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Tag: Madonna Body of Evidence

  • There Would Be No “Bad Girl” Video Without Diane Keaton

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    Of all Madonna’s many videos, perhaps one of the most standout (while still being simultaneously underrated) for its cinematic qualities is 1993’s “Bad Girl.” And yes, of course, its cinematic nature is due, in part, to David Fincher serving as the director—though Madonna did originally ask Tim Burton to do it. Perhaps because this was fresh off Burton directing Batman Returns, which had just the kind of “dark,” “gritty” aura that Madonna was seeking in order to capture a concept based on something as unflinching as 1977’s Looking for Mr. Goodbar (with a key plot device from Wings of Desire thrown in for good measure).

    In many ways designed to be a cautionary tale against the pratfalls of being a “wayward” woman that dares to sleep with whomever she pleases (and as often as she likes), Looking for Mr. Goodbar was also meant to tap into the stigmas that remain, to this day, lobbed at any woman with the audacity to be so “free.” That is to say, sexually free. And to “punish” her for that freeness, Looking for Mr. Goodbar holds up Theresa Dunn (Diane Keaton) as the perfect example of what “can and will” happen to such a salope. At the time, this messaging resonated immensely with Madonna (even more so than usual), who was being torn limb from limb by the media for her “diabolical” trifecta of sexually-charged releases (no ejaculation pun intended): Sex, Erotica and Body of Evidence. All three projects seemed to prove to the masses that Madonna had not only run out of/overused her material, but that she was crossing an unspoken line of “good taste” that was not meant to be crossed.

    A line crossed in much the same way as Theresa in Looking for Mr. Goodbar, with her story based on the real-life murder of Roseann Quinn. A murder that ultimately compelled Judith Rossner to write a book inspired by it. Released in 1975, it became a bestseller that quickly led to its adaptation into a film by Richard Brooks. In the lead-up to the film’s release, Keaton took an “oath of secrecy,” as it were, about the finer points of the film’s content, commenting to The New York Times, “Richard Brooks, the director wants it that way. I still don’t know why he chose me for the part. He saw some footage of me in Harry and Walter Go to New York, which didn’t exactly get good reviews. Anyway, it’s done now.” And when it was done, oh how it shocked audiences. Particularly the pearl-clutchers. Even if many of those types would have liked to interpret the film as a “morality plea.” Not just that, but a warning to all women of what “free love” a.k.a. sexual pleasure will result in. Of course, for the viewers, like Madonna, that really understood the core of the film’s message, it isn’t saying that at all.

    No, instead Looking for Mr. Goodbar aims to remind people that, for women, true equality isn’t really possible. Is perhaps as much of a fantasy as any far-fetched sexual one. This because men, beasts that they are, can’t seem to tolerate a woman being free in any way, least of all sexually. It drives them insane, to the point of murder. And hearing a woman mock or berate him in the same way that a man freely does to a woman? Fucking forget it. For that’s what apparently set off John Wayne Wilson, the real murderer of Roseann Quinn, whose account of the events leading up to her murder state that when he couldn’t get hard, she insulted him. Something that, to use understatement, clearly set him off. In the film version of events, it plays out mostly the same way, with Gary Cooper White (Tom Berenger)—yes, the nod to John Wayne Wilson is apparent—also failing to “deliver” as they start fooling around in Theresa’s apartment. Except that, in the movie, they make it so that Gary’s sexuality is homo-leaning to add to his sense of “needing” to overcompensate for that “masculine lack” by being hyper-toxic. Ergo, his over-the-top reaction to Theresa telling him it’s fine that he can’t perform. This “condescending” (from his skewed perspective) comment is what sends him on a tirade that includes the rebuke, “Goddamn women. All you gotta do is lay there. Guy’s gotta do all the work.”

    Theresa quickly loses patience for his “hot takes” about women and sex, telling him to leave. Instead, his rage continues to escalate and he proceeds to overpower her, leading her back onto the bed, stripping her of her clothes and choking her with her own bra (this aspect appearing in the “Bad Girl” video by way of “Louise Oriole” [Madonna] being strangled by a pair of her own stockings). All of this is what ends up arousing him enough to get an erection—violence, evidently the go-to aphrodisiac for men of all sexual orientations.

    As he proceeds to rape her, he asks, “This is what you wanted, right bitch?” Because that’s what it is, to the toxic male, for a woman to want hard dick. It’s for her to be a bitch or a slut who deserves to be treated roughly and cruelly because she wants sex in the same way that men have always been able to get it. And, more than women being “allowed” to make not only their own money, but also more money than men (rare as it is), the idea of a woman being “allowed” to have sex like a man is even more appalling to the quintessential toxic male.

    For Madonna, in 1993, there could have been no such message more appropriate to interweave into one of her videos. Because no one on Earth at that moment in time was being as maligned for their sexual freeness and candor than Ms. Ciccone. So while Madonna may have never formed a direct relationship with Keaton—apart from the direct relationship of Warren Beatty’s “special appendage” slipping into each of them at separate times (Keaton in the late 70s and early 80s, and Madonna in the early 90s)—the actress’ work clearly informed one of her best videos. And though, sure, Looking for Mr. Goodbar could have existed without Diane Keaton, it’s plain to see the movie wouldn’t have had the same impact on someone like Madonna without the subtlety and nuance she brought to the part. Able to convey the underlying missive—that women and men are never going to be “equals” so long as violence informs everything that men do and every reaction that they have—in a manner that obviously spoke to Madonna. In short, there would be no “Bad Girl” video without Diane Keaton.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Madonna Takes A Bigger Risk on Dredging Up the Sex Book in the Present

    Madonna Takes A Bigger Risk on Dredging Up the Sex Book in the Present

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    While it’s nice to see #JusticeForErotica happening after thirty years, Madonna’s decision to dredge up her accompanying project of the day, Sex, proves, perhaps more than anything else, that she might truly believe herself immune to cancel culture. Presumably because of the “carte blanche” that is imagined to come with being amid the last of the living legends. But as a film like Tár recently proved, it doesn’t matter who you are or what you’ve contributed to society—there’s always an occasion to be cancelled.

