5 SEX POSITIVE DOCUMENTARIES YOU SHOULD SEE

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ARE WE IN HELL YET?

Don Juan's Proverbs of Hell

1. Sex is Life.  Love is not Life.  Love is the Abyss.
2. Sex is light, fire, friction, a spiral, exterior.  Love is interior, a vicious circle.
3. Sex isn’t just sexual intercourse.  Some equate it with the divine.  Or the demonic.
4. Sex is not Romance; Romance is the human quest for Love, not Sex.
5. Sex is everywhere, from a glance to a butterfly tattoo.
6. The repression of Sex occurs in our surrender to the experts, to the Sexual Inquisition, and they are everywhere.
7. The price of democracy is the temptation to add more regulations; the price of openness is the temptation to violate those regulations.
8. Sexual pleasure is enhanced by risk, by transgression, by the forbidden.
9. Affluence and education just mean you have more to lose by trying the forbidden.
10. The erotic child is a myth.  Children aren’t “eroticized”; adults are.
11. Adults are attracted to children’s ability to reshape reality imaginatively and playfully.  The child is father to the man, but the gift is lost with age, which is why we have Generation Gaps.
12. Seductive adults communicate best with teens and children.
13. Sex scandals are secrets wrapped inside of mysteries, not right vanquishing wrong.
14. The fate of Romance in the West: over-protective adults as Hero, and teachers, priests and politicians revive the Monster to be slain…again and again.  In the name of the children.
15. The over-protection of children makes their violation inevitable.
16. Creating sexual victims robs them of independence, imprisoning them in the “police state of sexual myth.”  Adults are more susceptible than children.
17. Various Age of Consent penal codes are pornographic documents.
18. Sex offenders are today's witches. From sexual harassment to sexual abuse and sexual assault, to predators and prey; this is the language of the Inquisition.
19. The banishment of Sex from Western society is directly proportional to the decline of the Western birth rate.
20. Sex can be dangerous; the act of creating Life can be the act that kills you.

From the wildly insightful, interactive  http://www.sexualfables.com/.

PORN REVIEW: PORTRAIT OF A CALL GIRL/WASTELAND

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PORN REVIEW: STAR BALLZ

Yup, I'm starting a new section dedicated exclusively to hipster pornography ;) Next is Graham Travis and his stylish female-focused psychoporno(d)ramas, so stay tuned.

Star Ballz

As the title indicates, Star Ballz could be generically contextualized as a comic crossover between Star Wars and Dragon Ball Z but if you're looking for a light-hearted parody in the manner of Mel Brooks' Spaceballs (1987) or the recent Star Wars XXX (2012), you may be baffled. I personally liked it, perhaps due to the fact that I'm a fan of neither series, at utmost a neutral admirer of the Freudian murkiness that distinguished The Empire Strikes Back and the entertaining artistry of The Return of the Jedi. The prequel trilogy bored me to death. Likewise I'm not an aficionado of anime and manga, which didn't prevent me from enjoying the reviewed production. Althought packaged as a low-budget hentai spoof,  Star Ballz uses its form to provide a clever and merciless bastardization of some of the most iconic imagery of the American film industry in the last decade of the XXth century. It fuses obscenity and references to cult flicks[1] in the most bizarre and humoristic manner. The prefatory overscreen commentaries from Beavis and Butthead prognosticate the viewer's entrance into the world of moronic voyeristic experience, but the joke is on the ataractic consumer of pop porn and franchise blockbusters like Star Wars. The plot begins with the busty Princess (Leia stylized as Sailor Moon) and her magical girls battling penis-headed Sperm Troopers led by D Villy (Darth Vader with Mickey Mouse ears and a red bowtie). As in the original version, Leia is captured but her anal transmission with plea for rescue is caught by "Wank" Solo (Dragon Ball Z's Goku) and his companion Chihuahua [2](hairy Howard Stern look-alike). The duo journeys to a Transformer-like space ship to lock laser swords in the final battle against the dark side of the Cum Force, on the way encountering cameos from pop culture personae who engage in the most delirious rule-34 sexual scenarios (cue Jar Jar Binks sodomized by xenomorph's alien-tongue) [3]. The film features, among others, a very gay version of C3PO as Pikachu, Ewoks as Internet anti-piracy squad, or Mulder and Scully in an absurdly anti-climactic episode of sex files.

