text:
Tag Archives: Dead But Dreaming
September 1, 2020 · 12:01 pm
by Rich Moreland, September 2020
Once again, I've taken the opportunity to review a Jac Avila film. His newest offering is the first in a series starring Dani Borda.
Photos are courtesy of Jac Avila and Red Feline.
The blurb that accompanies the latest Red Feline offering, CruXtreme I, states in part:
After a drink, a young woman visits her lover's playroom and comments, "'It is so medieval, like the Spanish Inquisition.' 'Do you want to play?' He asks. 'Yes', she responds. Thus begins a night of extreme torture and terror."
Lovely and Eager
Jac Avila's reinvigoration of the Red Feline genre ensures another success with CruXtreme I (CX I). The film follows the time-tested erotic horror formula that built the Red Feline label and its loyal fan base. Central to Red Feline's cinematic successes are the likes of the talented sisters Carmen and Veronica Paintoux, Mila Joya, Beatriz Rivera, and the dynamic Amy Hesketh, all of whom fans have come to adore for their willingness to suffer.
Now we have Daniela Borda and she is sensational. Dani is lovely, nicely put together from a physical standpoint and overly eager to please. Her personality is bright with abounding smiles. From what this writer sees in her CX I performance, should this dark and alluring girl decide to continue with Red Feline and give Jac more opportunities to explore her likes and limits, she may very well eclipse her predecessors in her performances.
Incidentally, this is not Dani's first Jac Avila shoot. She broke into the erotic horror genre with a role in Monxa Mala. In that film she is his beloved, a role reprised in CX I. Incidentally, Dani has a history with Red Feline before her role in Monxa, something I discovered when corresponding with Jac.
"Yes, Dani's first film with me is Monxa Mala," he says, "but we did a lot of work prior to that film, some of which is good enough to be released as rehearsal movies."
Hopefully that is in the works soon!
Before we delve into CX I, a helpful comment is appropriate. As a veteran scribe of the adult film industry, I can attest that commercialized pornography revolves around two film variations: the feature and the vignette. With their erotic horror offerings, Jac Avila and Amy Hesketh have created memorable feature films such as the acclaimed Dead But Dreaming and Justine. Productions like these require scripts, substantial budgets, location shooting, and a cast and crew. On the other hand, vignettes are compact and can work without the above. This is the case with CX I.
We'll talk more about that later. For now, here's quick run through of the what you will see on-screen.
The Playroom
The opening scene is shot in the bedroom of the male protagonist (Jac Avila). He has a female guest (Dani Borda) and serves her a drink. They're apparently lovers. At one point, she tells him, "I like to do lots of things," and inquires as to what he has in mind that might satisfy her. He suggests "Monopoly," but that is of no interest to her. She says she is "awful" at that game. That settles everything and he lets her in on his ploy: his playroom. She responds hungrily. "I want to see it!"
"Do you like scary?" he asks.
"Yeah, I like it a lot!" she smiles.
And so, the stage is set for Dani's coming tribulations fueled by the erotic taste of the macabre that thrives at the end of a whip.
The entire film is set around a wheel that is an ominous relic of the Middle Ages. Dani is coy and demure while excitedly open to anything. It's a delightful combination that sells this movie. She examines the device with carnal fascination . . . or might we suggest loving masochism. When she agrees to be attached to it face down with arms outstretched, her ordeal begins.
With the first blows of the riding crop, Jac asks "Do you like it?"
She answers with a definitive, yet cautious, "yes."
But as we know in these kinds of Red Feline scenarios, her painful cries will soon overwhelm her enthusiasm, or so we are led to believe. When the intensity builds, she will protest with "It hurts!" and "Okay, stop it!" — words that will invigorate BDSM fans who relish the helpless, punished female. But the certainty of her pleas is somewhat in doubt. Dani is into this.
Over the course of the film, Dani's naked body is put into four different positions and thoroughly worked over to the viewer's delight. Her performance reflects touches of Amy's Red Feline resume. Lots of crying out and then passing out which allows her to be repositioned for the next scene. Best of all, there are no loin cloths to conceal her tender parts, evident when Jac secures her ankles with a homemade spreader bar that reveals all. (Note: Like Jac's other cinematic victims, Dani is not completely shaved which retains a touch modesty that may disappoint some fans.)
The hallmark of a Red Feline production is the "interlude" when the camera lingers on the tortured motionless body each time the victim succumbs to unconsciousness. The silence during these scenes is deafening. There are long pauses (in literature they are known as frozen moments) while the viewer watches her servile and submissive breathing that assures the anticipation of the next whipping. As if in a painting, the pauses are an artistic rendering of an avenue of female sexuality that has a BDSM niche appeal.
Similar to the quiet moments in Justine when Amy goes under from the whip, splashes of water do the trick and Dani is revived so her tribulation (or should we say "fun") can continue.
It's worth a note that when Dani is face up on the wheel, the medieval flavor of the dungeon playroom is reinforced with a spiked belt attachment that secures her waist to increase her pain and eliminate writhing.
By the way, Dani Borda is tattooed and pierced. Her body art fits well with the contemporary "outre" female who is perfect for these films. Call it kinky or quirky, no matter. Everything comes together with Dani and her fans—no pun intended, of course.
Speaking of the erotic element, there is frequent kissing during Dani's trials. It's a celebration, really, of her beauty and willingness to endure. Never once in the film did this reviewer get the impression that she was not enjoying herself or pleased with her performance. The tone of Dani's on-screen presence will remind Red Feline aficionados of their past sweethearts (mentioned above) who have endured Jac Avila's torments.
Before we examine the film's cinematography in the next post, there is this:
Jac and Dani appear to make love as the final moments of the opening scene transition into their visit to his playroom. Keep that in mind because there is a surprise ending that raises questions about what is really going on in this film: reality or fantasy or flashback? You decide.
To download Cruxtreme I or order it in a DVD format, head to Vermeerworks.
If you have not yet purchased the tortured female BDSM horror classics Jac mentions here, scroll through the Vermeerworks catalogue for ordering.
And, if you are so inclined, reviews of other Jac and Amy's feature films appear in the archives of this blog.
Tagged as Amy Hesketh, BDSM, Beatriz Rivera, Carmen Paintoux, CruXtreme I, Daniela Borda, Dead But Dreaming, female torture, Jac Avila, Justine, Mila Joya, Monxa Mala, Red Feline, Veronica Paintoux
The Passion of Isabel: Part One
Entering its eighteenth year of production, Red Feline Pictures (RFPIX) continues its mission to bring BDSM film to a niche audience fascinated by crucifixion themes hammered and nailed with religious imagery.
The films typically center on a single female and her suffering under an oppressive regime or doctrine, such as the Inquisition, or as a product of her own fertile and willing imagination.
The Passion of Isabel stars the incomparable Beatriz Rivera as the heroine and longtime Red Feline actor and director Jac Avila as Torquemada.
In addition to Isabel, all of the films mentioned in this review are available at Red Feline and have been reviewed on this blog. I encourage anyone who wishes to purchase The Passion of Isabel to read my analysis of the other movies to get a further flavor of the Red Feline/Pachamama Films product.
The Passion of Isabel is set in early modern Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth century. The Age of Discovery promises the dawn of a new day that will challenge outdated belief systems.
However, for the youthful and beautiful Isabel, the old ways remain in place. Her father has arranged her marriage to an aristocratic friend named Torquemada and announces it publicly.
"Isabel is called to her father's side at the high tower in a palace," we are told, where she refuses the union, asserting that she will be her own woman and make her own choices.
"Enraged by this public humiliation, her father rushes to chastise her. To free herself from his grip, she pushes him, causing him to fall from the tower to his death. This dooms Isabel. For she is locked in a dungeon to await trial.
But there will not be any trial… Her fate now rests in the hands of Torquemada. And he has only one goal: Destroy the woman who humiliated and rejected him."
If there is a single weakness in this film it is illustrated above. The viewer is not introduced to the story and instead is taken immediately to the dungeon where Isabel will suffer at the hands of Torquemada. To fill in the gap, I encourage everyone to read the entire description (parts of which I have quoted here) on the Red Feline website.
An introductory explanation during the opening credits would have helped set the scene, especially since the DVD is not packaged with a box cover that would include a brief synopsis.
But that is the only shortcoming in The Passion of Isabel. For BDSM fans who crave the vision of lovely female flesh resisting and succumbing to pain, this film fits the bill.
Your Body or Your Soul
The story opens with Isabel brought into the dungeon where she will face the judgement imposed on her by a deranged mind, her "crime" a mere excuse for unabated sadism and the sexual satisfaction it brings.
"Why do you have me here? You know I'm not guilty." She questions.
Torquemada, who has no interest in consoling her, grabs Isabel behind the neck (which he does frequently in the film), and announces her father died disappointed that his gift to a friend turned into a "rebellious daughter" who needs to be chastised.
"He wanted you to be mine. You're mine now and you're going to pay for what you did to your father."
Isabel is angry, telling him he knows it was not her fault.
Unmoved, Torquemada asks which is stronger, her body or her soul, then lets Isabel know both are now his.
From here the movie examines the miseries Torquemada inflicts on his victim. Among the whippings and rack and wheel tortures, there are the repeated simulated rapes.
Does this make Passion a horror story for an a mature audience? Perhaps, considering that most people may not want the kids to watch a naked woman abused and used. But, there is no hardcore sex and certainly no gore. This is not a slasher film.
So, what is it? For some viewers, Passion is soft porn (because of its nudity) marked with ordeals of pain. But that is hardly adequate. From my perspective, Passion is exactly what makes the Red Feline label popular: an outré, extravagant, and kinky art film with an undeniable erotic overlay.
The Erotic
Yet, what is erotic has as many variances as there are film fans. Having said that, it is too easy and grossly unfair to dismiss Red Feline productions like Martyr, Agent X, and Red Room as mindless female torture movies. Like Passion, they explore the psychological aspects of how we as a society view our sexuality, especially the masochistic/sadistic paradigm.
Over the years, the Red Feline label has matured in its technical presentation and Passion, at this point in time, has reached cinematic excellence. Visually, the viewer will be stunned by the clarity of the sadistic trials Isabel must endure.
What's more, actress Beatriz Rivera has an overwhelming assignment in this film: show Isabel's evolution from angry resistance to total submission. Torquemada breaks her so that she may reach her "understanding" in peace.
Because dialogue is sparse, Bea must reveal this transformation with her eyes, her expressions, her body positions, and her cries. In effect, they become the dialogue of surrender.
Bea's gift is her ability to do this in a way that is steeped in our old friend, eroticism. Isabel is no passive whipping toy. She's a fighter with whimpering her only concession to Torquemada's abuse and asserts her feminist belief in her own sexual power. She may break in the end, but her torturer will work hard for his triumph.
