a material one, so that became my concentration. That was all I needed to get started.