Showing posts with label The Year Of The Sex Olympics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Year Of The Sex Olympics. Show all posts

Monday, 23 September 2013

Sex Box: Ban This Opaque Filth!

A new television show will feature couples having sex in a sound-proofed box in a television studio with audience and then being interviewed about it afterwards.
Three couples, two straight and one gay, will take turns to step into the opaque box before being quizzed about what they got up to by host Mariella Frostrup and a panel of sex experts.
Makers of the show, called Sex Box, claim that the programme, which will air on Channel 4, is intended to 'reclaim sex from pornography'.

The first couple to use the 'sex box' for the pre-recorded, hour-long show, which will air on October 7, is 20-somethings Rachel and Dean. They will be followed by Matt and John, who are in a long-term relationship, and childhood sweethearts Lynette and Des.
The couples, whose time in the box will not be filmed, will speak to a panel including television sex expert Tracey Cox, relationship expert Dan Savage, and psychotherapist and author Phillip Hodson.
Cox said: 'The Box itself is a unique way to get peoples' attention and to recognise that sex is a normal part of all our lives and something we need to be talking about openly and honestly.'

Daily Mail.

It says something - and is a more than a bit worrying - that the Mail reports this news so matter-of-factly, when it's bringing out Fagburn's inner Mary Whitehouse.
If Sex Box helps British people stop being quite so prudish and hung-up and fucked-up about sex, great.
But Fagburn suspects the thinking behind commissioning this was not to help the nation shake off its sexual chains, and begin the long walk to erotic freedom.
It's more that they know people - lots of people - will watch it just because they hope to see some shagging (albeit opaquely).*
It's more of a sign of our continuing collective sexual repression and alienation, than liberation, what Herbert Marcuse called repressive desublimation.
There is something seriously wrong with a country where sex induces infinitely more embarrassed giggles than it does orgasms.
Remember when the "public service broadcaster" Channel 4 used to show silly fluff in this timeslot like docudramas about Gramsci?
Or, as it would doubtless have to be pitched today, Prison Confessions Of A Red Sardinian Sex Dwarf.

Still above from The Year Of The Sex Olympics, a 1968 BBC TV film.

In a future Britain, the appetites and passions of the masses are controlled by television, with a constant stream of pornography regulating sexual desire. When audiences show signs of boredom, the 'high drive' broadcasters must find new methods to engage them...

BFI Screen Online - watch it here.

* It's hard to tell from Channel 4's preview exactly what the viewer will see; "While the talk is intimate, the couples' love-making is hidden from view, taking place in a private area where nobody but them can see what's going on: inside the Sex Box."
Presumably you will get glimpses of thrusting shadows in the opaque box, otherwise what's the point of it, when they might as well be shagging backstage or in a bedroom?

Saturday, 3 November 2012

2012: The Year Of The Sex Olympics

You can clearly say anything you want now.
Ironically, this was alleged to have happened during the recording of the play, The Year Of The Sex Olympics.

Now regarded as one of the 1960s' most effective and engaging one-off pieces of science fiction, the play is chiefly remembered for the prescience of the scenarios it develops. Most obviously, the play's characters devise a television programme called 'The Live Life Show' in which a group of people is separated from society. The ensuing struggle to adapt to new surroundings is broadcast live, with the viewing public's voyeuristic pleasure heightened by the problems participants endure. Both the template for this fictitious entertainment and the audience's rapt reaction seem to presage the proliferation of 'reality' television in the 1990s... Similarly, the 'dumbing down', 'sexing up' and sheer predominance of television appear to have been predicted by Kneale's play. (BFI).

Dumbing down and sexing up as weapons of mass distraction?
Can't happen here!
Let prurient sex hysteria rule the day.
And hurrah for repressive desublimation!

PS You can watch the incredibly prescient, The Year Of The Sex Olympics here.
"I remember the old slogan; fight fire with fire, sex with sex. Now they've dowsed it, dowsed it with this..."
Though one thing it didn't predict was its flipside; voyeuristic, salacious and hypocritical tabloid witch hunts...

Thursday, 18 August 2011

Celebrity Big Brother: Now With Added Shagging!

Now I don't care about you, but Fagburn is RIPPED about the other big news story today - the return of (Celebrity) Big Brother TONIGHT!
Even though I don't own a telly and can't even be arsed to see if you can watch anything on Channel 5 on the internet, I am so fucking excited about this.
The new series also sees another welcome return to our screens - that of Brian Dowling; star of ITV Play's late night interactive gambling-based phone-in show, The Mint.
Leading CBB fanzine The Daily Star spoke for many when they squawked;
"WHAT a coup it was getting Brian Dowling to present the new Big Brother.
"Who better to host the revamped version of everyone’s favourite show?"
Apart from Davina McCall, obviously?
Brian was on the tellybox as recently as last year, when he won the last Celebrity Big Brother.
Then it was cancelled cause no-one was watching and it had started to look even shitter and sadder than before.
And - AND - it's ten years almost to the year since Brian won Big Brother.
Ah, god bless the bubbly/camp/outrageous/gay/Irish/fat/former air steward, 32.
As I type, the Twittersphere is LITERALLY ABLAZE with rumours about who will be the celebrities on Celebrity Big Brother?
Jedward? Sally Bercow?? Bobby Brown??? Pippa Middleton??? Gore Vidal????
It's gonna be one heck of a show - especially now it's being brought to the nation by wank-enabler-in-chief Richard Desmond.
If the pre-publicity is to be believed we are guaranteed to get to see some of these C-List celebs fucking like wild drunken dogs - LIVE ON TV!!!
So we've moved on from Orwell's 1984, and into The Year Of The Sex Olympics.
And that - my friends - is called fucking progress!