Bea as Isabel bravely endures her pain to the excitement of the BDSM crowd. But that is only part of her appeal. She uses Isabel's anguish to seduce even the most casual viewer. It's a rare talent indeed.
Take, for example, the first whipping scene. Isabel's arms are manacled in a crucifixion position and she growls at Torquemada, "Why are you doing this to me? Damn you, get off me."
But for Isabel, from now on it's all downhill and there will be no tears only quiet resistance that still flickers at the end.
By the way, this a fabulous scene. Beatriz Rivera's body is exquisite, her nakedness enchanting. It is one of the best lashing sequences ever filmed by Red Feline or Pachamama Films, for that matter, and that includes the riveting work of Amy Hesketh whose filming resume is without equal in this kind of scene. That, believe me, is high praise and Bea should be proud of her performance in this segment for it alone is worth the price of the DVD.
The Victim Role Times Three
Beatriz Rivera appears in Justine, a Pachamama Film that also stars Amy Hesketh and Mila Joya who take the stage together in other films, among them Barbazul and Dead But Dreaming.
What is fascinating is how each of the actresses plays the victim role differently. Amy is horror oriented (Olalla, a vampire tale like Dead, is the best example). Her scenes carry a shock value that departs from pure eroticism because Amy believes in putting psychological terror on an equal footing with S/M for its own sake.
Amy in Olalla
Mila follows a different path. Despite a brief irascible moment as the vampire Aphrodisia in Dead, Mila is the docile submissive (for the non-torture version check out her role in Barbazul). Her suffering is preordained, it seems, and she is led to the slaughter with her gorgeous body abused and bloodied. Mila's anguish is highlighted in both Maleficarum and Le Marquis de la Croix where she is sensationally pleasing to the sadistic eye.
Mila in Le Marquis de la Croix
Truth be told, Amy and Mila are luscious displays of female pulchritude. They are as alluring as any BDSM model in adult film and could go that route if they chose. But the question remains how to show the erotic side of sexy under the lash. Both can do that with their established reputations.
Mila and Amy in Maleficarum
Where, then, does this place Bea? Easy, the Bolivian beauty's seductive and steamy on-camera persona challenges Amy and Mila for the camera's eye. However, in Justine, she is learning her craft and keeps her presence under wraps. Understandable, I might add, considering that at times in the film she is overshadowed by Amy's star power and Mila's sultry victimization.
Bea in Justine
Plus, Bea is not totally nude, a downer for eager viewers who like their whipped women totally exposed and an indication of some hesitation on her part, at least in that film.
Incidentally, her introduction to the sadomasochistic genre of the Pachamama variety puts more emphasis on plot line than Red Feline so Bea had to demonstrate her acting skills from the get go. Not a simple task for a fresh face.
But hey, it's a learning curve and that was her beginning. The Passion of Isabel has moved her forward in giant steps. Whereas Justine offers the viewer a taste of Beatriz Rivera, Isabel marches her onto center stage to carry the story on her shapely back, pun intended.
As Amy and Mila begin to explore other artistic avenues that may limit their futures in front of the camera, Beatriz Rivera is ready to step up to the plate, as they say in baseball, and hit a few homers of her own.
A few comments on the technical aspects of the film are in order.
First, three cameras are used to record the scenes with a pace that is Hollywood worthy. Second, the technical quality (color and clarity) of the film is top notch. And third, in the movies timing is everything and Isabel's suffering is highlighted by frozen imagery when the camera lingers on her beaten body after the torture has ended.
Its a cinematic moment Jac Avila has perfected that enriches the artistic vision of Red Feline and Pachamama films. The film's message is transformed into a museum painting.
In my view, for these reasons alone The Passion of Isabel has to be the best Red Feline picture made so far.
Tagged as Agent X, Amy Hesketh, Barbazul, BDSM, Beatriz Rivera, Dead But Dreaming, female crucifixion, female torture, female whipping, Jac Avila, Justine, Le Marquis de la Croix, Maleficarum, Martyr, Mila Joya, Olalla, Pachamama Films, Red Feline, Red Room, The Passion of Isabel
Reflections on Sirwiñakuy
by Rich Moreland, June 2017
From the movie source IMDb about Sirwiñakuy:
The story of an obsessive relationship between a young French woman and an older Bolivian man. Their unusual romance, like the country in which they live, is transforming, sometimes violent and difficult to understand.
Finally creating some time to watch Sirwiñakuy, a 2010 release from Pachamama Films, I recognized immediately it wasn't supercharged like Dead But Dreaming, Olalla, Barbazul, or Justine, so my viewer "sleepwalking" kicked in after the first few minutes.
I did get through the opening Cafe scene where Luis (Jac Avila) picks up Anouk (Veronica Paintoux) after director Amy Hesketh has her Hitchcock moment. Not much here, I thought, other than a smidgen of a Bolivian street scene travelogue featuring a local hangout.
About an hour and forty minutes later it was over.
When I popped up Microsoft word on my computer to take a few quick notes to prepare for this "review," I had nothing much to say.
Easy. I have "great expectations," as Charles Dickens would say, for the innovative work of Amy Hesketh and Jac Avila but Sirwiñakuy didn't deliver, or so it appeared.
But the truth did not lie within the film. My lack of appreciation for Sirwiñakuy was rooted in my failure as a viewer. I didn't pay attention to what was in front of me and I know better than that.
My "Oh Hum"
To put it another way, watching Sirwiñakuy reminded me of my university days when on rare occasions I snoozed in class. Whenever that happened, behavior modification was promptly needed so I'd go back to "the house" (yes, I was a frat boy, quite an admission in these days of fraternity vilification) for a nap. College is a waste if you can't stay awake. My parental units were paying the bills and there were too many excellent profs at my school not to fully absorb what they had to say.
For Sirwiñakuy, a similar correction was in order. But in this case, it had nothing to do with physical or mental fatigue . . . or meeting someone else's expectations, for that matter.
Here's the real reason.
You see, Sirwiñakuy is Amy's first film. It's been around for a while. My mistake was looking at it from the perspective of a body of work that has matured over the years, a group of films I was very familiar with. That's like taking a hall-of-fame player and analyzing his first game as a rookie. Appearances can be deceptive; conclusions unfair. I was moving in reverse gear with the movie, judging the past on the present.
Look at it this way. I watched Anouk get spanked, but I also remember Veronica Paintoux as Nahara the vampire in Dead, a spectacularly sexy portrayal on her part, and as the elegant Annabelle in Barbazul.
Anouk's character just didn't rev up my reviewer engine.
My first viewing sold Sirwiñakuy short and it doesn't deserve my "oh-hum." Just because the narrative lacks all those lovely whipping scenes so characteristic of Pachamama/Decadent Films, along with vampire angst, serial killers, female suffering, and theological tyranny (or rigmarole depending on the movie) that begs to be intellectualized, is in no way a takedown of this film.
So what I've written here is a process, not a review. Like an archeologist, I wanted to turn the soil on what Amy, Jac, and Veronica do so well in this film.
So let's rewind Sirwiñakuy, electrify our thinking cap, and get to work peeling away the layers that makeup the narrative.
What I've come to anticipate from Amy and Jac does not seem obvious at a Sirwiñakuy first glance. I repeat, at first glance because everything is there hiding under the covers, or to be more accurate, behind all those books and portraits from the past that lord over the action.
To delve into the narrative I returned to what shaped my literary education in grad school; I decided to study Sirwiñakuy . . and I mean go over everything in detail!
First, I read every review I could find. Some of them are pretty good and I suggest you google Sirwiñakuy and dive into them yourself. I don't have a lot to add to what others much smarter than I have said about dramatic intent, imagery, machismo, action shots (taxi ride, taxi ride!) and the natural, always problematic, process of leaving childhood behind (observe the way Anouk randomly stuffs her stuff into her trolley cart and did I mention talking with her mouth full? I can hear my mother now).
Next, I devised a plan to watch the film again but in a different way to uncover its magic.
Ditch the Sound
I recalled what I adore most about Hollywood's silent film era: faces, eyes and glances, gazing, nods, and expressive movement of hands, in particular. Actors in those days (think the Barrymores) had to emote with their entire physical and emotional consciousness because dialogue was limited to title cards. On screen presence was everything.
Unless the moviegoer was a lip reader, watching carefully to get the story through interpreting the actor, not the voice, was paramount. In other words, the viewer had to lean forward and not be satisfied with distant amusement as later became the habit when "Godzilla Eats Tokyo" in those silly 1950s Atomic Age B-pictures, for example.
Thankfully, silent era animation carried over into some of the great films of the 1930s: John and Lionel Barrymore, Greta Garbo, and Wallace Beery in Grand Hotel in 1932, then John, Lionel, and Wallace again in Dinner at Eight in 1933 and don't hesitate to fast forward to 1950 and add Gloria Swanson in Sunset Bloulevard.
So, I went into silent movie mode. I turned off the sound (which means I gave up the music not something I would suggest because it is meaningful to the narrative) and relied on closed captioning . . .
. . . And just watched, every moment, every expression, every nuanced look and motion (notice how Anouk uses her eyes to show her annoyance with Luis whose own expression returns fire with quiet bullets of gentle criticism) . . .
I paused the film to study the scenes (love the old house, the eclectic furniture, and all the books) which led to my oft-repeated and inevitable question of "why is that there?" What is the director telling us? What are the actors communicating to each other and to the viewer?
Slowly in its slinky little way, Sirwiñakuy stared back at me with a wagging finger saying "Do you get it now?"
Based on its performance alone and the directing that breathes life into it, the film is gutsy. As for the story, it is pretty straight-forward. The complexity of the tale is "inside the characters," Amy tells us in the commentary section of the DVD.
Creeping Up
Sleepwalking now conquered, what's next?
The researcher/scholar in me wanted to find what Amy and Jac had to say about the production, so I went to the film again and tuned in on the commentary (for me, it's like getting an interview).
What I found was verification of my thoughts on certain scenes: the shots of the portraits on the wall between smacks on Anouk's butt, the Pieta that looms over the couple when Luis draws his bloody "pound of flesh" with the thorns on the red roses, and all those Freudian eating scenes (Bolivians must love their bread and Luis makes sandwiches that are precise and symmetrical in their contents!) just to name a few.
Viewing number three left me with several pages of handwritten notes. Sirwiñakuy is creeping up on me now complemented by Jac Avila, who in his usual graciousness supplied me with vital information about the film. I'll cover that shortly.
