SCREEN BEAT

SCREEN BEAT

IT AIN'T THE MEAT, IT'S THE MOTION

Billy Altman

Let me tell you—your faithful “Screen Beat” reporter was about as psyched as a writer could be for this month’s column. A chance to discuss something actually controversial? To comment on the philosophical debate about the right of the artist to express him or herself as opposed to societal concerns over moral ethics and the possible exceeding of the boundaries of good taste? To try and sensibly explore the always sticky and nebulous realm of censorship? To reflect on the responsibilities of the performer who advocates or condones a certain kind of behavior with the full knowledge that some of the more impressionable portions of his or her audience—those who see the artist as a sort of role model, or even a surrogate parent—may well harm themselves, either emotionally or physically, or both, by engaging in that very behavior? I was going to be able to sink my teeth into all these juicy topics because of a MUSIC VIDEO? A video supposedly “TOO HOT” for MTV? A video by— GEORGE MICHAEL? As in WHAM? As in LOOKS LIKE FIFTH BEE GEE BROTHER? The mind boggled in anticipation.

As news of a “World Video Premiere” airing leaked out, we sprang into a frenzy of activity. The VCR was taken into the shop so we could have our heads cleaned by professionals, all the better to be able to speed search and freeze frame all the reportedly offending passages. We purchased high grade virgin cassette tape, all the better to record and preserve the presumably shocking images. We put notes all around the house to remind us of the big day so we wouldn’t forget our mission; we knew it was our duty to provide an even-keeled perspective on this video about that most provocative of subjects, S-E-... you know. And we feared not.

Finally, the big moment arrives. A prologue produced by MTV gives the “two sides” of the story. Much talk by radio programmers and music industry executives about the spread of AIDS and the dangers of casual “I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you’ll-showme-yours.” Mention is made of the fact that no one seemed to mind it when Frank Sinatra sang “All The Way,” and one person even goes so far as to say that all the trouble is probably attributable to the fact that the song is titled “I Want Your Sex,” thus bringing the damned little word right into the open. Then they show the video, complete with an apparently after-the-fact concilliatory intro by Michael, explaining that “this is not a song about casual sex.” And for the next four minutes, I’m sitting there trying to figure out what all the hysteria is about. There are shots of some (presumably) naked people under satin sheets. Well, I’ve seen that in a John Denver video, for God’s sake, so that can’t be the problem. Then there are some shots of scantily clad female torsos featuring some rear view footage of bouncing tush. Not exactly novel either, eh? I mean, can you recall anything else from a Fabulous Thunderbirds video except scantily clad female torsos and bouncing tushes? Then there are some “art” shots of various areas of the body being splashed with water which, though they might excite toe fetishists in cable TV land, don’t seem very, er, risque. Michael does write some stuff on a girl’s hip and back with red lipstick and maybe that could be construed as aberrant behavior, but, considering the fact that the words he writes are “explore monogamy,” that’d be a bit hard to prove.

So what exactly is the problem here? If this clip was more “explicit” before, and was then edited into a “passable” form for play on MTV, then the channel wouldn’t be making such a big deal out of showing it so that we, the viewers, can “decide” if it’s suitable or not. After all, David Bowie’s “China Girl” had to have a seashore sex scene edited out before MTV would air it and we heard no great outcry from either side when that happened. Precisely who is attacking or defending what insofar as “I Want Your Sex” is concerned is not clear to me at all. I guess I could make some clever joke to end this column, but repression is no laughing matter. Forewarned is forearmed.

SNAP SHOTS

Oops! Wrong Planet! David Sylvian, "Silver Moon”—Or, to paraphrase the guys in the commercial with the beer and the Alaska king crab legs, it doesn’t get any slower than this. David seems like a nice enough chap—hey, I always liked turtlenecks in summer—but not even Malcblm McLaren at his most perverse would dare inflict upon an already hopelessly indifferent world a video this deliberately dull. I mean, I’m as much for blue skies, tall grass, and naked ladies cavorting along mountain tops as the next fellow, but since she’s out of focus for the entire dip, what exactly am I supposed to be relating to here? The Sierra Club? Are you sure this Sylvian character isn’t related to Beaver and Krause? Like I always say—synthesizer players should have to carry a license.. .Nightmare On Surf Street; Wall Of Voodoo, “Do It Again”—Talk about high concept—Brian Wilson awakens from a night of fitful sleep and sees his beloved Beach Boys song turned into a bad dream filled with images of dead fish, roasted pig head masks, bikiniclad mutants force-feeding hot dogs on the end of springs to guys buried up to their necks in the sand, and strange men in pink huarachi sandals playing ukeleles. Of course, what else do you expect from a band whose previous big video featured their lead singer’s head rising out of a vat of refried beans. Dr. Landy, call your office ... Sure, But Can He Get The Other Side Of His Mouth To Do That? Billy Idol, "Sweet Sixteen”—You might remember that the author of this column had the unfortunate task of reviewing Mr. Billy’s latest LP for this magazine and, because the album itself was so dreadful, most of the piece was spent discussing the famous Idol lip snarl. Well, apparently Billy read it, too, because this clip is a regular snarlin' spectacular. My conservative estimate is that Idol contorts his upper smacker no less than 27 separate and distinct times—and I’m not even counting the bridge, in which the lip just hangs there for an uninterrupted 30 seconds! Is this a new world’s record? Will Elvis have to rise from the grave to reclaim the crown as the sultan of snarl? Stay tuned!