Last weeks screenings were definitely hard to sit through. Every time I return from a screening, my roommate always asks for a run through of the movies we've seen. I think she was a bit perturbed when I told her about these films, with the transgenders, raping, and blow jobs. Something about sex in movies, especially like this when it's not actual sex, just makes for an uncomfortable evening.

To add to the discomfort was the fact that I just didn't really enjoy the films. I mean, it's hard to say you really are moved by a film so outrageously busy as Flaming Creatures, or one so nonchalant, even dull, as Blow Job. Frampton's film (nostalgia) was not so much unmoving as frustrating. I sat impatiently waiting to see the picture he was describing, over and over and over again. About four pictures before the end, I thought to myself how frustrated I would be if he didn't show the last picture, which, of course, he didn't. I suppose the fact that it actually evoked that feeling of frustration from me is enough.