For those of you who’ve come back hoping for the answer to Life, The Universe, and Everything, aka Part 3 of How Film Festivals and Distribution Deals Kill Independent Film, I got an amazing, almost providencial inquiry from an Slovenian feminist/alternative/LGBT film festival that more or less proves everything you’re going to read in Part 3 as absolutely and unfailingly true and the key to your happiness and success as an independent filmmaker.
But that’s not what I’m writing about today. Today is a regurgitation of Blowfish’s very very nice promotional write up of BILL AND DESIREE: LOVE IS TIMELESS.
I did the same thing almost three years ago for their write-up of DAMON AND HUNTER in a post entitled “Blowfish Gets It.” Of course one of the things I meant by that is that Blowfish gets what I was trying to do in DAMON AND HUNTER. But I also meant that Blowfish gets what I’m trying to do with these film. But even more than that I meant that Blowfish gets this whole selling sexuality thing. Blowfish was the first place I ever bought lube and a silicone dildo (c. 1997); and Blowfish was the first US retailer to buy our first film (MARIE AND JACK in the Spring of 2003).
Six years and five films later, and after some BIG changes in the sexuality retailing landscape, Blowfish still gets it. Blowfish still has their eyes on the prize. I couldn’t be happier with what they have to say about BILL AND DESIREE. From their weekly newsletter (which you should subscribe to!)
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The essence of Tony Comstock’s films is quite simple: these are documentaries about people in love, making love. Bill and Desiree: Love is Timeless differs from other installments in the series in that it features an older couple (who happen to be recreational naturists). Bill is a fairly distinguished-looking guy with a white beard and white hair, while Desiree is a lovely woman who’s remained beautiful into middle age.
The discussion about the way they met (at a clothing-optional event) is sweet and weird and funny, as when Bill says, “I was just blown away by her genitals . . .. They were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen . . .. I actually went home and wrote to friends about them.” I guess when you see each other naked straightaway it removes certain obstacles to connection . . . They met again at a hot springs resort and spent a night together, and proceeded to hike around Northern California and make love outside. (Occasionally stumbled over by spotted owl researchers and the like.) They have some adorable bicker-banter too, with her correcting details in his stories — and, clearly, they’re very comfortable with each other, and very much in love. They definitely have a California bohemian post-Hippie sort of vibe — he even reads a poem he wrote about her (at the moment you can even buy his poetry collection at Amazon.com).
And they’re not totally vanilla, either — they tell a story about her fucking him with a strap-on, him giving her fake cock a blowjob, etc. As usual in these films, the first half is a conversation, the recounting of a love story from two separate but overlapping points of view, and the second half is fucking. The sex is hot — they’re experienced, they laugh a lot, and they’re clearly very much in love. (And, indeed, she wears a purple Feeldoe dildo, which he sucks, making it one of the kinkier films I’ve seen in this series.) Like other Comstock films, this is a sweet, sexy, intimate glimpse into real-life lovemaking.