As I indicated above, Amy and Jac have already established a very high bar for all their yet-to-come work. What is remarkable about Sirwiñakuy is in its cinematic expression, and, I might add, Amy's tightly drawn story that uses quick transitions to keep the viewer engaged and the pace rolling along. There's no dead time anywhere.
In fact, it is impossible for me to believe this is Amy's first film. The characters and the scenes are interwoven with the skill of a master craftsman.
Ah, Miss Veronica
A word is due about the captivatingly gorgeous Veronica Paintoux.
She and Amy hardly knew each other when she agreed to do the film. Make no mistake, Veronica is the heartbeat of Sirwiñakuy. Her willingness to do just about anything—I'm talking nude scenes here—to bring the narrative full circle deserves high praise.
Take the masturbation shower episode, for instance, that reveals Anouk's intentions and drops a few hints about her developing relationship with Luis.
Is she trying to wash away her sexual pleasure or wantonly readying herself to live with this much older man?
Veronica's talent keeps the viewer on edge, particularly in the scene when she leaves her old clothes in the hotel. It's symbolic, of course, and almost borders on the hackneyed, but Veronica pulls it off. Anouk's got a ton of courage now, but for what?
When she hits streets Anouk is naked underneath that awful 1960s topcoat fashion statement Luis bought for her. Her audacity reminds me of the bar scene from The Story of O when O settles gingerly onto the bar stool because there's nothing between it and the bare flesh under her dress.
She's blatantly erotic and submissive and coy at the same time.
Oh, let me note, Veronica Paintoux is as natural as her nudity. She wears minimal, if any, make-up which enhances that childlike state Amy wants to reinforce in Anouk's character.
Toying with a Story
Here's what Jac has to say about Veronica and Amy and Sirwiñakuy's evolution.
"Amy had a story she was toying with, set in France, which in one of our long walks I convinced her to adapt it to Bolivia. In the French version, the guy was French and the woman was American visiting Paris. In the Bolivian version, she made the guy Bolivian and the woman French.
"Amy wanted Veronica to play the woman, she felt that she would be great in that role, she saw her in Martyr (a 2002 production starring Carmen Paintoux) and she liked the chemistry and sexual tension we had in that film.
"It was obvious that I would play the guy, Monsieur Montez. That was the original title, by the way, Monsieur Montez. We opted for Sirwiñakuy when I explained to her the tradition here where a man 'kidnaps' a woman, takes her home and after trying out for some time they get married if the situation works.
"Amy liked the idea. A friend of mine is the composer of the title song and Heni, my Hungarian collaborator, now a PHD in anthropology, provided the background for the title."
In listening to Jac, what I've always wondered about Amy Hesketh's work came to mind again. How personal is the film to her? I have a feeling Amy wrote Sirwiñakuy as a narrative of her own erotic and sexual evolution.
. . . But that is only a guess.
Finally, Sirwiñakuy caused a bit of a dustup in Bolivian theaters. Apparently they don't like BDSM relationships there, too much machismo.
Understandable, but that's not Sirwiñakuy's message, so listen up.
The interactions between Luis and Anouk are accurate portrayals of what an authentic Dom/sub arrangement is (to suggest it is master/slave is laughably overblown). In other words, BDSM is an agreed upon sexual interplay within an existing relationship and that's what the film tells its audience.
Nothing BDSM is twenty-four seven, but when everything heats up, it's all about the power play moment at hand.
Anouk is an equal partner in their relationship at all times and proves it with her expressions, her eyes, and her moods. She even walks out to think things over.
Pay attention when she takes the whip away from Luis and remember the haircut game. It's only symbolic because he backs off. Score one for feistiness. Who decides who is in control?
By the way, they sell whips at rural markets in Bolivia which in my view confounds the objections to the film. In the commentary section, Jac mentions whips were around in the society before the Spanish arrived and Amy interjects with a chuckle, "Where there is a whip, there is life, there is BDSM."
What is not to love about her?
But remember, it's all consensual.
By the way, Amy adds an adorable touch in the commentary section. She notes that Anouk violates protocol when she sits in "daddy's" chair to read, behavior that is "not allowed." Beautiful. Submissives love their daddies. Anouk is learning the ground rules . . . or perhaps she acted deliberately to bank on a "correction" some time later, a little fun with "daddy."
Keep in mind Anouk is no fawning submissive, but she doesn't go for the harsher treatment that turns on Anne Desclos' (Pauline Réage) heroine in O. In fact, Anouk plays an ongoing "cat and mouse" game with Luis throughout the film, thus the wall-mounted drawing of a rodent that pushes back against the overstuffed cat in the apartment.
The little bugger is within full view, but just out of reach of his furry pursuer. BDSM negotiation is always on the table.
A final note for S/M fans . . . if you want to see Luis discipline Anouk with the whip, won't happen. It's merely suggested. But take heart, check out Amy and Jac's later films (under the Pachamama label) for that visual delight. And, consider this. Maybe someday we'll see their version of O come to the screen . . .
Anouk's character, much like O's, is a feminist statement . . . a woman in control. And why not? In my view, Amy Hesketh is a feminist filmmaker in this supposedly post-modern era. Is feminism passé? Perhaps. But after all, I was once a frat guy, so we all have a past, now don't we?
Here they are, the three that give Sirwiñakuy its reason to be.
Here's the director at work:
Tagged as Amy Hasketh, Barbazul, BDSM, Bolivia, Dead But Dreaming, Dinner at Eight, Feminism, Glorian Swanson, Grand Hotel, Greta Garbo, Jac Avila, John Barrymore, Justine, Lionel Barrymore, Olalla, Pachamama Films, Pauline Reage, Sirwinakuy, Sunset Bloulevrd, The Story of O, Veronica Paintoux, Wallace Beery
May 2, 2017 · 9:50 am
Le Marquis, Part Three: Insights from the Producers
by Rich Moreland, April 2017
In this third post we're going to take a look at the "arc" of Le Marquis de la Croix.
Jac Avila's and Amy Hesketh's remarks come from the commentary section of the DVD. I've used their thoughts to build my analysis of film.
As always, I encourage everyone to watch Le Marquis and interpret the story for themselves. To check out trailers from the film, click here.
All photos are courtesy of Pachamama Films.
Personal Catharsis
Amy Hesketh gives us a snapshot of the type of characters she and Mila Joya play in Pachamama productions.
Roles like Zynga are "special" for a woman, the director of Le Marquis declares, because they become a "personal catharsis." In other words, an actress encounters experiences beyond her present reality and the range of emotions that accompany them.
Amy mentions death as an example.
The director also believes that films like Le Marquis concentrate on image making as a statement of art. The tortured woman becomes poetic especially when portrayed by the talented Mila Joya. She expresses so much without words, Jac Avila interjects, using her eyes to communicate pleading, pain, and resignation.
There is another character in Le Marquis: the setting. It dictates the narrative, emerging as a force that brings out the pain suffered by both victim and torturer. Other Pachamama films like Maleficarum and Justine also do this well.
The dungeon is a state of anima/animus and yin/yang, Amy believes, opposites that are psychological constructs of the self. In other words, the torturer and his victim develop a personal intimacy within the confines of the chamber.
"There's something that happens in this whole arc . . . the characters are together" in their state of mind, she says.
Their intimacy emerges. Zynga often gazes at the marquis with abject servility, offering herself to him while he worships her as the object that gratifies his sadism.
Do they have real affection for each other? Perhaps.
At any rate, the tension between denial and survival further defines the arc of Le Marquis.
To put it another way, Zynga's needs are physical and immediate; the marquis' are psychological and emotional. Both are sides of human existence that combine to form a whole person severely circumscribed within the miserable confines of the prison.
Consider this, the torture scenes reinforce one kind of denial when Zynga begs for the wine so she can physically survive; whereas, another version of denial, this time psychological, is overcome when the aristocrat gives in to his need to increase the intensity of the tortures.
In Le Marquis survival is at stake in the power play between the dominant and submissive. As Amy puts it, the desperate gypsy makes a deal to be sold rather than being executed only to discover her choice will lead to her doom.
That, I think, is the "arc" that Amy creates with her performances and directing, not only in Le Marquis but other films as well.
An Intimate Position
The image of Zynga in chains is a device of suffering, Amy asserts, but it's also erotic. The marquis' control over her and her reaction to the tortures are part of the carnal appeal of the film.
In truth, it's the psychological essence of sadomasochist sexuality.
Accepting that vision, Amy comments on the rack scene. It offers a different feel from whipping because the victim is lying down which injects a sensual component into the scene.
She references the rack as "an intimate position like someone sitting on the side of the bed and talking to you." This scenario creates "an emotional and physical dialogue" between torturer and victim.
We see it in Ollala, for example.
How easy is it then for the marquis and Zynga to take the next step and become lovers? After all, the victim is open to penetration were that a choice the torturer decides to make.
In Sade's writing, that line is crossed frequently, but only suggested in Le Marquis . . . or at least we suppose.
A Violent Act
Amy Hesketh emphasizes the rack's sadomasochitic implications by underscoring sex as a violent/aggressive act often witnessed in animal mating behavior. For Sade, torture is part of a sex act that exists within in the mind, she believes.
This is in play when the marquis touches Zynga lovingly, then releases the tension only to begin the process again. On a metaphorical level each pull of the ropes is a moment of ecstasy for both the masochist and the sadist . . . an orgasm, so to speak.
Later in the preparing for Zynga's crucifixion, the nobleman runs the tip of the nail over her cheek and body in a gesture of admiration and sacred adoration.
The emotional intensity is breathtaking.
Of course, the nails will penetrate Zynga's body in an intimate act much like Dracula's blood sucking when his phallic-like fangs puncture the flesh.
So how far can we go in equating sex, the act of procreation, with the end of life? I suspect Amy is telling us it is part of the "arc."
It's worth mentioning that hints of sex and torture as interchangeable parts subtly pervade films like Justine, Dead But Dreaming (consider the vampire roles of Jac Avila and Mila Joya) and Barbazul (the erotic writer, Jane, is whipped and strangled when she resists Bluebeard's offer to sexually "play").
But Le Marquis presents a twist. The gypsy's sexual presence is so overwhelming that she emotionally emasculates her torturer in the best moments of denial in any Pachamama Film to date.
How do we know? Study the marquis at his desk writing and sipping wine while Zynga suffers behind him. His manner defines what it means to be clinical, distant, and devoid of overt emotion before modern psychology studied such things. Simply put, he has repressed his need to "feel" in order to sate his deviancy.
Amy Hesketh comments that the Marquis de Sade lived in his mind. His psychological self and his world were well-developed because neither extended beyond the walls of his prison.
In Le Marquis, Amy puts this observation into play. When Zynga becomes part of her torturer's limited universe, he introduces her to severe acts of misery then follows the gypsy's agonizing rhythms as her suffering intensifies.
