The opening of “Auto Erotic Assimilation” lays plain what makes Rick And Morty such a uniquely brilliant part of the television landscape. As Rick explains, nine out of 10 times a distress signal from a derelict ship means there’s lots of awesome loot to scavenge from a bunch of dead aliens, while one of out 10 times it’s a deadly trap. That kind of self-aware statement sure plays like it’s going to be dramatic irony, a rather obvious way of signposting that Rick and his grandkids are headed for precisely the sort of peril he’s just described. Instead, after ever so briefly feinting in that direction, the episode comes up with a path that pretty much no other show would ever think to pursue, with the super-intelligent parasite and gestalt entity proving to be Rick’s old flame, Unity. (In fairness to one of Rick And Morty ’s most obvious influences—not to mention another show Zack has reviewed, with me occasionally pitching in— Futurama did do something sort of along these lines in “The Beast With A Billion Backs,” but what we... In a good way. Unity’s romance with Rick is one of those things I’m not sure anyone would ever predict, yet feels just ludicrously obvious once it’s actually presented. As Unity observes, she—not that that’s really its exclusive pronoun, given it’s just as much male as it is female, or possibly fundamentally genderless, but “she” feels like the best reflection of how the episode presents the character—is... Rick’s consistent distance from and apathy toward the people he deals with means it makes total sense that he would need to be with an entire planetary organism to maintain any sort of prolonged interest. And while an awful lot of that has to do with the opportunity to live out his most gargantuan sexual fantasies—prominently involving a stadium full of redheads and every man who even vaguely looks like his father cheering him on—the profoundly... Whatever the case, Rick’s low boredom threshold is on full display here, and it as much as anything drives his interactions with Unity. It’s hard to imagine any single woman—hell, any single person, more broadly speaking—holding. Source: www.avclub.com
n July 5, 2015, the Supreme Court of India became cooler than beards and skinny jeans when Chief Justice HL Dattu observed "the court cannot pass orders to stop adults from watching porn within the four walls of their room. ” India rejoiced and given we're in the top five of the most dedicated consumers of pornography according to data recently released by the website Pornhub. com , Chief Justice Dattu may well have acquired the status of a national hero for a wide demographic. This joy was short-lived, as it turned out, because the government banned more than 800 websites reportedly because they have pornographic content on July 31, 2015. Whether there is a constitutional basis that allows a government to deprive... Considering our population – 1. 252 billion in 2013 – and our lasting reputation as the "land of Kama Sutra”, it's not surprising that we're very, very interested in sex. In fact, the enthusiasm for all things erotic and many things that could be described as pornographic has been a long-standing feature of Indian culture. From antiquity till the present, we have worshipped vaginas and penises without any coyness. We rather adored our courtesans and their seductive ways until the colonial British drove their Puritanical conservatism into our ethos. Our ancient poetry, both religious and secular, is loaded with sexy times, much to the discomfort of the Right leaning. In fact, it's only in the modern era that Indian culture fallen behind in the sex game. Because while India campaigns for something as basic as being able to watch whatever they want to on the internet, the world of online sex has gone way beyond a 16:9 aspect ratio. In the era of digital natives, you don't simply view sex. you get immersed in it. All thanks to your bits, the internet's bytes and teledildonics. In simple terms, teledildonics are electronic sex toys, but the technology that they're using today is anything but simple. If there was a spectrum that had sex with a human on one end and sex with a robot on the other, teledildonics would be bang in the middle. There's a lot of innovation that's constantly happening in the business of sex. With devices like Oculus Rift , 3D pornography is a reality. There are toys like Bianca from Lars and the Real Girl. We may not be too far away from the romance that writer Charlie Brooker imagined in the episode titled "Be Right Back". Source: www.firstpost.com
How wonderful it is to watch a film that pays attention to life's finer textures. The setting is PalaVideo, a vertiginous cinema at the back of Locarno's train station, and the time is midday. The air conditioning is desperately insufficient and folks wave fans in front of their faces, a gesture that turns the fixed safety lights that adorn the walls on either side of the auditorium into gentle flashes in one's periphery. The perspiration, the darkness, the unsynchronized hand movements: If it isn't quite an erotic context to watch this packed public screening of James White , it's certainly what we'd call a bodily experience. Josh Mond's debut feature is a refreshingly authentic and profitably low-key drama in which twentysomething New Yorker James White (Christopher Abbott) is coming to terms with the death of his father. Shortly before the death, James learned his dad had remarried following a divorce from his mother, Gail (Cynthia Nixon), and meets his stepmom at the wake being held in his mother's apartment—to which he shows up after a boozy binge in an... The opening scene, in which James does little more than zone out to a sonic mosaic of electronic dance music before getting a cab across town in sobering daylight, is evocative of the kind of physical and even emotional states induced by prolonged... Though it doesn't shy away from dialogue (an increasing rarity across independent cinema in general and the festival circuit in particular), this is nevertheless going to be a film all about unspoken heartache. James is unemployed. We learn Gail has recently survived cancer and her son was a major help in her fight against it. Listless and unable to confront his growing anxieties, he goes on vacation with his close pal, Nick (Scott Mescudi). It's there that he meets Jayne (Mackenzie Leigh), a fellow New Yorker. But just as their romance is beginning to blossom, James receives a phone call from his mother saying her cancer has returned. Back in New York, he divides his time between Jayne, a job search, continued hedonism, and his increasingly dependent mother. This simple premise is executed with a deeply effective naturalism. Mond eschews a non-diegetic score at key moments, placing full trust in his performers. When putting the dramatic groundwork in, Mond's focus on the quotidian ensures that later. Source: www.slantmagazine.com
PW’s Top 10: Romance/Erotica Collide. Gail McHugh ... ISBN 978-1477818374). After Bronwyn Palmer’s pregnancy sent her husband into an inexplicable rage, will she ever be able to forgive him enough to uncover the painful secrets that drove his fury?