Shortbus
The most salient question to ask about John Cameron Mitchell’s movie is: Is the explicit sex necessary? I think the answer is yes. In the context, the penetration and ejaculation on display here feels completely plausible. Even better, it’s unremarkable. In many ways, the movie is a conventional New York-set ensemble indie about people seeking fulfillment in life and relationships; Mitchell just propels and punctuates the story with sex instead of with overwritten dialogue or artificial plot contrivances. His vision is welcoming, humanist, hopeful. The folks are in the movie are outsiders to a degree; hence the title, a reference to the frequently mocked school bus that’s modified for children with disabilities. They need a place to feel at home; that’s what drew them to New York and that’s why they congregate at the club Shortbus, a fanciful nightspot (at least I presume so — I’m not sure how a club like it could make any money) where sex is exchanged like handshakes.
So: Mitchell has managed to make a movie with real, unsimulated sex that’s not at all pornographic, at least as I understand the term. The sex is not gratuitous, nor is it intended merely to titillate. Good for him. Now: Is the movie of interest otherwise? In my view, not really. Mitchell uses nonprofessional actors — presumably out of necessity — and they have some winning moments, but the movie aches for a sustained, fully realized performance. And the story never really engages. As I said, it’s about people seeking fulfillment — a sex therapist who’s never had an orgasm, a dominatrix who’s never been in love, a gay couple at a crossroads in their relationship. Mitchell’s tone is so gentle, and he has such clear affection for his characters, that I never doubted they would ultimately find what they were looking for. Mitchell’s work on “Shortbus” does have one thing in common with porn: He shows greater skill for getting his actors to copulate on camera than for dramatizing conflict or finding humor, surprise or depth of feeling.