It is the motion of the sexual, waves of ecstasy crash and recede in the poetry of the human condition.
Her painful contortions devolve into images frozen in time when she loses consciousness.
Zynga's crucifixion animates this point. Amy states that she wants to create visual representations much like "a painting from a book" when shooting such scenes. It's another way of interpreting the "frozen moment."
To "Feel" Something
Though Le Marquis is told through a progression of images depicting the gypsy's gradual descent into the horrors of the abyss, Amy points out that audiences today are not shocked by physical depictions of blood and pain (modern slasher films probably contribute to an ennui that numbs all of us).
On the other hand, persuading people to "feel" something in that regard, to get them to take notice, so to speak, is new.
To do that, film must become a mirror, she implies.
"The only emotions you can show someone are their own," Amy declares. The key is to find the triggers that engage the viewer.
Le Marquis reaches for that difficult goal.
Next the fourth post will look at the Zynga's crucifixion as a statement of the sacred feminine.
For my review of the other Pachamama Films mentioned in this analysis, check the following: Dead But Dreaming (May 2016), Ollala (July 2016), Barbazul (September 2016), and Justine (December 2016).
Tagged as Amy Hesketh, Dead But Dreaming, female torture, female whipping, Jac Avila, Justine, Le Marquis de la Croix, Maleficarum, Marquis de Sade, rack torture
Le Marquis, Part Two: Wild with Lust
In this post we find out about the gypsy's significance in Le Marquis de la Croix.
Pachamama productions are always more than they seem at first glance and Le Marquis is no exception.
All photos are courtesy of the company.
Wretched Creature
Le Marquis de la Croix is the dance of the gypsy, suspended and exposed to the nightmarish whims of her aristocratic master. Her time with him is short. Her trials encompass less than a twenty-four hour period.
After he purchases Zynga, the marquis uses her sexually then shackles her to a pillar for a good flogging.
The scene rivals similar punishments from Dead But Dreaming when Amy Hesketh is the Irish traveler humiliated at the whipping post and Justine where Amy is spread-eagle between pillars for a public lashing.
In this reviewer's opinion those scenes is are the finest Pachamama Films has produced, but Zynga's scourging–back and front with her dress torn away in the same manner as the Irish traveler and Justine–ranks among the best.
To clarify the above statement, Pachamama Films presents female whippings under varying circumstances and settings.
In the case of Le Marquis, flogging is torture for its own sake as we see in the dungeons of Justine rather than an interrogation technique in Maleficarum (below) or enforcing discipline shown in Ollala .
Curiously after the marquis is finished and the gypsy is properly marked, a chanting and singing crowd is heard outside his cell. The aristocrat comments that Zynga, whom he calls a "wretched creature," may not have committed any crime. Nevertheless, he treats her abysmally in a highly sexualized ritual spurred by his sadism.
"Zynga excited me violently," he says as he abandons her manacled to the pillar. Her suffering makes him "rigid," he admits, before calming his "ardor and desires" with an act of self-pleasure.
The Spaniard
Wielding his whip on the fair body of the gypsy causes the marquis to wax poetic. "What beauty. These are roses strewn upon the lilies by the Grace's very hands."
What's going on here? Is this a divine moment?
Early on when Zynga is first sold to the aristocrat, he tempts her with an apple in a reversal of the Genesis story when Eve seduces Adam. But that's not quite as simple as it sounds because Zynga is, in fact, the marquis' temptation and a reminder of the emotional pain he endures.
In other words, both have a hunger for freedom and the aristocrat in the end will facilitate hers.
When she is kneeling in front of him in total subservience, the marquis demands to know what she will do for the fruit. The gypsy offers to sing, the ancient's oft-used reference to oral sex. Don't forget the Romans noted that the intoxicating Cleopatra (not known for her beauty, by the way) had an enchanting voice, a reference to certain performing skills respectable Roman women found onerous.
Addressing Zynga as "a Spaniard," the nobleman demands she "come get it." Her shackled hands and feet require her to edge toward him using only her knees.
This sets up the film's lone sex act (she is "fed" another way) and reveals the political theme of this brilliantly crafted script.
Stoicism and Silence
That Zynga is a gypsy is not incidental. Known as the Romani, nomadic gypsies were often expelled from the regions of Europe they entered during medieval times.
In 18th century Spain and Southern France, the historical period of Le Marquis, they were frequently arrested and imprisoned. Though stereotypically known for their passion, temper, and disrespect for the law, some gypsies eventually became Christians.
Thus, this man of the upper classes has tacit permission to torture Zynga who was sentenced to the guillotine anyway.
Important, however, is her stoicism. As we progress through the story, she may scream from physical pain, but she never weeps while enduring it. Zynga reflects her people, unwanted and familiar with the lowest of societal conditions that requires them to live by their wits.
There's one more significant point. Founded in Greece during the Age of Alexander, the stoic philosophy precedes Christianity and contributes to it. If Zynga is a Christian, the marquis' love/hate relationship with her is understandable because he has a personal disgust for the Church.
In fact, the aristocrat acknowledges Zynga's stoicism. When she is crucified he observes, "Only she knows the intensity of her pain, but she does not speak of her agonies."
Oh yes, it is curious that gypsies in Celtic England were known as, you guessed it, Irish Travelers. Their pre-Christian existence doves tails with the vampire legends that pervade Pachamama's Dead But Dreaming, keeping the nomadic gypsy alive pre- and post-Christianity and allowing the doomed Romani in Le Marquis to represent a foil to the faith.
Back to the Roses
Allowing his eyes to feast on Zynga's naked and welted image, the marquis says, "I dwell upon the picture. I'm fired by it. I approach her lips but dare to kiss them, but I do not."
In fact he can't because of what she represents: the wrong done to him by his imprisonment. The gypsy and the nobleman are reflections of each other, share a similar fate, and are separated only by that which gives the him the singular right to torture: social class.
It's a power play that is as old as history itself.
He asks, "Do you like this? Do you want to do it again? Are you going to do better?"
Is he talking about her submission and the pain he inflicts or her eagerness to sexually accommodate him . . . or both? We don't know but the gypsy has an answer.
She nods slightly in hopes of upping her chances of survival. The whipping commences again.
Christians regard lilies as purity, the symbol of the Virgin Mary. Red roses, often attached to romantic love, also represent the blood of those martyred by their faith. As he ratchets up her pain, the nobleman sips the red wine associated with Christian passion while denying it to Zynga in a mockery of her plight.
When he relents and puts the glass to her lips, is she drinking the blood that drains from her slowly as the narrative weaves its way to its conclusion?
Weaving his sadistic desires into his scorn for the Church and his social class attitude toward gypsies, the marquis shapes the film into a chilling drama haunted by a woeful, plaintiff musical score whenever the torture is reignited.
The Dangling Rope
The gypsy remains a prisoner manacled to the pillar overnight, just as the Irish traveler in Dead lingers in her predicament. The images of slow suffering arouse an exciting admiration of the whip.
Zynga is only beginning her tribulations, of course, and a central image reappears often: the rope that lords over the Marquis' cell.
He writes that the accused criminal finds herself in his "cavern" and "from a traverse beam dangled a rope in the center of this room of torture and which as very soon you will see, was there for no other purpose than to facilitate my dreadful and costly expeditions."
It will accommodate the gypsy's torments. She is caned while in strappado and later in classic BDSM style is punished again with body exposed and arms over head.
Almost in celebration, her presence makes him "wild with lust," the marquis remarks casually, and another whipping begins.
In the next post, we'll get some input from the filmmakers and take a look at the rack scene.
Tagged as Amy Hasketh, Dead But Dreaming, female torture, female whipping, Jac Avila, Justine, Le Marquis de la Croix, Maleficarum, Marquis de Sade, Ollala, Pachamama Films, Romani, strappado
The Women of Justine: Part Two
by Rich Moreland, March 2017
In this second post on the interviews with Jac Avila, Mila Joya, and Beatriz Rivera, the challenges they encountered in performing in Justine are explored.
My thanks are extended to Pachamama/Decadent films for providing the many screen shots used in all of my posts on Justine.
For those interested in my review of the film, check the blog archives for December, 2016.
Jac Avila faced a not-so-common hurdle in making Justine. "It's always a challenge to direct [a film], but to act and direct at the same time makes things a lot more difficult," he says.
But there is another concern the average viewer rarely considers: the ethical demands a director faces when shooting torture scenes.
This happened with Justine which imposed a stressful decision on Jac Avila.
"Asking the leading ladies to engage in terrible acts," he remarks, required him to "direct the film as Rodin," the sadist, not as his real self, that of artist and filmmaker.
The result? Ethical issues forced their way into his thinking.
"As a director and human being, you have to be very careful when they [the performers] are subjected to all kinds of evil deeds, like torture, but you can't show that concern as an actor. In fact, you have to show that you are relishing your evil doings. That was the most difficult part for me, how to be a gentleman, a scholar, a respected director while subjecting my leading actresses to unspeakable acts and enjoy it all as Rodin."
Trust and Experience
From her perspective, Beatriz Rivera had to deal with adjustments during filming that were not unexpected, but stressful nevertheless.
"The most challenging [aspect] for me was to think as Omphale and not as Beatriz.
"[Being] naked takes you away from your character, especially when there are others around like the extras and crew," Bea says. "It's hard to be naked in front of a lot of people, so getting back to the character in those conditions was the challenging part."
But there's also the torture element.
"During the tortures the most difficult part was to be bound, defenceless. That was the hard part, but there was a lot of trust too, that made it easier."
Mila Joya reflects on her experience shooting these types of movies. For those who don't know, she is the condemned and flogged gypsy in Le Marquis de la Croix, an eternally tortured vampire in Dead But Dreaming, and the agony-ridden Maria Francisca, who along with Amy Hesketh's Mariana, is whipped, racked, and crucified in Maleficarum.
"The whole movie is one big challenge, but for me it wasn't that difficult because I had similar experiences like in Maleficarum. So the challenge for me was to create a different character, not similar to any other in previous movies," Mila comments.
And, so she does. In Dead she's the angry vampire trapped for centuries in sexual submission; in Maleficarum, Mila is a wronged and tragic figure caught in a period of Protestant/Catholic conflict. Both are much different from the doomed Rosalie of Justine, a victim of incest and sacrifice.
Speaking of crucifixions, by the way, Justine ends with a spectacular one in which Mila as Rosalie wears a crown of thorns.
The Closed Group
My question about how performers influence each other on-set produced three different views.
Bea offers this point. "The way others play the characters give you a cue as to how to react to them, that helps. We helped each other. For instance to be comfortable enough to ask your torturer to hit you harder with the whip, to feel it more, that helped me to play the character [of Omphale]."
