Sunday, January 4, 2009

Sex and Death

You know I love Captain Kirk, right? His flavor. And his odor: like the leather seats of a candy apple red Mustang convertible, warmed by the southern California sun. It's like, you want to fuck the guy right there and mop up afterward with his gold velour Starfleet top.

Except, really, I don't. I mean, yeah, I do love him. Totally.
But no, I don't find him sexy. Wait. No. Obviously, yes, he's sexy. Jim Kirk is sex. Somehow, though, the character is not, I guess the word is, erotic. To me. He never, for instance, turns up in my dreams. Or his alter-ego (ego, ego, ego) Bill Shatner either. And in real life, please, spare me.

I was thinking about this after I made the "Sweat." calendar page (post below). Much as I love Capt. Kirk, and I'm repeating that because I feel disloyal otherwise, he's all bright, smooth surface and speed. For erotic, I need some shadows and slowness, some rough places for dreams to snag.

OK, I said to my subconscious, fine. Throw out some names: Who do you fancy?
And first on the screen of my consciousness there appeared Ulrich Mühe. (Honest, first.) He played Wiesler, the Stasi agent, in The Lives of Others.

Where's the eroticism in that?
Well, it's sure not bouncy Beach Boys sex. Mühe's one sex scene in Lives is a pathetic, brightly lit transaction on his couch with a kind, efficient prostitute.
On the same couch, in contrast, he reads a Brecht poem, which he has stolen from another life, and it is in the actor's power to convey transformative suffering, in stillness, that the erotic lies.

Not really Shatner/Kirk's thing.

So, I googled Ulrich Mühe.
He's dead.
I had no idea. He died in 2007, one year after The Lives of Others, from stomach cancer, at the age of fifty-four.

So startling, this reminder that the actors we see as symbols are, of course, real people. Even William Shatner will die one day, and that'll be a sad day.

But Capt. Kirk won't. He'll forever bop around the universe in all his adorable randiness and leave the low, slow work of sitting intelligently on couches to others.

Seems I find reading sexier than sex. But for all that, upon reflection, if Kirk pulled up in, say, a little red Corvette, I'd hop in.


bink said...

This reminds me of a good comment by a bad boyfriend..."the brain is the sexiest organ".

Witnessing transformation is very erotic.

fresca said...

That's it.

Anonymous said...

Fresca, I respect your fascination with Kirk -- and I love the first paragraph of this, mmmm, very sexy!

However, Kirk never really did it for me. Spock's exoticism was alluring, though, and his smarts. I couldn't stand that drippy, cotton candy female who had a futile crush on him, whatever her name was. No doubt I was jealous.

On the other hand, Uhura was the most beautiful woman on the show and I always wanted to see more of her. Her scent would be that of good Mexican chocolate before it's submerged in hot milk. Yeah.


fresca said...

Fun! You are right-on with your food images.

Nurse Chapel was indeed cotton-candyish, both her hair and her personality. That character was a disservice to the show and all of humanity. One of the few females who got lines, and she was a drip.

Uhura as Mexican chocolate--you mean the kind with cinnamon and almond in it, right?--I'm with you there!
I had written she tasted of Tang, in an earlier post, with its space-age zing. So, Tang for breakfast and chocolate at night. I could live with that.

I never liked Kirk either, until this past year, when his blast of life was just what I needed. Sometimes I just need a nice shiny surface, a nice rest from complexity.

Anonymous said...

I want the car. (unless George Clooney was the driver, then I'd want both.)

fresca said...

Me too, Barrett!
It's a 1968 Candy Apple Red (this is the actual name of the color) Mustang convertible, with a red interior.
You can see more here: