It’s one of those humiliating scenarios that can only ever take place in the movies, and when I saw it as a kid, I secretly hoped, wished, dreamed that it would happen to me.
Beverly D’Angelo plays it to perfection in National Lampoon’s European Vacation: as Mrs. Griswold, she performs a sultry if ill-advised torch song/strip tease for hubby before the family’s new video cam, which ultimately leads to their ensuing sex play being accidentally caught on tape when he sets the thing down and neglects to turn it off. While on a European tour, the tape is stolen, and later — to her horror — she discovers the footage has been released theatrically with her front-and-center as a carnal cardboard stand-up.
The title of her unwitting porn debut?
The Slut In The Shower.
The whole thing struck me as so dirty and wrong that I couldn’t help but be turned on by it even though I couldn’t fully grasp all the implications at that age, and as I’ve matured, I’ve found myself entertaining the fancy of something that madcap and implausible happening to me. My conclusion is that I’d probably feign shame while hiding my delight. There was a time when being a Eurosex star held some real cachet. I would completely play up the virgin/whore angle — all smoldering ignominy as I’m exposed in the press and branded a lightning rod for international scandal. Then I’d play it all naive as I’m lured into high-class Europorn by fawning directors who promise my name will be mentioned in the same breath as Brigitte Lahaie and Rocco Siffredi.
Soon enough I’m rechristened with an evocative nom de porn — Papillon or Il Figlio — as I headline international blockbusters about au pairs, tutors, black magic sex cults, student nurses, inheritances, brothels, air stewards, and big incest trial. I become a fixture in the discotheques and a VIP aboard playboys’ yachts. At one point, I become embroiled in a high profile sex-and-drugs scandal, but I coast through it on sheer charisma. Ultimately, I’m successfully elected into the Italian Parliament, the Pope himself condemning me as a wanton whore.
Sadly, though, this will never be. Europorn doesn’t hold the same mystique it once did, and just as the advents of video and DVD made porn easier and less costly to produce, so too has the rise of Web-produced product taken the elan of blue movie stardom down more than a few pegs. You can’t lead a porn double life anymore. Indistinguishable guys named Travis and Dawson are never going to have flings with Bavarian royalty or become entangled in an Arabian oil sheik’s harem by filming twenty-minute scenes in a San Fernando private residence. Every D-List celebrity hanger-on has a low-rent sex tape, and the heydays of Teenage Sex Report, The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein, Disco 9000, and The Fornicon have long gone bye.
And my inner world is that much smaller.
© 2011, Shawn Baker. All rights reserved. Nightcharm.com