Mila, a veteran of the Pachamama/Decadent Films troupe, believes "the closed group of the three of us" produced the energy to move the film forward.
"All three [roles and actresses] were very different. That had an influence in how I played my character. Not everything is in the script so there are reactions to actions and sometimes you surprise yourself with your reactions to the others. The director influenced one way, with his instructions, but as an actor he had a different influence, especially in how I had to react to him as my father and lover," Mila asserts.
As expected, Jac lends his director/actor persona to the question.
"There's always the influence of the others in how you perform your role and you have to be prepared [in turn] to influence [them]."
But such a forthright statement comes with a caution.
"I used the opportunity of being the dominating character to direct the actors in the ways I wanted them to perform while being painfully aware of how their reactions to my actions were causing the scene to go in a different direction than originally intended," he admits.
"That's always a very interesting thing to experience. How the story follows a road that was not planned at all, in an organic kind of way."
My final thought is about independent film. Pachamama/Decadent Films is an indie company with committed, high-energy people.
What are the advantages and drawbacks to shooting an indie product?
Mila and Bea mirror each other's thoughts in that they are of Bolivian origin and not products of the Hollywood scene.
"I can't say anything about that. In Bolivia all movie making is independent, so I wouldn't know. But there's more freedom in independent cinema," Mila predictably answers.
"Independent films use different subjects, unlike Hollywood that does a lot of the same adventures, the same romances, the same fantasies. So there's magic in independent cinema. However, only independent films are made in Bolivia so I would not know of disadvantages." Bea comments.
Jac proclaims that independent filming provides the freedom to shoot as he personally desires unencumbered by studio heads and the people with backing money known as producers . . . which brings up the main drawback of indie projects.
There's never enough money, Jac says, which means "there's a lot of compromising on the way to the end of production. Nothing is exactly how you envision it because you don't have the cash to do what you originally wrote and conceived. You depend on what your available resources give you."
But he hastily adds, "That, in turn, becomes an advantage, because it challenges you to be extremely creative."
Finally, don't forget that indie film requires everyone be on board to help with the production.
For a last word on Justine, Jac Avila reminds us once again that the story is a parody of a parody and that means filming can be a lot of fun.
Looks like Amy is hatching a plan with a little mirth of her own in mind!
In the next two posts we'll talk with Amy Hesketh about her views on filmmaking, directing and her psychological take on suffering . . . not to mention the easily perceived sadomasochist elements that drive a part of her fan base.
Tagged as Beatriz Rivera, Boliva, Dead But Dreaming, independent film, Jac Avila, Justine, Le Marquis de la Croix, Maleficarum, Mila Joya, Pachamama/Decadent Films
I Only See Darkness: Jac Avila's Justine, Part Four
by Rich Moreland, December 2016
SPOILER ALERT! The final resolution of Justine is right around the corner!
The installments of this five-part review are posted as a package but designed as stand alone essays, so you may read the ones you like and forgo the others.
All photos are courtesy of Pachamama/Decadent Films.
Pachamama Films/Decadent Cinema combines erotic horror and soft core S&M action within a framework of classical literature, a rare adventure in movie making.
Dead But Dreaming's vampire legends, Ollala (based on Robert Louis Stevenson's vampire tale by the same name), and Barbazul (Charles Perrault's "Bluebeard") represent avant-garde indie film that offers timeless story telling infused with adult themes.
And don't forget, Amy Hesketh's performance art lures everyone into her cauldron of sexuality and pain that marks (pun intended) the excitement of these productions.
Amy's talent is on full display again in Justine. Undoubtedly her interpretation of the suffering feminine is hard on her body and eventually she will decide enough is enough. So if watching Amy on-screen is your pleasure, be sure to get a copy of this film.
Having said that, Justine, sparks conversation in another way.
Following the footprint of the films mentioned above, Justine carries a political message steeped in images that are literary and mythological.
Let's take a brief look at a few examples.
First, the movie's most dynamic image, the restrained and punished woman, surpasses other Jac Avila creations with the possible exception of Maleficarum.
Amy Hesketh, Mila Joya, and Beatriz Riveria are easy on the eyes and offer the visual delights of a good whipping that S&M aficionados appreciate.
But that's for just for starters. There's more.
Take the archetypal number three, the staple of myth and legend which accounts for its dominance in the Bible. Jac Avila follows Sade's lead in exploring it.
The novel mentions twenty-one victims (three sevens) consumed in the prison fire. Adulthood is also age twenty-one, a hint that when Justine escapes from prison, she is old enough to take responsibility for her decision-making, or more specifically her inaction, in a theme that runs through Sade's work.
Also, the dungeon candle stands have combinations of threes and sixes cleverly placed among the torture devices.
Jac Avila focuses on three sacrificial victims to create his religious motif.
Each girl is bound to the wheel reminding the viewer that while a patriarchal God may oversee the world, women are the source of a never-ending circle of virtue and vice–reproduction on one hand and sexual temptation on the other–that drives the human condition.
Thus we have the wheel's most important message. Civilization's male-dominated hierarchies insist that female sexuality is not to be trusted, so women must be confined and chained rather than celebrated.
By the way, trust makes its appearance at the end of the film in an ironic twist. But you'll have to watch the movie to see it.
Speaking of sacrifices, after Rosalie's dungeon crucifixion her stigmata wounds are treated by Omphale and Justine in a scene reminiscent of the three women at Calvary (Golgotha) recounted in the gospels.
Then, of course, there's Jac's version of the three crosses we'll see later.
The Sacred Feminine or Defiant Feminist?
White is the color of purity and the girls wear white loincloths depicting the partially clad martyr linked to the Medieval crucifixion image. Only Justine is nude.
In this modern interpretation of Sade's novel, she is both virtue and vice, honoring the complete woman and validating her defiance of patriarchy despite her humiliation.
In other words, Justine is totally exposed, the literary "everywoman."
When the abused girls retreat to their bed, the configuration of their bodies is a reminder of the Holy Trinity with the God/Daughter shift illustrated by Rosalie's suffering.
The importance of the sacred feminine in Church lore cannot be easily dismissed.
However, this scene is part of a series of images that begins in the dungeon with the chained and collared Justine grabbing vainly for Rodin in a fit of vengeance. She is defiant and frustrated, the angry feminine, or in modern terms, feminist.
Then we see the Trinity motif just mentioned.
At first the girls are looking away from each other, individualized in their agony, emphasizing the misery and abandonment that is part of the human condition.
But they eventually join hands in spirit as well as in truth, an affirmation that the sacred feminine will prevail.
Imagistically, they form their own wheel with their overlapping hands on Justine's hip as the hub.
Leonardo's Perfection
It's worth mentioning that Jac Avila's woman on the wheel is a vague reference to Leonardo da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man," perhaps suggested by the filmmaker more unconsciously than deliberately.
Simply put, each girl represents the Renaissance thinker's harmonic blend of art and science that ultimately spawned the Age of Enlightenment and, ironically, the Marquis de Sade.
In this film the female image emerges perfect in form while tormented with pain, as Justine reminds us with her harsh condemnation of Biblical tenets.
We can conclude then that Justine is a full-fledged challenge to the Church and its intrusion into the pre-theological State of Nature that Sade celebrates. Jac Avila has given us pause to reconsider Sade's argument.
We have a broader question, of course, that is too much to consider here. Is the perfect female form and its corresponding consciousness a creation of Nature or God? Or both?
Cutting Across Time
The confrontation between female suffering and empowerment, the heart of this story, cuts across time.
Here are some of the examples.
In I Only See Darkness: Part Two of this review, we see twenty-first century vehicle tires abandoned on the side of the road, a comment on Justine's situation.
Then there is Rodin's modern bottle of beer in the dungeon scene, though bottled beer was known in Sade's day. As the film comes to its denouement, Rodin wears sunglasses not available in the eighteenth century. Combine those images with a wife-beater shirt and the macho persona of the alpha male (God?) steps into view.
Also, we have the brass bed (a Victorian invention) that post-dates Sade. But it is appropriate here because the Victorians muted female sexuality, giving rise to Freudian theory on hysteria, repression, and sexual anxiety.
The costumes are eclectic. In the dungeon scenes, for instance, Rodin sports the aforementioned wife-beater shirt, a Hollywood staple reaching back to the 1930s.
Incidentally, Amy Hesketh cobbled the wardrobe together for the film . . . not a simple task.
Now we know why Jac Avila breaks the fourth wall repeatedly. His message transcends the here and now and goes well beyond the story at hand. What better way to reinforce the narrative's timelessness than addressing the viewer directly, cutting through the limitations configured by the camera's lens.
So, that's a quick run-down of some of the symbolism incorporated into the Justine narrative.
We're set now to venture into our last installment for the dramatic conclusion Jac Avila has crafted for this version of the Sadean saga. He deviates from Sade somewhat but retains the flavor of the novel to its bitter end.
A reminder. If you don't want to know how everything turns out, skip the next post!
For the curious, Amy often crafts the torture instruments including racks, whips, and the like that appear in all Pachamama/Decadent Films.
Getting a feel for the whips is something BDSMers would understand.
By the way, in making Justine, testing the wheel was vitally important, as you might expect.
Amy Hesketh can be reached on Facebook and followed on twitter. Jac Avila is also on twitter.
Tagged as Amy Hasketh, Barbazul, Beatriz Rivera, Charles Perrault, Dead But Dreaming, Feminism, Jac Avila, Justine or the Misfortunes of Virtue, Mila Joya, Ollala, Pachamama/Decadent Films, Robert Louis Stevenson, The Marquis de Sade
Jac Avila, Part Three: The Body in Pain
by Rich Moreland, August 2016
My thanks to Jac avila for sharing his views on film making and culture. I look forward to reviewing more of his work in the future.
All photos in this and the preceding posts are courtesy of Pachamama Films and Decadent Cinema. Vermeerworks is their distributor.
Jac and Amy Hesketh on the set of the upcoming film, Justine
A Set of Values
In Jac Avila's films there is a distinct theological undercurrent. In helping us understand how it complements his work, Jac begins with a snapshot of religion and society.
"Catholicism in South America and most of Europe, particularly Italy and Spain, is more a part of culture than religion," he explains. For many of the faithful, it's "a set of values," a good mixture of belief with "plenty of mythology" tossed in, "most of it not taken seriously."
"However, when one grows up inside Catholicism, one is taught to love that culture," he declares, though it "tries unsuccessfully, to repress a large part of one's humanity, like sexuality."
Of course, Christianity is closely linked to suffering . . . a natural human state. But, then again, so is sexuality. Is there a connection?