It's easy to miss the ingenuity with which the creators filled the fatuous 45-minute story with over 20 innuendos to events, characters and citations that shaped the collective American imagination at the turn of the century. In one scene Bill Clinton receives a blowjob from Monica Levinsky who simultaneously hums Star Spangled Banner; in another George Lucas has oral sex performed by the supposedly kid-appealing Jar Jar Binks. It's sheer mindfuckery that's also reporting the status of contemporary American artistic and political scene.

Recommended for all cine buffs, those looking for a satirical angle, weird humor or a good postmodern porn parody (not to confuse with anything that has "A Porn Parody" in its title.)

[1] Direct references to/quatations from include: Trainspotting, Aliens, Silence of the Lambs, Die Hard, The Shining , Matrix, Saving Private Ryan, Good Fellas, Conan the Barbarian, the Abyss, Mission Impossible, Reservoir Dogs, the Planet of the Apes, Seven, Forrest Gump, The X-Files, Meet the Parents, From Dusk Till Dawn, Wayne's World, Blue Velvet, The Sixth Sense, Basic Instinct, X-Men

[2] Also, a reference to the Eurodance trash hit by DJ Bobo?

[3] I presume that's how Star Wars fans must have felt after the screenings of The Phantom Menace.

Best quotes:
Quote from X-Men inserted into Princess's reaction to Sperm Troopers's impressive erections: [Princess/Rogue:] When they come out... does it hurt? [Wolverine/Sperm Troopers: ]Every time.

Princess: I'm gonna tell you three things. If I'm right you walk forward, if I'm wrong you walk back and let me go. Gaga should die right after the opening credits of episode two. Girls really lie when they say size doesn't matter. Everyone thinks it's about time I got fucked.

Princess: Let your empire strike my back.

R2D2: Do you mind if I download some MP3 from you? Do you got some metallic cunt?

Ewoks: Everybody stealing MP3s should die and suffer ... and suffer more.

Mulder (to Scully): Listen, I don't know what we're doing here, so why don't you show some tits?

Danny Torrance: Red bum, redbum, redbum.

Best sex scene(s): the Princess gangbanging Sperm Troopers

MASO(S)CHISM

"What big key you have!"

Eh bien, just so to get the facts straight. Fifty Shades of Grey is the modern-day rendition of Bluebeard and it goes something like that: There was once a very wealthy, very handsome dominant who fell in love with a virgin. She fell in love with him. Yet turned out he had this Bloody Chamber Red Room of Pain where he brought his wives subs to torture and kill fuck them. It was all a game of sort with rules and hard limits and NDAs. The virgin only had to get over her aversion to ex-sub femme fatales and his controlling manic tantrums. So she sort of did and they lived happily ever after. [1] 

Erika Leonard James (E.L.James for short) is no Angela Carter [2], but you can't really expect artistic subtlety of someone with a mortifyingly virile pen name like that. Actually, initially I Did. Expect.Subtlety of Mrs. James because rumors have been circulating that she's written the above-delineated S/M fairy tale for (post)pubescent teenage girls and their mothers. However, it's also been called "porn for mummies" (for those wondering - that's just tautonym for female porn nothing at all) so having established generic diversification, I basically had no other choice than to sit and enjoy this hyped-up, teratoid spawn of contemporary philistinism and pornoromantic concupiscence for what it is. I need to stress, and that's my first and the mildest assessment about the writer and her publication, that guessably the main problem with James's trilogy is the fact that it fails, meritorically and formally, to support its eclectic expectations. Feminists don't like it because, among other things, it sanctifies the main characters as the perfect products of sex marketing (e.g. a young and insecure yet deluxe babe in the throes of ultimate and constantaneous orgasms); S/M readers don't like it because it unnecessarily demonizes some aspects of their subculture through the eyes of one of the most nitwitted submissives in the history of literature(I'll elaborate on that later); porn readers don't like it for the melodramatic redundancy and linguistic infantilism (agreed); as a romance it's just too unbelievably eerie and emotionally omnivoreous ("You.Are.Beautiful.I.Love.You"s and "You.Are.Mine"s punctuate your skull until you're somehow spellbound to believe that this book is really about spiritual possession or something). Last but not least, it's much too long for a fairy tale - over 1500 pages of anfractuous, ridiculous plot that leads to no convincing moral at all. [3] Unless it's the one that endorses mariage d'amour, specifically between virgins and gold-hearted predators. It's not just romance anymore, it's adult romance or paranormal romance. Teenage pregnancies, hardcore sex and spouse abuse may break your bones, but S/M and vampirism (50 Shades of Grey was initially Twilight fan fic piece) will never hurt you. E.L.James is apparently unfamiliar with the works of Camille Paglia who wrote: "Sex is power. Identity is power. In western culture there are no nonexploitative relationships." [4]. In other words, sex is cthonian.[5] Yet, contemporary fairy tales like Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey purge sex of its cthonian descent with a masquerade of affections, rituals and post-decadent idolation of authoritarian, quixotic Apollonian male beauty. The Picture of Christian Grey mirrors the impossible female erotic fantasies in the pornified late romanticism AD 2011.

