#36: sex, lies and videotape (1989) (dir. Steven Soderbergh)

It’s appropriate to finally release my latest essay on World Mental Health Day. There’s a reason this has taken a little while to write. At the same time, the arts are the best therapy that exists - even better than talk therapy or medication. I guess it’s best to not bury the lead in saying that I experience what Graham does in Steven Soderbergh’s masterful sex, lies and videotape. Perhaps in my early 20s, it was less of an issue but suffice to say, physical intimacy is challenging. Even with someone I am attracted to or feel love for, I have trouble. I envy those who can jump right in and get comfortable without hesitation.

I try to avoid lying now as much as possible. There was a time when I would openly lie to the point of getting caught quite often. Not sure why. It was an impulsive act most of the time but other times, I didn’t feel like being honest. One amusing (in hindsight) incident comes to mind in that I told the drummer of my band that I had to help my dad around the house instead of going to practice that day. My other friend and I went to the movies instead and guess who also showed up there to catch me in the lie. There were certainly times as a child that didn't sit well with me either in which an authority figure would soon find out I was not being completely honest. 

Videotape - well, obviously I was a home video enthusiast in taping a lot of events or even making home videos with friends. I never recorded any sexual acts outside of taping porn courtesy of our cheater box. But I had a massive collection of VHS tapes and homemade “mix tapes” of favorite films, TV shows, skits, and MTV videos. Honestly, I always wanted to record interviews the way Graham does - like a therapy session captured and preserved.

So there’s a lot of vested interest in Steven Soderbergh’s debut film to where I can’t help but experience more than just an entertaining diversion here. As I’m getting older, I’m realizing that some movies play like alternate realities of my own life. I look different, interact with different people, but the emotions and circumstances are similar to the point of discomfort (in a good way).

Everybody filters this movie through the prism of a groundbreaking Sundance success story that launched a career of a filmmaker whose work I always look forward to. That’s certainly what it is but for me, it is as close to watching an onscreen therapy session as one could get. Plus, I know exactly where Graham and Cynthia are coming from, when it comes to sex. Not only their openness in discussing it with someone they have a connection towards but the fact that they struggle to pursue it in the same way that the majority of society feels is “normal.”

There's a moment in the wry, thoughtful, insightful film sex, lies and videotape where characters are breaking down their confusion about something that's getting in between them. It involves a man (who mainly dresses in black) prying into the intimate lives of those he can't actually be intimate with himself. The moment ends with the characters saying, "Things are getting too complicated," and the other replies with "No, they're getting too simple." One example of character contrast that cuts it down to the core, while being direct. This movie is simple in its thesis, to the point where I wonder if people would shun or roll their eyes at how white clothing is contrasted with black clothing in many instances. The thesis itself says volumes about human nature and interpersonal intimacy, in a way that may not click with everyone, but it sure has for me. Most films can never be too “talky” for me. Especially when the conversation and ideas are so rich. Plus, I love to listen. It’s partially why I almost became a therapist. I wanted a career where I would do less of the talking and more of the listening in hopes of helping others come to a conclusion on their own.

This film is so rich with ideas that mean a lot and also seem to reflect our technology-driven times more than ever. Steven Soderbergh's debut independent film received a lot of acclaim upon release. My earliest memory of it from when I was 12 years old was seeing a trailer for it on Pay-Per-View, and it was advertised as this erotic, provocative, adult-themed movie that I knew my parents would murder me for watching it. I actually didn't see it for the first time until I was 20 years old, and then again, several years ago for my podcast. This most recent and fourth viewing has cemented it as a favorite movie for a myriad of reasons. For one, it reflects my unease with technology, all the while embracing it. Same could be true with sexuality to a degree - there’s a strange unease (body dysmorphia plays a role) but I also actively want to embrace the sheer joy of fearless abandon.

The video camera in the movie could easily be Facebook or any form of social media that exists today. We filter what we want to see and "like" as an easier form of connecting that doesn't require actual face-to-face communication. sex, lies and videotape is all about communication -- the breakdown of it, the eroticism of words and secrets, the need for deep connection, and personal denial due to self-loathing that leads to incessant talking instead of active listening. As much as I love social media, I don't get personal context the way I do when I talk to guests on a podcast or on a telephone conversation, or best of all, while in person socializing. But in-person connection is challenging in modern times - especially when there’s social anxiety, a pandemic and the comfort that comes with staying home and using texting, Facetime or Zoom.