Blood Sacrifice
"In Catholic culture, the body in pain plays a crucial role with Christ at the center," Jac continues. It's really "blood sacrifice as redemption."
This idea dates back to the Early Middle Ages as the church was making the transition from its birth in the Roman Empire to its place as Europe's centralized institution.
But we need to remember that crucifixion, the ultimate "body in pain" statement, was around long before Christianity. That Christ and some of the Saints were crucified is more coincidental to their condemnation during Roman times when dying on the cross was the established demise for society's outcasts and outlaws.
Mila Joya's character faces death in Dead But Dreaming's flashback to Roman times.
From there, the diabolical combination of torture and death moved out of the Roman Empire into the next historical period.
"In medieval times this (The Body in Pain) symbol took over. Executions were cruel and public, so was penance," Jac reminds us.
Incidentally, the public fascination with death lingered into the 19th century as Jac illustrates in Dead But Dreaming when the Irish traveler is garrotted before onlookers.
Jac then cites the distinction between the Catholic and Protestant interpretation of sexuality.
"Catholic imagery is full of The Body in Pain, a beautiful body, always, either male or female, almost nude or totally nude, with an expression of bliss in the very moment of martyrdom."
Elaborating on the visual impact of a crucifixion, Jac explains, "The school I attended was full of those images. Beautiful paintings expressing exactly that. Catholicism is far less repressed sexually than Evangelical, Calvinist, Lutheran Christianity."
He follows that thought with a quick history lesson.
"The framing of the body in medieval Europe, was intrinsic to the historical moment. Humanity was moving from an agrarian culture to the beginnings of city culture. Social interactions were changing dramatically. The image of the body as symbol became pervasive," he says.
Jac regards the 12th century (1100s) as a pivotal time in the emergence of the body as art.
"The Church had the most power in influencing most everything," he notes, which lasted until the Renaissance, a time "when art flourished and thought was liberated by Thomas de Aquinas (Catholic theologian and Scholastic) when he gave some long overdue importance to humans."
For the most part, Medieval art is purely religious with Christ "an overpowering figure taking up the entire frame," Jac suggests.
In other words, man is not celebrated. The heavenly bliss of eternity and the proper way to get there occupied Medieval artists, who, incidentally, never signed their work.
By the Renaissance, change was on the horizon. The ideals of humanism were infused into culture, at least in the Italian City-States where money patronized the arts. The result? Art and literature achieved a secular focus.
As for art's theological representations, Jac gives us this example. We see the Virgin Mary as "a real woman breast-feeding a child," a cultural broadening influenced by Aquinas.
And somewhere along the way, our sexual fascination with crucifixion and suffering took hold.
So, what about the sacred feminism popular in pre-Christian cultures? I suggest the Church patriarchy had some issues with this idea. Jac spins it less severely.
"Catholic doctrine did not do away with the Divine Fem all together. Mary was and is an object of worship almost equal to God, she's more accessible; she is the mother. But yes, women were repressed of course, but so were men. The great fear is the true liberation of mankind. We're all afraid of freedom. I don't think we'd know what to do with it."
The Church's fear of witches and it's repression of women in Maleficarum's execution scene.
I agree with the repression/freedom argument. Certainly the Church did not abide heresies and especially witches and warlocks. By the 15th century the Inquisition (the subject of Jac's film, Maleficarum) was holding court. Credit Spain's Ferdinand and Isabella for making sure everyone toed the religious line.
Inquisition torture extracts a confession from Amy Hesketh's character in Maleficarum.
Regardless, Jac steps up his defense of the Sacred Feminine.
"In Catholicism women have a high place because of the Virgin, The Mother of God herself. Catholicism is not as patriarchal as it may seem to be. What we may be expressing is that women, just like men, have the same or more capacity to suffer for humanity.
"In that sense, female martyrdom gets equal treatment… or better yet, takes the main role. The strongest character in Catholicism is Saint Eulalia. She's crucified twice."
Of interest is that the original St. Elulia, the reference in Jac's film Martyr discussed in a previous post, was, according to legend, a teenage virgin tortured and crucified on a St. Andrew's Cross.
Carmen Paintoux in Martyr.
So there we have it. Do the images from Jac's films energize the sexual question?
The Guignol Again
Despite the Church's efforts, the uneducated retained their superstitions and out of this, particularly in Central Europe, phantasmagoric visions and stories emerged of evil forces beyond human control.
"As you know, most of the horror stories, like vampires, come from the old tales of old Europe, which come from far back in time," Jac points out.
Veronica Paintoux as the Lamia.
And as we move from Medieval into modern times, with stops for the Enlightenment and Romantic Periods, superstition and the supernatural forces that go bump in the night linger in the human psyche.
It's not a leap to understand that our world is still fascinated by cruelty, especially sexual torture, and can't look away.
Our repressed blood lust comes to life with vampire stories and today's slasher films which tap into horror as it emerged out of the Victorian Age into modern Europe.
But we don't need the fantastic to energize our sexual interests. Human depravity played out realistically on a stage will do.
"The Grand Guignol has its roots in that period of time where executions were performances for the masses. That's why Guignol was also described as the Theatre of Cruelty," Jac explains.
In fact, the Parisian stage and the fascination with crucifixion fuel the star power of Amy, Mila Joya, and the Paintoux sisters, Carmen and Veronica.
Brew the mixture of history, religion, and sex into a cauldron of savagery and sadism and what emerges is a new version of the erotic horror genre that is distinctly Jac's and Amy's, Olalla being the latest in a line of powerful films.
Framing the Body
"Not everything medieval was cruelty, of course," Jac continues.
"There was a nurturing, serene, body sharing space with a conflicted body torn by desires, fantasies and that other body, the one in pain, dismembered, racked, whipped. The education of the masses by framing the body became all important."
Mila Joya's character exemplifies "the body in pain" in Maleficarum . . .
Finally, the native Bolivian offers these comments on Amy's Hesketh's approach to her acting.
"As far as Amy's performance in the films, like in Dead But Dreaming or Olalla I can say that those scenes are the way they are because of the stories. This goes to the Body in Pain discussion. The body as a central symbol in culture, but as it was seen in medieval culture, where much of the representations we have now originate."
. . . As does Amy Hesketh in the film's roasting scene, a particularly difficult and emotional shoot.
That is where Amy seduces the camera like no other actor.
To reassure the fainthearted, Jac leaves us this note about female performers in his films. Yes, they illustrate the Grand Guignol stage, as noted above, and all its perceived brutality, but there is more.
"Acting in these movies is, in a sense, empowering. The actress has complete control over her body, mind, and soul, to do anything she wants to do."
That in itself is an empowering feminist statement.
Amy, Jac, and Mila . . . artists, innovators, and a new film intelligensia.
Tagged as Amy Hesketh, Carmen Paintoux, Catholicism, Dead But Dreaming, Decadent Cinema, Grand-Guignol, Jac Avila, Justine, Maleficarum, Martyr, Mila Joya, Olalla, Pachamama Films, Renaissance, St. Elulia, the body in pain, Thomas de Aquinas, Vampires, Vermeerworks, Veroncia Paintoux
Jac Avila, Part Two: That Fantastic Thing
In this post, we'll find out about Jac Avila's background and his view on the female characters he creates.
Jac Avila as actor.
Jac Avila is of international stock. His father was from Holland and his mother, Bolivia, giving him a heritage that is Dutch, Spanish, Basque, and French.
Born in Bolivia, Jac grew up in a Catholic society, a culture that takes on its own identity and values which many Americans don't grasp. We tend to compartmentalize religion, often limiting it to merely attending church, and don't see it as a larger social/cultural ingredient in our lives.
On the other hand, a Catholic society is overarching, emphasizing spiritual issues without negating worldly values. For example, it insists that learning take center stage in a child's life.
"I was educated in the most exclusive Jesuit school in La Paz," Jac points out with pride. "The education was secular with a big emphasis on science. No conflict there. As a matter of fact, Jesuit priests were very much ahead in everything. The religious aspects of our education was a mixture of ethics, morals, mysticism and the understanding that a great part of the Bible is rather symbolic and mythological."
Sadly, his mother passed away before Jac entered his teenage years. His father moved Jac and his brothers to New York City where the future actor/director/producer studied movie making, art, and photography.
The Blue Buick
"After graduation I started working at CBS and later at a photo studio specializing in advertising. I quit my job in 1979 to become an independent filmmaker. By 1982 I was making my first film in Haiti and Cuba by way of New York and Miami," Jac explains.
The film premiered at Cannes in 1988.
"It took me that long to make it," he confesses, not surprising under the circumstances.
Facing expenses that can easily derail projects, Jac spent most of his time doing what indie filmmakers learn is part of the game: meeting the right people and raising money.
The film was Krik? Krak! Tales of a Nightmare which Jac co-produced and directed with Vanyoske Gee. Jac characterizes the production as "a surreal/expressionist docu-nightmare" about the brutal regime of Haiti's Papa Doc Duvalier that includes the spiritual aspects of Haitian culture.
The work, though difficult, answered "a more political, radical call" for him, Jac declares, and was definitely a "challenge."
And rewarding . . . the critics received it favorably.
"Le Cahiers Du Cinema, foremost film magazine in France described it as a great horror film in the tradition of Witchcraft Through the Ages," Jac remembers.
From there he made a television mini-series and a handful of documentaries before shooting a "'performance'" video, an inexpensive "project that started something unexpected that built everything" he is currently doing.
Jac explains how it happened.
When he was visiting Cuba, he developed a script about a young woman during the island's colonial days who "has fantasies about being a martyr," a practice common in "the traditional holy week procession."
Carmen Paintoux had the lead role in Jac's mini-series at the time and they discussed staging the girl's fantasy for video. "During that process, she created Camille who is the central character in Martyr," Jac says.
The short film was born and the budding filmmaker's career took on a new direction.
A remarkable journey for a little boy who saw his first movie at age four. Its violence left an impression. The Film? Walt Disney's Bambi.
"I don't remember anything before the movie. I remember everything after the movie, even the song that was playing on the radio when my uncle drove us back home in his blue Buick.
"From that moment on all I wanted in life was to know about that fantastic thing I experienced that day."
Magic to Art
Considering what he's told me, I ask Jac if he designs his films to be political and religious commentaries.
"Not necessarily," he begins. "Art is beyond those limiting systems. While religion tries and fails to interpret the unknown and the mysterious, politics often try, earnestly, to fit a square into a triangle, with fatal results."
Having said that, Jac admits his explanation may sound "a bit simplistic, since both religion and politics are mechanisms humanity uses to organize itself into something manageable."
"In a way, mankind created gods to control itself," he believes. But in time, more practical attitudes took shape and the overarching role of the gods receded in favor of elected leaders in civilizations like Classical Greece, for example.