I'm going to focus on the merchandised BDSM/porn/erotica aspect of Fifty Shades of Grey, because frankly I'm not that much interested in others, Plus, it might as well serve as an excuse for the long-gestating exegesis of literary masochism in a few BDSM gems and flops. As for the characters. Undoubtedly, the James's books are nourished by simplistic psychologism which attempts to explain S/M preferences by means of childhood trauma. Well, that's easier for the explication of the gruellingly long-winded narrative, one only needs to look up "masochism" and "sadism," in online medical dictionary to know where both of these paraphilias come from. Furthermore, the main purpoted sadist of the book (he admits at one point that he likes whipping brunettes because they remind him of his crack-whore mother) makes a point of being painstakingly expiatory throughout his love affair. Implyingly, what Christian Grey did to his other submissives was deplorable and stemmed from the troubled past which led to the developmnent of sadistic personality disorder. The masochism of minor characters, like Leila, is a deranged form of a craving for pain and self-debasement. Once she's abandoned, Leila becomes a pitiful depressive stalker. In the world of E.L.James, BDSM predilections are inherently implicated with emotional damage, depravity and self-hatred.Worst yet, James supplements her asthenic heroine with a faux identity of a carpenter daughter, a strong and principled young lady, well-read in English literature, a morosoph of sorts, but that's beside the point. The important thing is she illuminates the problem of the emptiness and evil of Grey's prior relations with women. Anastasia Steele, like the princess in The Frog Prince, playfully clutches onto her little gold ball of purity and simpleheartedness only to release it for the pleasures afforded by her Apollonian god. Yet, the generation of readers who envy her is not one of batrachophobes.That's when the porn/erotica aspect comes in. It's been said that the sex in the Shades books promptly becomes dull and mechanic, with little variation on top-bottom roles, not to mention the lack of linguistic alteration, from Steele's perspective every intercourse is a blissful experience of pouring his soul into her centre of the universe, with the obligatory cuddling afterwards. At one point she compares herself and Grey to figures from an Old Testament Baroque painting - I 'm thinking Roman Charity by Rubens but she couldn't possibly be kinkier than she's stupid. Why is the sex so soporific? Reaiteration is not a problem in pornography (apart for those who don't like it), but pornography doesn't pretend to be something it isn't. It doesn't turn decadence into romanticism, or force meaning onto gaping carnal spaces. Its primal appeal eludes explanation. E.L.James is the most pretentious when she affords verbal expectations which she later fails to deliver. Mostly, S/M elements are subjugated unless they serve spicing up vanilla erotic scenes or reinforcing teenage romanticism, as in this fragment: "I relive telling Christian that I'm pregnant and fantasize that he falls to his knees with joy in front of me, pulling me into his arms and on to his lap telling me how much he loves me and our Little Blip [that's how she calls their baby]. Yet, here I am, alone and cold in a BDSM fantasy playroom." (Freed 634) I fantasize about Anastasia Steele in another century sharing the fate of her favourite heroine, Tess d'Uberville, or one of the wives of Cunmar the Accursed. Turns out her husband is jealous over the baby. He's basically jealous about everything that might come in or out of her vagina, in other words, he's a typical child of a negligent mother - another behavioral anamaly miriculously solved for you by the expert psychologist, Mrs.James. The exorcism of mental damage goes hand in hand with the antiseptic lovemaking. Sadean chambers of torture have been replaced by silky pornotopias of fake American beauties and beasts replaying acts of pleasure and soap drama as expected by debilitated mass consumerists. The threat of rape lingers over the heroine like a whip that never actually falls. The bedroom is exactly where the beast trades his domineering streak for the love of the sexed up schoolgirls and their mothers. Filiarchy (Grey) is not of importance here because it eventually becomes emasculated by bored and rapacious Western matriarchy, lethargically dreaming up new mythologies of resurrected and restrainted Master/Dom.[6] Sadism and sexual violence perpetuated as exciting masturbatory possibilities remain innocuous concepts in literature [7], yet all the more pestilent for their narcoleptic power.

