Quite a title isn't it? After all, why
settle for graphic sex or graphic horror when you can have (enjoy?) both in one
handy package?

The phrase "Graphic Sexual Horror" actually
derives from the all-caps warning that would greet visitors at the threshold to
the Insex.Com Web site during its heyday roughly a decade ago. But one can't be
blamed for thinking that the title pairs well with the somewhat
sensationalistic marketing copy from releaser Synapse. No, the fact that this
is a documentary is never concealed, but that doesn't really diminish the lurid
appeal--in fact, the promise that everything is real only adds to the
titillation.

Of course that's the same lure of realism
that attracted some 35,000 subscribers to "PD" Brent Scott's unique BDSM online
community and interactive gallery. Shooting on stark sets sporting a
"rundown, industrial look" and featuring a grim, deadpan aesthetic
that gave some the impression that PD  "really had captured the girls," the
Insex team specialized in creative live feed sessions that allowed customers to
provide real-time input and feedback. The young models would frequently plead
for mercy from all sorts of gnarly acts of sadism (one that stays with you: red
pepper flakes applied to the genitalia), but per S/M protocol there was always
a "safe word" in reserve that they could invoke if things became too
unbearable.

One might expect a doc covering such
subject matter to be fairly predictable in its exploitational leanings. Yet by
showing the motivations of each model to test her own psychological/physical
limits--and PD's tendency to manipulate such motivating factors--Graphic
Sexual Horror begins to address all sorts of intriguing and totally unexpected
questions. Is there such a thing as self-exploitation? And what's to
distinguish simple exhibitionism, and those who would leverage it for profit,
from a legitimate, artistic, and maybe spiritual exploration of the body's
limits? (I'm including "spiritual" because ecstatic states similar to those
depicted in the horror flick Martyrs are briefly, but convincingly,
touched upon.)

Fashioning a smart, extremely well-edited
chronicle of PD's career, directors Barbara Bell
and Anna Lorentzon consistently
emphasize the consensual nature of Insex's activities. Sometimes this is done
via backstage footage of the shoots, sometimes through video waivers in which
the models agree to a range of torments with the same air of cheerful
professionalism a job interviewee might muster in consenting to make coffee
once in a while. This same stance of calm detachment suffuses the doc as whole,
and, again, is well at odds it with the DVD promo copy that promises "the
terrifying dark history" of Insex. Yes, PD admits that he's influenced by
serial killers and that a "sicko" could use his work as a "tutorial" for
non-consensual torture, but the doc's overall presentation of such content is
quite sober:  if you're looking for an ominous soundtrack or other devices to
pump up drama or salaciousness, you'll be disappointed. 

That said, parts of the film are a bit hard
to watch, but bear in mind this assessment is from a layperson's
perspective--those more familiar with the BDSM subculture might find Graphic
Sexual Horror, if not tame, then at least closer to "standard" in terms of
imagery. The onscreen blood and raised welts that appear in the context of
breast torture, caning, and other punishments are certainly not for the
squeamish, but the filmmakers are careful to position the audience as a clinical
observer, not a "fan." In fact, the opening voice-over implicitly prompts
viewer self-reflection by referencing the culturally-derived shame that often
surfaces in response to sexuality that deviates from acceptable norms.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, then,
that the parts of the doc I found most disturbing are related to sex only
tangentially. On a visceral level, the sequences where the models are submerged
in cages like amateur Houdini's with no chance of escaping are the most
harrowing--sure, the women are nude, but such scenes would also pack a punch had
they been fully clothed. On an emotional level, the creepiest thing in the film
is the subtle transformation of PD/Brent himself. He starts as a would-be
iconoclast and niche aesthete thumbing his nose at mainstream academia and
pornography... and ends up a morally-rudderless impresario wielding power over
his models for personal pleasure. But maybe the most frightening thing of all
is how the government shut down Insex by effectively applying pressure to banks
under the guise of Patriot Act security measures.

In any case, it's clear that this kind of
cautionary tale can be applied to a range of media-making industries and
personalities, and it's these deeper themes of the film that really impress.
Indeed, the entire subject/object, audience/participant dynamic is handled at a
very high level without becoming too dryly intellectual. For example, the
models know that they can use the safe word at any time, but they also don't
want to be seen as "wimping out" in front of a live viewership that also
happens to be their fanbase. On the other hand, the presence of that
being-streamed-to audience is the only thing that ultimately ensures their
safety--paying customers as potential criminal witnesses.

To their credit, the filmmakers handle such
issues with a light touch, as they do the entire "art vs. pornography" debate.
In short, there's plenty of food for thought here--one can see this title
working really well in university-level courses on media, alt-culture, and
gender/sexual politics--but Bell and Lorentzon don't try to cram a message or
ponderous "insights" down the audience's throat. As a matter of fact, Graphic
Sexual Horror should probably be looked upon as an effective primary source
more than anything else: a tight focus is maintained on the actual models and
Insex crew speaking honestly about their experiences, while completely absent
is a series of expert talking heads holding forth on the meaning of those
experiences. In addition, the generous DVD extras that Synapse has compiled
further support the notion of this disc as an invaluable primary source. What
you'll find are solid interviews and footage that really do add to the film
itself, not just cutting room floor detritus that someone decided to sweep up
and offer because, "Hey, there's bonus nudity here!" 

By the same token, though, the insider
perspective (both directors have worked either with or for PD) and narrow focus
on firsthand testimony yields a vague sense of opportunities missed. I'm not
contending that any doc would benefit from an injection of high-powered
commentators, but in this case a couple of engaging outside voices providing
occasional cultural context would have been welcome. It's interesting, for
example, that the height of Insex's popularity overlaps with the rise of
bondage and fetishistic torture in U.S. horror films--just a coincidence? And
don't forget that this was also the age of the caught-on-camera sexual
humiliations at Abu Ghraib and U.S. debate over the "soft" tortures of
Guantanamo. Again, maybe these specific historical and political items aren't
that relevant to the events and ideas presented in GSH, but the fact
remains that while watching the film you'd never know that any of its
compelling themes might intersect with the wider world. Which is too bad,
because while this somewhat insular approach reflects the closed, marginalized
community that is its subject matter, this sharp and thought-provoking doc
deserves to reach an audience far wider than BDSM aficionados and those with a
passing curiosity in them.