This movie is a little about sheltering away from self, out of fear, but through different outlets. sex, lies, and videotape is less about sex, but more about the lack of true intimacy and how different people view a version of closeness through their own illusory ways. Sometimes Soderbergh even finds the humor in how we engage. Part of the artistry of the film is the ironic use of talk to denote the lack of communication between characters. The film opens with Ann talking to a therapist. Ann and Cynthia talk on the telephone. Graham videotapes women talking about sex. Despite all this talk, little or no communication occurs in which there is a "real" connection behind the surface. That is until later on when Ann turns the tables on Graham and points the camera directly at him.

What's kind of remarkable is how Graham immediately feels comfortable talking about personal issues (asking Ann right off the bat about her marriage). This is something I can relate to, since I'm terrible at small talk, but genuinely enjoy deeper, meaningful engagement. Ann probably takes a liking to Graham almost because he approaches her with directness, in the same way her therapist does. Since she doesn't have this kind of open honesty within her own marriage, it's inevitable that she would gravitate towards Graham. What's fascinating to me is the stance of Ann saying that "sex is overrated." In a way, Graham has to agree since he's impotent, but still gets aroused through the act of voyeurism and verbal intimacy.

There's an immense fear of closeness for fear of it going away eventually, so each character wears armor in different ways. Graham filters reality through a camera. He lost someone close (Elizabeth) so likely has apprehensions about feeling love again. Peter is potentially addicted to sex. Cynthia is just a force of nature who also might fear a conventional relationship. Ann finds some form of catharsis in therapy or honest conversation but remains in denial about her current relationship until a certain earring shows up on the floor. They all connect - some in positive ways that lead to healthy change, others lead to a comeuppance.

Peter chooses sex as an act of escape and power, since that's the only way he feels in control. Ann chooses to write off sex as an act of rebellion, against her promiscuous sister. Graham chooses the videotape as his way of experiencing both distance and a personal connection. The scene after he watches Cynthia's videotape, shows him in a near-fetal-like position, cowering in shame. I imagine a number of guys who watch pornography probably experience pleasure in the moment, followed by a similar feeling of "this isn't real." Most technologies replicate this weird relationship, one that I've always felt is complicated.

On one hand, I was grateful that I grew up in a house that had a computer from early childhood onward. But on the other hand, I would more often stay inside and get lost in games or television, instead of trying to make more friends and going outside. Social anxiety and depression - they were a part of my parents so perhaps it was inevitable that my own brain would end up with similar issues. They both loved different things but found solace separately - movies, videogames, alcohol, but even when I was young, I sensed a lack of genuine love between them until much later on when we moved, and circumstances changed. Coping strategies to mask the lack of intimacy are inevitable - mine were music, film and food. I rarely sought out sex, drugs and extroverted activities. The classic definition of the wallflower at the party. One time I dated someone that asked my best friend at the time, “does Jim not like sex?” For the longest time, I have often thought of my mental health as affecting libido but now I know it’s physical too. As my therapist tells me, it’s a combination of a lot of factors.

As an adult, I now know that I experienced anxiety and depression to where I created my own sanctuary and armor from rejection or judgment. The characters in this sex, lies and videotape all suffer from some form of denial to the point where they struggle to keep themselves hidden inside of a lie because it feels safer than facing the truth. But again, it really mirrors the weird relationship with technology in a way that is truly ahead of its time. It also exposes to me the intimacy of therapy, and how an emotional investment makes things complicated too. It helps me understand why people choose to escape rather than be a part of something real.

It’s interesting to think of Graham as an abuser as well - he is essentially exploiting the secrets, desires and the bodies of women for his own pleasure. It is still a form of pornography since this is how he “gets off” when Cynthia asks him. Part of me frames his compulsion in a positive light but when stepping back, I can’t help but think of Graham as pathetic, gross and detached. In another film, he could be a Todd Solondz character in Happiness where we feel compassion while acknowledging he is doing something awful and unhealthy that is potentially damaging. There is a feeling of relief once he destroys his private collection of videotapes. It’s akin to an alcoholic finally throwing out the bottles.