Nevertheless, there is a magic to art, Jac insists.
"Art interprets what we see and turns everything on its head, art can also imagine a million futures and a million pasts. We don't mock religion or politics [in our films], it's just our artistic view of humanity.
"I honestly hope that our audience enjoys our movies for what they are and take from them what they feel like taking. I don't really mind if they hate our movies. I love it if they love them. I hate it if they are indifferent."
The Heroines
Fair enough. Now what can we say about women as they are presented in a Pachamama film? Are they captives of their own compulsions, unable to forge their own destinies, as might seem at first glance?
Jac gives us his view, beginning with Ollala.
"Olalla and Ofelia (Olalla's sister) are not weak because women are not weak. This nonsense of the weaker sex is just that, nonsense. Patriarchy is a response to that strength. At one point men felt the compulsive need to control women first and other men second."
With a moment's pause, he adds, "Religion and politics are attempts to control, to make everything fit a pattern that can be controlled. That's a very primitive view of life."
It just so happens that when it comes to Church and society, the simpler, the better.
"There's nothing more scary than women taking over, like in Olalla when she sucks the blood out of her boyfriend. It scares even women, so they have to burn Olalla's mother," Jac says.
What about the other films we've mentioned?
Jac has his thoughts.
"The female vampires in Dead But Dreaming survive cruel torment, the accused witches overcome their death sentences in Maleficarum."
"Is Varna [in Dead But Dreaming] taking the route Moira took? Will Justine go on after her ordeal is over?"
Jac states that women in his films are his main focus, and I might add, his source of strength.
"The principal characters in all my movies, including Krik? Krak! are, for some reason, women. They are the heroines in all my stories. Men take second place either as aggressors or victims.
"Even in the miniseries El Hombre de la Luna, where I play the central character, an attorney/painter investigating the death of a young woman, the women in the story solve the problem and rescue the attorney from certain death."
But Jac's women do suffer and it seems to have a sexual theme. So how does pain work into the art he and his filming partner Amy Hesketh create?
We'll look at that next.
Tagged as Amy Hesketh, Carmen Paintoux, Dead But Dreaming, El Hombre de la Luna, Haiti, Jac Avila, Krik? Krak! Tales of a Nightmare, Maleficarum, Martyr, Ollala, Vanyoske Gee
Jac Avila, Part One: A Working Relationship
Recently I've reviewed two erotic horror films, Dead But Dreaming and Olalla, products of the independent film companies, Pachamama Films and Decadent Cinema.
This post begins a three-part series on actor/producer/director Jac Avila whose business imprint is Pachamama Films.
Here he discusses his professional relationship with Amy Hesketh.
Jac Avila and I have some common theatrical interests, among them the Parisian theater of fear and terror, the Grand Guignol. Pachamama's take on the horror genre is influenced by the Guignol stage.
"We're very much inspired by Grand Guignol," Jac tells me. Since the 1990s, the producer/director has shot "a series of performance videos" that reflect the theater's unique stamp on shock and violence.
As his evolution in film progressed, Jac's work drew the attention of Amy Hesketh, who was building her own erotic on-screen resume.
One of his films, Martyr or The Death of St. Eulalia (2002), became the catalyst for the their artistic collaboration. Though it was made in New York, (Jac maintains dual residences in NYC and La Paz, Bolivia), Amy saw the movie in South America in 2005.
"It made a huge impression on her and that's when she decided to join me in this adventure," he recalls.
At the time, Amy was more into photography than modeling, Jac explains, and had aspirations to write and direct.
Martyr stars Carmen Paintoux, a French actress, whose history with Jac dates to the 1990s. The themes of Christian sacrifice, sadomasochistic relationships, and suffering drive the film and captured Amy's interest.
Subsequently, Jac began a working relationship with Amy, who picked up acting again. She joined French performers, Carmen and Veronica Paintoux, to create a new and innovative indie film narrative.
Amy's first feature as writer and director was Sirwiñakuy, a tale involving an older man and a younger woman in a BDSM relationship. "She wanted Veronica to play the lead character," Jac mentions.
Later films like Barbazul, Dead But Dreaming and Olalla, saw Amy step in front of the camera. Not unusual, he adds, because Amy "puts herself in the more difficult roles" much to the delight of her fans.
In the movies I've seen, Amy dominates the lens. I asked Jac about her motivation to play parts which appear, at least on the surface, to be masochistic. Jac has some suggestions, but makes it clear he cannot speak for her entirely.
"The characters she plays appeal to her, yes, and at the same time scare her," he begins.
Jac mentions Justine, a character in a film by the same name yet to be released. It's based on the de Sade novel, so the sadomasochistic corruption of the innocent steps forward as one would expect.
Due to Justine's "religious stubbornness" Amy doesn't have a glowing opinion of the girl as she appears in the novel, Jac remarks. In fact "Amy thought she was an idiot." However, he adds, "as in any art, a part of us is in those characters and a part of our experience is expressed in them."
"In some cases it becomes cathartic," he believes.
An interesting thought which I think is clear in Amy's portrayal of Olalla and her role in Maleficarum, a film involving witch torture.
According to Jac, "Amy plays what appears to be submissive roles, although I see them more like women in peril type of characters, they do not submit, they are forced into their particular ordeal. I can even say that some do not go quietly into their 'doom.'"
As heroines, Justine and Olalla are united in that respect, but by different circumstances. Perfect, I might add, for Amy Hesketh's talent.
How much more of that talent we will see on-screen may be waning because Amy is now concentrating on writing and directing. But she has an impressive resume as an actress.
"The way she prepared herself for her roles in the movies we made is impressive," Jac remarks.
Bodies and Minds
That brings up another topic which needs clarification. Amy Hesketh and the other actors in the Pachamama troupe, Mila Joya and Veronica Paintoux, in particular, are whipped, tortured and crucified. So, are they the darlings of the BDSM crowd who might flock to see their films?
"I don't think our films fit into what would be the traditional BDSM genre, except perhaps for Sirwiñakuy, which is about an S&M relationship, and Pygmalion, that has those elements too," Jac observes.
As a director and actor himself, Jac notes that everyone in the troupe gets to "display different personalities in different films" which is diverse enough to move beyond the dominant/submissive formula.
"When they do get into their characters, they do go into them with intensity and completely, they become those characters for the time of the shooting. In other words, they do put their bodies and minds into them."
Then he offers up a dose of reality.
"I can also say that they do suffer, physically and mentally, during the difficult scenes. The whippings hurt, the crucifixions are very, very uncomfortable and even painful. There's a lot of real suffering going on. I do not think that any of them enjoy that, they put up with it for the art."
The Liberating Part
Of course, Pachamama/Decadent productions have their share of naked female flesh that some viewers may consider to be on the border of softcore porn.
Jac presents his take on that interpretation by referencing the Sexual Revolution of the 1960s and its counterculture.
The films of that era represented "an explosion on the face of Catholicism," he notes. They were a part of the "cultural movements of the time," in which new artistic and strident voices captured the day.
"In Europe and South America the rallying cries were the movements of liberation from whatever people felt they needed liberation from. Soon, in both worlds, the sexual revolution took over."
With that, Jac Avila is blunt.
"Nudity in our films is the liberating part. People are still traumatized by nudity, it baffles me, so we put in on their face, warts and all."
That is good news for all of his and Amy's fans.
Jac Avila can be found online at jacavila.blogspot.com.
All Jac and Amy films are distributed by Vermeerworks.
Tagged as Amy Hesketh, Barbazul, BDSM, Carmen Paintoux, Dead But Dreaming, Decadent Cinema, Jac Avila, Justine, Martyr or The Death of St. Eulalia, Olalla, Ollala, Pachamama Films, Sirwinakuy, The Grand-Guignol, Veronica Paintoux


text:
Do Not Use world news
Turkey: Five dead as blast blamed on Kurdish militia
The country remains on high alert after multiple attacks on its soil have killed well over 200 people.
By: AFP | Ankara |
June 9, 2016 10:00:58 am
A damaged police station is seen after a car bomb attack in Midyat in southeastern Mardin province, Turkey, June 8, 2016. Reuters
Five people including a pregnant policewoman were killed in a car bombing in Kurdish majority southeastern Turkey, a day after a deadly attack hit Istanbul.
Both bombings targeted Turkish police and have been blamed on Kurdish rebels who have been waging an insurgency against the state since decades.
A massive plume of black smoke rose from the rubble of the police station after yesterday's attack in the town of Midyat near the Syrian border.
A spokesman for the Turkish presidency, Ibrahim Kalin, said it was too early to attribute blame but Prime Minister Binali Yildirim blamed the "killer PKK", referring to the outlawed rebel Kurdistan Workers' Party.
[related-post]
Watch Video: What's making news
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=videoseries?list=PLrDg7LoYgk9wv_QK-mHWFxTf8Y52LVsNB%5D
"We will fight them both in urban centres and rural areas with determination," he said.
The Anatolia news agency said dead included two police officers, including a pregnant woman. At least 51 people were injured.
The car – loaded with half a tonne of explosives – drove at the Midyat police station and blew up when police opened fire to stop it, the private Dogan news agency reported.
Turkey remains on high alert after multiple attacks on its soil that have killed well over 200 people in the past year and have been blamed on, or claimed by, Kurdish rebels and Islamic State (IS) jihadists.
On Tuesday, a car bombing in the heart of Istanbul killed 11 people, including six police officers and five civilians, the latest in a spate of attacks in Turkey's largest city.
Also Read| Turkey's president approves amendments in constitution, lifts lawmakers' immunity
President Recep Tayyip Erdogan pointed the finger at Kurdish militants for that attack.
"Thousands of heroes" were ready to "defend their people and their country with their lives" against "terrorists", he said in Ankara yesterday.
Yildirim, along with former president Abdullah Gul and opposition leader Kemal Kilicdaroglu attended the funeral yesterday of the slain Istanbul police officers.
Their coffins were draped with red and white Turkish flags as mourners shouted: "Damn terror" and "Martyrs never die and the homeland will never be divided."
A group of mourners staged a protest against Kilicdaroglu, who heads the secular Republican People's Party (CHP), tearing up a wreath he had laid for the victims shouting, "You are a killer!"
Kilicdaroglu has been accused in some quarters of failing to give enough support to the government's Kurdish policy.
The CHP leader lashed out at what he termed a couple of "provocateurs" after the prayers and said one of them hurled a bullet at him before being detained by a plainclothes officer.
