Nov 26, 2008 0
The Girlfriend Experience explores porns highs and lows
Penetrable and impenetrable at the same time, the archetypal prostitute remains a compelling riddle to the male psyche.
Rented, but never owned, she inflates and destabilizes the male ego in one blood-draining gesture.
In short, the hooker’s mystique resides - almost entirely - within the masculine mind and its myriad expressions in modern popular culture, from the grotesquely Disney-fied look at flesh-peddling in Pretty Woman, to the lowest common denominator of the lap dance: The gal who provides sex, and genuinely appears to want it, is the fantasy that seems too good to be true.
And as Steven Soderbergh shows us in his latest effort, The Girlfriend Experience, that’s usually because it is.
Prostitutes are just people, and in a lot of cases, pretty average ones at that - resulting in a sizable gap between the desired fiction and the ultimate reality, and it’s in this dizzying, amorphous hole that Soderbergh places his latest narrative.
Lying prone at the centre of the frame is Chelsea (bona fide porn star Sasha Grey), a Manhattan call girl trying to make her way up the clientele ladder.
Bearing a striking resemblance to the woman who bagged former New York governor Eliot Spitzer’s libido and, in turn, his promising political career, Chelsea has a list of regulars that includes several Wall Street brokers, an Orthodox Jew and diamond dealer, and a soft-spoken Hollywood screenwriter.
She’s feeling good about herself and her rising status within the sex-for-money subculture, but poor Chelsea’s personal life is beginning to suffer.
Her ambitious boyfriend Chris (Chris Santos) is trying to make a breakthrough in the world of personal training, but the economic downturn has forced people to count their own pushups - limiting his chances at fitness guru fame.
Ramping up the mental complexity factor are Chelsea’s professional ego needs: She’s trying to become one of the Big Apple’s biggest sex bombs, but in order to do so, she will have to bed the industry’s biggest blogger: A bald, obese furniture salesman with poor hygiene and a foul personality.
Poor Chelsea: She thinks she’s making all the right career moves and finding a way to self-empowerment, when in fact she’s really just selling her body to the highest bidder.
In most movies, Chelsea would be portrayed as the tragic waif without the education or resources to resurrect her self-esteem without the aid of a male millionaire who looks like Richard Gere.
At least that way, she’s likely to seem sympathetic as she sits and listens to the endless droning of her clients, who mostly want to chat her up instead of doing the down and dirty deed.
Yet, in The Girlfriend Experience, Soderbergh makes it undeniably obvious that Chelsea is a little too selfish, and plenty too stupid, to be anything more than a curious casualty of popular culture.
The woman is a total void. When she writes in her diary, she has the depth to document her clothing choice for each date, and little else. She can barely string more than five words together in a single sentence before lowering her eyelids to a suggestive half-mast. It’s like watching a talking Barbie on low-battery for the duration.
At times, you almost want to throw her and her self-absorption across the room in a roundly destructive gesture that will finally make her stop spurting tedious drivel. The rest of the time, you can sit back and appreciate the bigger - and funnier - picture Soderbergh creates just behind the action as he shows us one emotionally needy man after another sucking life-affirmation from a silicon teat.
Who’s more pathetic is hard to figure. Is it the man who dreams of possessing the whore as his very own special love, or the whore who thinks she’s empowering herself by selling limited edition slices of her own soul?
If everyone in this movie weren’t so stupid, selfish and morally vacant, The Girlfriend Experience would have to be a tragedy echoing nothing less than the epic strains of 19th-century French literature.
But Chelsea is a very far cry from Emma Bovary. She’s an utterly empty vessel who elicits no sympathy or emotional response. She’s the embodiment of cheap, meaningless sex elevated to an absurd level of esteem.
One can only hope the sad irony and amusing inanity in the piece were intentional, because that way, Soderbergh gets points for continuing his Sex, Lies and Videotape odyssey into modern sexuality.
On the other hand, if the director thought Chelsea was a truly compelling character deserving of so much attention, The Girlfriend Experience would be a complete flop because she’s mind-numbingly dull, despite her physical assets.