Deleuze, in his essay on Sacher von Masoch, pointed that masochism is grounded in the art of contractual coldness and suspension of pleasure. Artifice, not passion, is indeed a prevailing trope in Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed (that's after the devirginizing tutelage of Steele), but its nauseous hyperestrogenic candiness is much worse than any staged masquerades of a tormented whipping boy. Masoch's fantasy turned the tables on the male fetishist, in the end he learns that the contract was a distortion of fancy, and both he and his mistress come back to their true natures (or better to say, nature eventually has her way with them). The protagonists of Shades learn nothing, except that her love is his salvation. Oh, and very early Steele comes to a "relevatory" realization that she has this lurking need to please her lover in every way he wishes and she "want[s] him to be damned delighted with [her]". But Steele is no masochist. She's a maso(s)chist [8], a meagre residue of the strong-willed and self-consuming O from Pauline Reage's classic story. Inevitably, other French masochists come to mind - the young and subservient Anne in The Image by Jean de Berg or the transfigured Victoria in Whip Angels by Dianne Bataille, neither of whom is exculpated for obsequiousness by love or Freudian babble. Steele and Grey are one and the same person - pop love dummies uttering high-pitched platitudes about nothing, ventriloquized by the latent and sterilized desires of a middle-aged housewife whose sexual fantasies came belatedly. 

Typically Hollywood cold-blooded sadists tend to be the epitomes of male beauty

 Some people have been wondering about the kinky stuff in James's trilogy, like what's with Grey constantly feeding his mistress, or the tampon scene. Well, my guess is E.L.James sort of "borrowed" ideas from Elizabeth McNeill and her "Nine and A Half Weeks. A Memoir of A Love Affair", although maybe that's too much of a presupposition considering the quantity of realism the former injected into her novels. Better to say, maybe E.L. snatched some pieces and then she ruminated for a while and regurgitated profusely onto her electric keyboard. Nine and A Half Weeks the book is nothing like its dulcified movie version, but it's consistent with the maso(s)chist scheme.The nameless male character, a businessman, and female narrator, an executive for a New York corporation, engage ina  toxic and abusive relationship grounded in his slowly emerging sadistic and manipulative leaning. Here's what he does: he cooks and feeds her, washes the dishes, dresses her in the morning and undresses in the night, reads to her, washes, dries and combs her hair, buys her tampons and inserts/extricates them, asks her to crawl around his carpet in stilettos, coerces her to dress as a man and then sodomizes her, pressurizes her into stealing a man's wallet, ties her to the couch and coffee table, ties her to a hook on the ceiling so that she stands on tiptoes for sixty minutes until she goes numb and then he makes her come, forces her to masturbate for him, asks her to dress up as a prostitute and then has a threeway with her and a real prostitute, beats her repeatedly in the face until he draws the first blood. On the whole, the authoress leaves no doubt as to the fact that he extorts obedience in an impassively cruel way until she becomes his plaything, reaches her limits and experiences an acute mental breakdown. Nothwithstanding, until the final episodes, she visibly enjoys the pain, both as a form of escapism and for its reaffirming carnal authenticity. She's much like O, but unlike the submissives in fairy tales and fantasies, she ends up prosaically, the lukewarm sleeping beauty who's lost her impossible chance for happiness with a beast. She a maso(s)chist I could believe in.

[1] There's a direct reference to Bluebeard in Fifty Shades of Grey on page 108 in my electronic copy, so I'm assuming that the authoress has been familiar at one point or another with the original story.

[2] See The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories.

[3] The same could be said of Anne Rice's The Sleeping Beauty Trilogy but then perhaps the marriage in adult fairy tales is a politically subversive narrative ploy which is supposed to positively conclude consensual participation of the female in a BDSM acts for the sceptical readers.

[4] Camille Paglia, Sexual Personae, p.2.(New York: Vintage Books, 1990)

[5] Paglia uses this term to denote "[w]hat the west represses in its view of nature ... which means 'of the earth' - but the earth's bowels, not its surface", "a substitute for Dionysian" (ibid, p.5)

[6] That's affirmed by skimming the covers and titles of a goodread's list of popular BDSM fiction which displays the oppressive amount of schmaltz written by women (and sparingly men) for emotional and sexual gratification of the readers.