Start your day the best way
with the Express Morning Briefing

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
HENRY HANDS TUFTS THE LOSS AT HOME
Amherst 2 Tufts 1
Date: Tuesday, October 9, 2001
Amherst (6-3-1, 4-2-1 NESCAC) 1 1 = 2
SCORING: A, Cathy Poor (Jenny Rossman) 37:50; T, Elizabeth Tooley (Jess Trombly) 54:07; A, Lee-Jay Henry (Sarah O'Keefe) 78:03.
SAVES: A, Brooke Diamond 8; T, Mara Schanfield 6.
CORNER KICKS: A, 3; T, 8.
SHOTS: A, 17; T, 19.
MEDFORD – Freshman Lee-Jay Henry (Springfield, MA) slotted the game-winner in the 79th minute to lift a skillful Amherst side past Tufts, 2-1, in an important New England Small College Athletic Conference (NESCAC) women's soccer match on Tuesday afternoon in Medford.
Henry's second goal of the season was a result of some clever play through the Lord Jeffs' midfield. The move started when Henry herself won the ball around midfield and caught the Jumbos a bit flat in the back as she laid it off for Cathy Poor (Harwich Port, MA) to run onto. Poor played the ball through to the top of the box where Sarah O'Keefe (West Hartford, CT) made the most of the flat defense and played a square ball for Henry to run onto and slot first-time inside Tufts senior keeper Mara Schanfield's (St. Paul, MN) far post.
Poor, the provider for Amherst's game-winner, opened the scoring late in the first half with her team-leading seventh goal of the campaign. Momentum had swayed back and forth in the first half before Amherst forced a corner in the 38th minute of play. Sophomore Jenny Rossman (Newton, MA) swung a dangerous cross into the far post where senior co-captain Poor was left unmarked and took full advantage as she headed strongly past Tufts' keeper Schanfield. Sparked by going down a goal, the Jumbos upped their effort before the whistle but ended the half with a one-goal deficit.
Momentum shifted and chances were squandered on both sides in the early portions of the second half before Tufts pulled back a goal in the 55th minute. Jess Trombly (Nashua, NH) turned with the ball off a throw-in on the right flank and drove the ball across the box. Elizabeth Tooley (Syracuse, NY) was on hand at the far post to volley home her first goal of the season from 12 yards out. The pace of the match hastened noticeably after Tooley's equalizing effort and both sides produced some anxious moments for the other before the Lord Jeffs took the lead for good through Henry's goal.
The crucial result improved Amherst to 4-2-1 in the NESCAC and 6-3-1 overall while it dropped Tufts to 4-3 in the NESCAC and 6-4 overall.


text:
Posted on April 4, 2014 April 4, 2014 by birminghamreview
REVIEW: China Shop Bull + Dantanna, Malarkey @ Wagon & Horses, Sat 29th Mar
Words by John Noblet
Can you remember those World War II soldiers who, isolated from the rest of their army, hid on a deserted island and didn't realise the war had ended, decades after everyone else had finished fighting?
Sometimes music scenes work like that – the media declares something to be over, but a small crew continues with the genre; ignoring its declared death, with the fashionable music scene, in turn, ignoring them.
This is undoubtedly a good thing in my opinion. In Birmingham, if you're in the right place at the right time it can feel like Two Tone never ended. The latest manifestation of this is in front of me tonight at the Wagon and Horses, promoted by Subvert Soundsystem, with relative new comers Malarkey coming on like the delinquent children of The Beat – multi racial line up, culture clash approach to songwriting, varied selection of haircuts (bald head, mohican, corn rows, Sideshow Bob afro) and a pervading cheekiness.
Malarkey's vocalist, Juggernaut, is a pure joy to watch. A large man of Jamaican descent with deep, Ragga inflected vocals (think somewhere between Buju Banton and Ragga Twins) and a ridiculous amount of stage presence. Guitarist, Kyle, contributes lead vocals on some of the songs, his guitar playing showing the influence of 90's Grunge bands, fitting in dirty, sloppy riffs alongside the 'cha cha cha cha' guitar that so many Ska influenced bands get stuck with.
It's a strange mix but it works. Malarkey's distorted guitar and reggae MC aspect is bound to draw comparisons with Skindread, but at present they lack the MTV polish that's so prevalent in the latter. But tonight's slightly chaotic feel is also probably due, in part at least, to the drum kit refusing to stay in one place (a brick is found, and then another, but in the end the bassist has to stand on it to stop it sliding about).
Next up tonight is Hip Hop collective Dantanna, who with four MCs, one female singer, two brass, drums, guitar and a magical-music-box-that-does-all-the-other-bits, pretty much cover the Wagon & Horses' small stage.
Alongside Malarkey, Dantanna are part of the small circle of bands orbiting Daylight Robbery studios in Hockley, and are led by Hip Hop svengali/ageing Superhands, Dan Skins – who this evening wears a strange red blanket with a green children's hat and spends most of the night playing tambourine in a corner of the stage, effectively Bezing himself in his own band.
There have always been some good ideas in Dantanna (musically, their chosen approach of Soul backing and high energy rapping is a pretty effective combination) but tonight is the first time I've seen them really start to capitalise on them. The variety that comes from having five vocalists means you can do a lot to hold people's attention, and for most of their set they work this strategy well; the entertainment factor of seeing them all constantly bouncing around up there is high.
Dantanna have also developed a solid sense of onstage chemistry, and the clowning around feels natural rather than choreographed – at one point two of them finish a song whilst rolling around on the floor together, seemingly not dropping a lyric. The act isn't entirely perfected yet, there's some talking over each other between tracks which causes confusion, but on the whole tonight's audience is impressed.
Finishing up the evening is China Shop Bull, a Leeds based band who have been winning over audiences both in the UK and Europe with their Rave/Ska/Hip Hop/Punk crossover. And although they've been around for years, China Shop Bull have received almost zero press attention, which says more about the inane nature of the modern media than it does about their music.
Tonight the first few songs seem a little flat, and I'm worried they're going to disappoint. Interestingly, the spark that eventually ignites the fire is a spontaneous jam that only occurs when the bassist breaks a string – sounding initially like it's made up on the spot, then morphing into a song of its own accord.
About two thirds of the way through their set, China Shop Bull play their version of the Dead Kennedy's 'Holiday In Cambodia' which instigates a mass sing-a-long, and although their early track, 'Sandblaster', may be lyrically out of date (does anyone blast weed with sand any more to make it heavier anymore? Answers on a postcard…) it definitely has a good effect on the audience, who by this point are looking particularly sweaty and deranged.
And with the occasional attempts at crowd surfing, which turn into lads carrying their mates around on their shoulders whilst everyone else bobs about with silly grins on their faces, overall it's an incredibly fun night. One of the reasons why this small army of misfits keeps getting booked is that they're absolutely great for dancing to, with their mixture of groove and aggression appealing to a surprisingly wide range of people.
Great though the lineup is, the venue deserves some credit here too. If tonight had been held in one of Birmingham's more mainstream venues, with their higher bar prices, low quality booze, overzealous security staff and corporate sponsorship agendas, I feel a lot of the enjoyment factor would have been taken away.
The Wagon and Horses' combination of 80's old man front bar and marquee full of nutters out back, is a winning one for me. And those who are either too timid or too snobbish to give it a go are missing out. Long may it continue.
For more on China Shop Bull, visit https://soundcloud.com/china-shop-bull
For more on Dantana, visit http://www.dantanna.co.uk
For more on Malarky, visit https://www.facebook.com/MalarkeyBand
For more from Subvert Soundsystem, visit https://www.facebook.com/SubvertSoundsystem
For further listings from the Wagon & Horses, visit https://www.facebook.com/wagon.horses
CategoriesThe Cuff
Previous PostPrevious P/REVIEW: Johnny Kowalski & the Sexy Weirdos – Kill the Beast (album launch) @ Hare & Hounds, Fri 4th Apr
Next PostNext PROFILE: Liz Mason @ Reapers Ink, Worcester


Friday, January 29, the Moon visits the sign of Libra all day. We will try to be harmonious and balanced all day. The Moon does goes void-of-course at 7:34 PM.
Moon trines Sun, 2:55 AM: This helps provide a good restful night's sleep! If you are awake, you are looking for something to do!
Moon sextiles Saturn, 1:12 PM: We are keeping focused and getting our task completed this early afternoon. This is a good time to tackle problems that are harder to resolve.
Moon squares Mercury, 5:11 PM: Our energies levels are strong this afternoon if not a bit scattered. Be careful not to over commit yourself. Take some extra time to get to where ever you are going.
Moon squares Pluto, 5:27 PM: Emotions are tense this late afternoon. Take a step back and think about your situation. Words have power so be careful what you say and do as it will have permanent effects.
Moon opposes Uranus, 7:34 PM: We are open minded this evening and ready to have our information needs fulfilled. Don't make commitments you don't want to keep. You will be bored and restless if you do. Keep your schedule flexible.
Mercury conjuncts Pluto, 11:52 PM: We are paying attention to details today. We are like detectives looking for the truth no matter how much we have to dig. This aspect is in effect for the next couple of days as well. This is an excellent time for long term planning, doing research and exposing fallacies.
The Moon now goes void of course in Libra at 7:34 PM until Saturday evening at 9:50 PM. This is a very long void of course Moon. Plan accordingly.


CARFAX BuyBack Guarantee is reassurance that any major issues with this vehicle will show on CARFAX report. Perfect for the on-the-go family, this Lexus GX 460 Luxury L/Certified Unlimited Mile Warranty, Navigation, Luxury Package, Mark Levinson Audio, Blind Spot Monitor is an SUV everyone will love. With exceptional mileage, options and power, you'll insist on driving it on all your outings.
For those who are ready to drive something more than just a car, this Lexus GX 460 Luxury L/Certified Unlimited Mile Warranty, Navigation, Luxury Package, Mark Levinson Audio, Blind Spot Monitor will appeal to their idea of luxury and refinement. Taking the road less traveled has never been more fun than with this 4WD. With improved performance, mileage and acceleration, this 2016 4WD Lexus GX 460 Luxury L/Certified Unlimited Mile Warranty, Navigation, Luxury Package, Mark Levinson Audio, Blind Spot Monitor is king of the off-road.
Drive any city's streets like you've lived there all your life using the navigation system on this Lexus GX 460 Luxury.
The GX 460 is more like a truck than a car-like crossover utility vehicle. It's closely related to the Toyota 4Runner -- so it has body-on-frame construction, an asset for anyone who tows regularly. The GX otherwise stands out for being especially well-equipped with both luxury-car comforts as well as useful off-road aids and safety-tech features. It might also prove more maneuverable and manageable versus a full-size luxury SUV such as a Cadillac Escalade or Lincoln Navigator.
Strengths of this model include comfortable seating, rugged body-on-frame construction, towing ability, available tech and safety features, luxurious interior, and strong powertrain.