There's a fear of vulnerability these characters experience, and I imagine that everyone feels safer filtering their social experience through text rather than interpersonal interaction. I'm not saying that the majority of our society is forgetting the importance of real dialogue shared in person, but I've noticed certain patterns that I've fallen into, that more or less reflect what Ann and Graham do in different ways. I have both been repressed like Ann and far too open like Graham, and I think the act of them winding up together in the end is a way to channel a hope for balance between the two extremes. We can see, though, that Graham and Ann have begun at least to remove some of the barriers to experiencing closeness.

The ambiguity that remains, however, reflects the filmmaker’s belief in the complexity of all relationships and, more specifically, the uncertainty of human intimacy and the imprecision of communication. That imprecision should not be met with fear, but with open arms. Otherwise we will get swamped in selfies, photobombs, reblogs and likes to where that takes precedence over actual spoken words shared between two people. The danger of detachment has never been portrayed more strongly than with James Spader as Graham. This remains my absolute favorite performance of his. Strangely enough, videotapes also play a huge role in another film he starred in, Bad Influence. Which lead to Rob Lowe’s own discoveries of a predilection to film sex in ways that got him in trouble. Again, it’s all connected.

Andie MacDowell is not a favorite actress of mine outside of this and Groundhog Day to where she serves the film well as a charming romantic lead. Here it seems like this role was written for her even if in real life, she’s far from being inhibited. I can’t imagine she could ever top this performance, similar to Spader but I’m also coming at this from a perspective of being able to empathize with both Ann and Graham more than most movie characters. It’s why I find the final image so profoundly moving. The idea of these two people together gives me hope. They may or may not come to terms with their past or their personal struggles, but they are willing to put forth the effort in hopes of finally feeling true, honest love.

Soderbergh's first film is now easily my favorite of his, even though I know as a director, he went on to become more polished and audacious. There's just something about the themes of sex, lies, and videotape that feel more relevant than they did upon its release, and for me, even more pertinent than when I watched a couple years ago for only the second time. As someone currently in therapy, and experiencing a breakdown with technology, this movie couldn't come at a better time to properly place itself as one of my favorite viewing experiences ever. The simplicity of the storytelling and emphasis on character is key. But the choice to have Peter experience Ann’s interview at a distance (the only way he can really know her) is just one of those perfectly staged and executed sequences. It’s a filtered reality but completely real. From the way he watches the TV to the look on his face of defeat and regret. But Peter being Peter, he can’t help but lay another punch in the gut to Graham by telling him what he did years ago. Peter deserves to be alone and that’s precisely his doomed fate.

The mechanism of videotape in of itself, which had previously been linked to Graham's impotence, later becomes a psychological breakthrough that Ann could not reach in psychotherapy. When they turn off that camera and acknowledge their desire to be together, it’s one of the best moments in all of cinema for me. Soderbergh doesn’t do much movement with the camera, it’s all about these people, the words they say, the body language and their entanglement. Perhaps Graham’s impotence was amplified by a lack of feeling desire and now with Ann’s affection, compassion and patience, they can experience and express desire together again for the first time in a long time.

Impotence is something I have believed to be a failing, whether psychologically or physically. Those two components - the mind and the body are in a complicated relationship together. There have been times when sex is wonderful and fulfilling for me, other times, I can only enjoy it on my own time as opposed to being around another person. Which in turn likely makes the other person/partner feel inferior or unattractive, which is never an intention or outcome that I like to impose. My body has been through a lot. When I was a kid, I was told I was too skinny. When I was a teenager, I was told I was too fat. When I was in my 20s, I lost a ton of weight only to gain it all back within the past decade. Finding time to cook healthy meals and exercise is extremely difficult but very important for physical health. Not to mention trying to work things out in therapy in order to not completely despise myself for not being able to perform.

Honestly, watching this film felt like a breakthrough that I could not reach in psychotherapy. Not to mention the remarkable score by Cliff Martinez (who did similar work in another film that profoundly mirrored my own life - Pump Up the Volume). How did a filmmaking debut by Soderbergh become my favorite over something like Schizopolis or Out of Sight? Well, I guess what I’ve written here sums it all up. That's the power of cinema, people. Thank God it exists. The final moment of this movie moved me greatly, only because I'm not sure if their conversation is mundane in a good way or in a comforting way. But the mere fact that they've acknowledged their issues together, is a good start. Maybe now they can heal together and experience what all couples should have: sex, truth and unconditonal love. If only all of us were blessed to experience those things together harmoniously with another person, even just one time in our lives.