[7] Or better yet, they're demilitarized in the fairy tale convention. All the more remarkably from social perspective taking into consideration the roaring statistics of rape and sexual violence against women in the US. As such, Slavoj Zizek's insightful comment on rape here may shed some light on this oddity: "For standard feminism, at least, it is an a priori axiom that rape is a violence imposed from without: even if a woman fantasizes about being raped, this only bears witness to the deplorable fact that she internalized male attitudes. The reaction is here one of pure panic.The moment one mentions that a woman may fantasize about being raped or at least brutally mishandled, one hears cries: This is like saying that Jews fantasize about being gassed in the camps or African Americans fantasize about lynched! From this perspective, the split hysterical position (that of complaining about being sexually misused and exploited while simultaneously desiring it and provoking man to seduce her) is secondary, whereas for Freud, it is primary, constitutive of subjectivity. Consequently, the problem with rape, in Freud’s view, is that it has such a traumatic impact not simply because it is a case of such brutal external violence but because it also touches on something disavowed in the victim herself. So, when Freud writes, 'If what [subjects] long for most intensely in their phantasies is presented to them in reality, they none the less flee from it,' his point is not merely that this occurs because of censirship but, rather because the core of our fantasy is unbearable to us." (Slavoj Zizek Organs Without Bodies: On Deleuze and Consequences, Routledge: 2004, p.55)

[8] My term for submissives in the Anglosaxon literature in general, but especially since around 1960s. The "schism" relates to the fact that agolagnic proclivity is mitigated or altogether negated in the progress of narrative in favor of a felicitous closure, imposed political reading or other extratextually motivated stratagems.

9 SONGS

In the spirit of spreading domestic pornology, I'm posting today a fragment of a scholarly analysis of 9 Songs. The piece is a part of an MA thesis entitled Eroticism and Pornography in Mainstream Cinema in relation to Postmodern Sexuality and written by a compatriot from the north-eastern part of the country. As a whole the work is a comprehendible exposition of titular concepts for neophytes, but it tackles nicely converging themes of sex, nudity and intimacy in two contemporary R-rated films. I've been intending to write something on this softer side of new extremism for some time now, especially pertaining to cinescapes of sterilized sexuality, but it's a pending project in my mind, one out of few. Anyway, the author of hereby presented excerpt has pretty accurately captured my tactile impressions of  the movie and this must serve as a preliminary to my own input. The only copy of the text I possess is, alas, in Polish, so this is basically for my Polish confreres.

Postmodern Eroticism in 9 Songs by Adrian Milanowski

SEXUALIZATIONSHIPS via ARTERTAINMENT II

Today's mini-reviews are devoted to Fassbender porn.

Such a shame to believe in escape

SHAME (2011). Mainstreaming weighty sexual themes is by necessity trouble and Shame is the recent example that proves this judgement true. In short, the movie centers on a lone New York corporate cog (Fassbender) who would enliven the American Dream of consumptionist independence if not the psychological distress resulting from sex addiction. Inasmuch as I admire the endeavor for the minimalist beauty and the emotional tension, I can’t find the portrayal of the protagonist convincing enough to either enjoy the film or find it engaging. The problem is, of course, ideological framework which continually slips the character in the direction of potential moral catharsis and salvation. Firstly, in a failed attempt to build a relationship with his co-worker, he thoughtlessly throws away his impressive porn stash, which is sort of derisory considering the short span of the pair’s dating period and the implicit sweep of his addiction. Then, he provokes a surprisingly mild physical assault after offering sex to a non-single woman in a bar and verbally offending her boyfriend. Finally, he gets a blowjob from a gay bar regular in a scene that has been stylized emotionally as Dante’s seventh circle of hell, but you can tell from Cruising that far worse things happen in such places. All for vain, but the concluding scenes of supportive binding between brother-sister supply a glimpse of light in the dark tunnel of shameful sexaholism. Something is amiss in the psychological delineation of Brandon. On the one hand he’s charmingly honest and affirmative about his lifestyle, on the other he exhibits manic-depressive symptoms, as in the noted above moments of erratic behaviour spurted by … what exactly? The moral decline of his sister, the hypocrisy of his boss, the oppresive and deepening loneliness? The titillating availability of all forms of sexual release except through intimacy? His ambiguous past? In accordance to his sister’s exculpatory pronouncement, Brandon is not a bad person, in fact the furthest he gets to being lousy is through his egotism and solitariness, but that’s too little realism to fill a half-and-an-hour of screening time. In case one might discard the gravity of the subject matter on the basis of a shallow plot line alone, the director illuminates the narrative by heavyhearted music. Fassbender’s long, pale and pained physiognomy adopts sympathetic grandeur whilst he’s night jogging to Bach, crying to a cheesy rendition of Sinatra (another tacit attack on late capitalism!!! If porn, sex and money can’t make you happy in the city of unlimited possibilities – what can?), or exchanging telling looks with a beautiful soon-to-be slut stranger on the subway to Harry Escott’s orchestral score. All that to make the audience realise that sex addiction is unmistakably a problem of monumental proportions for the XXIst century generation of yuppies and generally for the sophisticated middle-class. Not that I’m desensitized to the extent of spurning the sublime aesthetics of the story. The subway scene is beautifully executed, the sense of loneliness is depressingly close at heart , Fassbender’s performance is flawlessly beyond axiological evaluation, and I couldn't hold sway of my dirty voyeristic little heart in the overstretched scenes of urinating and frontal nudity. Still, the movie neither shocked nor surprised me, surely not with a threesome and a homoerotic blowjob as the extrema of today’s male lecherousness.

