Posts Tagged ‘Pornography’

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A Look Inside “Peep World” The Movie

March 26, 2011

I was walking by the IFC theater on Sixth Ave and saw “Peep World” was playing and that it stars Michael C. Hall. I hadn’t heard of it but it sparked my interest and I got inside just as the matinee previews ended.

I don’t love when IFC  shows movies in its black box type theater…the space that seats about 25 people, if that. It’s like watching a big screen tv in a living room filled with strangers.

But “Peep World” more than made up for the cramped quarters. The first genuinely funny, character driven film I’ve seen in months. It’s a dark comedy about the neurotic and dysfunctional adult children of a real estate tycoon. Hard feelings boil to the surface after the youngest child writes a tell-all that includes his married brother’s (played by Michael C. Hall) escapades at an adult entertainment shop.

My favorite moment wasn’t on screen, though. Ten minutes in, the woman two seats down wearing a colorful, furry hat turned to me and asked in a heavy Russian accent, “are you here to see ‘My Perestroika?”

“No, this is ‘Peep World.”

“Oh my Gahd, this ees not eet!”

I wonder what finally tipped her off that she wasn’t at the documentary on Russians who grew up during the Cold War, which was showing in another screening room? All the scenes with Americans driving around with California license plates was probably her first clue…

I helped her as she urgently made her way out the dark theater to actually get to see what she came for.

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“The Accidental Pervert”: A Review

February 2, 2011

Of all things to forge a sacred bond between father and son…tossing a softball in the park, fishing together at a favorite lake, watching the football game on a Sunday afternoon… this is not a shared interest that you’d post pictures of on Facebook. Or document in the family photo album. Or brag about to the grandparents.

You’d be more likely to tell it to a priest. At confession.

In fact, that’s what “The Accidental Pervert” is like. A confession. Andrew Goffman reveals in his one man show that the tie that binds his family is a G string.

Pornography. A father’s legacy. A son’s obsession.

Goffman’s entertaining semi-autobiographical comedy (a true story in which names and certain details are changed to protect the un-perverted) is a trip down a XXX-rated memory lane.

As Goffman tells it, at age 11 he stumbled upon a box of pornographic videotapes tucked away in a closet, left behind by his father who had moved out after a divorce. Curiosity+hormones=the rest of the story.

“No one starts out to be a pervert,” Goffman rationalizes to the audience. But those tapes, a VCR and abundant hours home by himself, turned Goffman’s young life into the Ron Jeremy edition of an after school tv special.

Set in Goffman’s room, circa 1980 and complete with a recliner, Norman Rockwell prints hanging on each wall and Goffman in boxers and a t-shirt,  he speaks directly to the audience, animatedly recounting with the help of some provocative sound effects and props.. and a dose of humility, charm and self-deprecating humor…how porn took over his life, warped his image of women and set him up for the most unrealistic expectations.

By the time the nearly 90 minute performance winds to close, Goffman’s conclusion that it has taken marriage and fatherhood to get him to put aside his penchant for porn and to have a healthy relationship in the living flesh, hardly comes as a surprise. The noteworthy twist is his relationship with his father…this odd, but intriguing and unspoken-between-them connection he now feels toward his father through these videos.  This is where Goffman’s show finds its heart and while drama does not seem to come as naturally to him (Goffman is a former stand up comedian and the comedic elements of his script are more strongly written)  he  succeeds in taking the audience in some unexpected directions.

“The Accidental Pervert” is written and performed by Andrew Goffman and directed by Charles Messina. It runs through June at the Players Theatre located on MacDougal Street in the West Village.