    As something of the “companion” to the Erotica album, Sex was originally published in October of 1992 by Madonna’s then-new company, Maverick, in collaboration with Warner Bros. and Callaway. And the images and excerpts pulled from it caused even more of a stir than Madonna getting her drag on in the “Erotica” video as a riding crop-toting dominatrix named Dita (an alter ego inspired by actress Dita Parlo). Although her publisher was concerned about unleashing the content—afraid that they had possibly given Madonna too much “free rein” (no riding crop pun intended)—the coffee table book was an immediate success.

    In mere days, it sold over a million copies worldwide (no small feat considering its cumbersome design) and topped The New York Times Best Seller list for three weeks. It all seemed to prove what Madonna wanted to hold up as a funhouse mirror to conservative America (itself the biggest “undercover” batch of pervs) worked like a charm. She would go on to assert in a 1998 episode of Behind the Music (complete with a talking head segment from Harvey Weinstein), “I was really being explicit about my own sexual fantasies, turning my nose up at the whole idea that, you know, women aren’t allowed to be sexual and erotic and provocative and intelligent and thoughtful at the same time.” Yet, that was a bit of a “smokescreen” for a more authentic underlying motive. As for the “fantasies,” Madonna has appeared to execute one of them throughout most of her real life—this being a strong penchant for younger, non-white men. Which she’s displayed with every boy toy since her divorce from Guy Ritchie, from Jesus Luz to Brahim Zaibat to Timor Steffens to Ahlamalik Williams.

    Within the pages of the Sex book itself, this is where she continues to take the greatest risk in the present in terms of having her words used against her in a more crescendoing way than before. Specifically, such assertions as, “One of the best experiences I ever had was with a teenage boy… He was Puerto Rican.” The specification of his ethnicity adding to the notion that this isn’t really “just” a fantasy. For Madonna was known for prowling the Lower East Side in the 80s to pick up underage Puerto Rican boys with her then go-to cohort, Erica Bell.

    In 1998, when Madonna was still in the process of perfecting her “softer” side in the wake of all that bond-age rage, she positioned the Sex book in the same Behind the Music interview as being less a political statement and more an act of rebellion, noting, “It was an act of rage on my part. In the beginning, everyone agreed that I was sexy, but no one agreed that I had any talent. And that really irritated me. And the Sex book was sort of the pinnacle of me challenging people and saying, ‘You know what? I’m gonna be sexually provocative and I’m gonna be ironic and I’m gonna prove that I can get everybody’s attention and that everybody’s gonna be interested in it and still be freaked out by it.” Yet, hadn’t she already done that many times over by 1992? From “Like A Virgin” to “Like A Prayer” to “Justify My Love,” her visuals had consistently been sexually provocative while incorporating an ironic tone. Which is why the excuse she gives for doing it doesn’t quite track. Complete with her assessment, “And it was sort of like my way of saying, ‘See? The world is hypocritical.” But who among any of us is truly immune to a little hypocrisy? Which Madonna engaged in a lot during the early 90s when she grafted much of her work from other, far less famous people (usually BIPOC and/or queer).

    Enter another reason the book is a sore/risky subject to bring into the light again so flagrantly: the salt in wound it might add to someone like Judith Reagan. An editor at Simon & Schuster in 1991, it was Reagan who approached Madonna with the idea for the book. Madonna likely thought what she had in mind was too “staid” and decided to take the bare bones of the project and go to another publisher: Callaway. The entity that would also go on to publish Madonna during her children’s book phase in the 00s. Reagan would later state in one of the few comprehensive biographies of Madonna (written by J. Randy Taraborrelli), “She had obviously taken my concept, my photos and ideas and used it as a proposal to secure a deal with another publisher. I never heard from her, not a word of gratitude, or an apology, or anything. Frankly, I thought it was in poor taste.” But, as is no secret by now, Madonna has never given much of a fuck about “good” taste when it comes to advancing her career.

    Indeed, by essentially admitting, beneath all the posturing about making a political statement, that she wanted the attention, Madonna played right into her long-standing psychological analysis. The one that dictates when a child loses a parent too early, they’re destined to spend the rest of their lives testing boundaries, seeking approval and wanting to be lavished with an amount of adoration that only fame can vaguely fulfill. You know, interminable void-wise.  

    With the reissuing of Sex in conjunction with Yves Saint Laurent curating an exhibit for it at Art Basel, Madonna, once again, appears to be courting the attention she can’t resist, even at such a dangerous time in the history of U.S. witch-hunting. To be sure, the book does continue to push the envelope, even to this day. Unfortunately, its “reboot” comes at a time when the Gatekeepers That Be would prefer that envelope to remain firm in its place—ironically, even more so than in 1992, at a theoretical height of oppression. However, with only eight hundred copies reprinted at a price of almost three thousand dollars, maybe Madonna is actually playing it safe. Re-releasing Body of Evidence, on the other hand… that would be bold.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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