 

Fassbender and Theron in W Magazine erotic fashion session [2]

PROMETHEUS(2012).In Prometheus Fassbender plays David, an android with a surprisingly acute sense of humor, existential reflection and a will to freedom. For all the talk that the movie is a bleak metaphor of human civilization, the outcome strikes me primarily as something of a mythologizing Freudian space opera. What’s with the biblical allusions, disavowing of children, senseless testosteronic aggression among the male humans and engineers, vagina dentata symbolism? Not that I expected a pro-feminist agenda residual of 1979 but why the lack of at least mildly non-irritating female characters and why no female enegineers? Have they all stayed on the planet of engineers in order to take care of the engineer babies whilst their engineer husbands went out boldly to explore the space? Are women a Darwinian blind spot of evolution? I’d be less offended by a sacrificial engineer virgin in the initial scenes than this implication. Then at least it'd be clear why the world is so vile and dirty. The two female protagonists in the movie are cringingly asexual – one is a barren Catholic who hypocritically performs abortion on a miraculously conceived alien baby, and the other is a masculinized corporative daughter with patricidal tendencies. Two implicit sex scenes featuring the women are preceded by unbelievably vegetative flirting iniciated respectively by alcohol intoxication and libidinal drive of the hulky black captain of Prometheus. Apparently the android is the one character in the film that is not implicated in economic or carnal desires, or possessed with the morbid drive to decypher the nexus of ontogenesis, death and immortality. His telling citation from Lawrence of Arabia resounds with a Sisyphean resolution to survive despite the all-present stupidity and unkindness of the universe. On the surface he comes across as a bit of a sissy, ostensibly emasculated by Vickers and Holloway, and disregarded by other crew members. Yet, David is as sly as he is pitiable and Scott apparently intended him to be a  postmodern Adam(/artificial serpent?), the monster of Frakensteinian biotechnological humanity which creates and destroys uncontrollably and in the end gets what it deserves. What’s David purpose when he impregnates Holloway with the back alien goo? Is he acting on Weyland’s behalf? Is this his revenge on the humans who engineered him or pure curiosity? Is he “feeeling” the same way aliens “felt” towards engineers? Does his androidal atavistic hatred towards humans activate in clear and present danger? That’d explain some of it. Somehow David seems to be amused by the idea of random ontogenesis, at least to the point when he loses his head, but maybe he wasn’t versed enough in mythology (sic!) to predict the savagery of the gods. His final questioning of Shaw’s somewhat zany request seems to emphasize his artificial hence instinctually superior nature or just a lower spectrum of conceptalization of things that don’t impede his actual being(-in-itself?). Or he just doesn't care like the rest of the audience.What's obvious is that Prometheus reduplicates in a nearly Kristeva-esque fashion horrific visions of endless propagation with the abject goo that gives birth to a virus which begets a tentacle monster and then a xenomorph – I don't quite follow this disturbed gestation story arc but undoubtedly all alien forms are meant to be born in death or pain, at best, through incubators with a human DNA. A weaker form must die so that a superior one might be born; our reign is coming to an end but we’re still venturing into the cold space in search of a benevolent maker. That’s how I’m going to pretend I’ve understood the message anyhow. No need to add that I see unlimitless possibilities in the porn version/continuation of this movie on the planet of "bald albino bodybuilders"[1].

                                      

  [1] The designation is not mine but I find its homopatriarchal simplicity disturbingly adequate in the context of the movie. See http://m15m.livejournal.com/23209.html.
 [2]  http://www.wmagazine.com/story/charlize-theron-michael-fassbender-prometheus-cover-story. You're welcome.