"Nah, I've done sex scenes before, you know, like in video"
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Cronenberg’s “Nah” does most of the directing here: a casual swat at the idea that sex on-screen is inherently fraught, scandalous, or somehow beyond the pale. He undercuts the solemnity that usually clings to sex scenes in prestige cinema by reframing them as just another technical problem he’s already solved. The kicker is “you know, like in video” - a deliberately deflating phrase that drags the conversation out of lofty auteur territory and into the grubby, matter-of-fact world of recorded media. Not “on film,” not “cinema,” just “video”: the format of porn, home movies, VHS-era cheapness, and everyday reproduction.
That’s classic Cronenberg subtext. This is a filmmaker obsessed with bodies as systems - penetrable, rewritable, mediated. By casually aligning a “sex scene” with “video,” he collapses the respectable and the taboo, suggesting that screen sex isn’t a sacred artistic frontier but a familiar artifact of technology and desire. It’s also a sly jab at interview culture itself: the assumption that a director must be either prurient or defensive when sex comes up. He refuses both postures.
Contextually, Cronenberg’s career has long been a running argument that intimacy and horror share plumbing. His films turn flesh into interface; his characters don’t just have sex, they merge, mutate, and transmit. So the line reads like a deadpan mission statement: stop treating sex as exceptional. In Cronenberg’s universe, it’s simply one more medium where the body gets edited.
That’s classic Cronenberg subtext. This is a filmmaker obsessed with bodies as systems - penetrable, rewritable, mediated. By casually aligning a “sex scene” with “video,” he collapses the respectable and the taboo, suggesting that screen sex isn’t a sacred artistic frontier but a familiar artifact of technology and desire. It’s also a sly jab at interview culture itself: the assumption that a director must be either prurient or defensive when sex comes up. He refuses both postures.
Contextually, Cronenberg’s career has long been a running argument that intimacy and horror share plumbing. His films turn flesh into interface; his characters don’t just have sex, they merge, mutate, and transmit. So the line reads like a deadpan mission statement: stop treating sex as exceptional. In Cronenberg’s universe, it’s simply one more medium where the body gets edited.
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| Topic | Movie |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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