Bike Porn. The term is as much a question as it is an affirmation of a branch of pornography. The definition or concept of Bike Porn was discussed by the producer of Pornography of the Bicycle, a collection of 28 bike related shorts, before the start of its New York City screening. The film, which is touring the country, is meant to eroticize the bicycle and encourage a deeper communion, if not outright sexual intercourse, with bicycles and generally shock the sensibility of anyone willing to pay the six dollar admission fee. Reverend Phil was the presenter, curator, pornographer responsible for culling these shorts into something resembling a thematically coherent project.
I am seated inside 217 East 42nd ST. The facility is a rentable extension of Chashama, a not-for-profit arts organization with multiple locations throughout Manhattan. Its storefront is blackened out by dark fabric, and only two pieces of construction paper with the words Bike and Porn written, respectively, on them gave any indication of what you would be walking into. Inside Rev. Phil stands before a sparse crowd in black jeans and leather jacket. Bald except for a tuft of hair on each side of his head, dyed red, and fashioned into horns, he explains that he wanted to make people uncomfortable with this film, but in a sexual and playful way. To this end he starts the night off with a “Best Fake Orgasm” contest. He assures the three participants, two female and one male, that they will all receive prizes.
The first girl closes her eyes and breathes heavily into the mic. She massages her stomach and curls her lips convincingly. Her moans get louder until they turn into yelps but stops just short of the crescendo that makes men question the honesty of their own girlfriends. The second girl manages to suppress her giggling and get behind the mic. She relies more on her hands, exposing her midriff, and incorporating her breasts into the pantomime. She draws out her moans instead of getting louder. Sensing she needs to make this exhibition her own and quick, she squeezes out an “ay, pappi,” and wins the crowd over. The lone guy in the contest looks like a better proportioned Napoleon Dynamite. He also begins with the requisite moaning but follows with little else. He begins to climax and decides on the self-deprecating route to the crowd’s heart, stifling his shouts and then whimpering, “Oh, uh, that’s never happened to me before.”
Once the prizes are handed out and everyone seated, the movie begins. Across the screen the title “Semiotics of a Bike” appears. A thick blond in a leopard dress stands next to a bike in front of a shaky, out-of-focus camera. She seductively enumerates the parts of the bike allowing her showcasing to slowly degenerate into outright frotteurism. This first short is indicative of the tone and production quality of what is to follow. Since cyclists have always viewed the very nature of the bicycle as a do-it-yourself form of transportation it is no surprise that the ethos carries over into their filmmaking. I can’t, however, say that this works to their advantage anymore than the quality of home movies endears that footage to anyone other than those involved in them.
One short is a behind-the-scenes look at a go-kart race. In another, skateboarders run their lap around a course, while the cyclists wait around the bend to moon them before taking their own lap. There is footage of cyclists riding through the city, some performing stunts. In one short a guy professes to love his bicycle helmet before lowering it crotch-level and dry-humping it. The next scene is titled “the Bicycle’s Revenge.” Slowly this same guy limps into the room, upper torso in a cast and arms elevated. His neck is in a brace and his face is a burgundy stain with green-yellowish fringes. Even though he can barely move his lips, it’s obvious that he has cracked a few teeth or lost some entirely. His predicament is met with uncontrollable laughter from the audience and jeers of, “eat it, rookie!”
I become a little uncertain about what it is that I’ve paid six dollars to see. I wasn’t primed for a niche, skate/bike film of sophomoric pranks performed by people with too much time and spectacular health insurance on their hands. I can laugh at pratfalls but the Porn in Pornography of the Bicycle set up some pesky expectations that have yet to be satisfied. And it’s not simply a matter of wanting to see gratuitous sex but something relating to the psychology of bicycle aficionados that would explain eroticizing an otherwise utilitarian instrument. Consider that individuals who profess an unusually strong fervor for all things bicycle have been known to refer to themselves as velosexuals.
After a few ineffective starts to broach the topic of Bike Porn with the cyclists in the film, the shorts begin to earnestly address or display what Bike Porn can be. In one silent film a man walks down the street and finds a bicycle growing on a hedge. He takes it with him despite how silly he looks on such a small, girl’s bicycle. Anytime he parks it to run an errand, through the magic of stop-action animation, the bike comes to life and wistfully turns to face its new owner. Eventually he takes it home with him and sets it next to his other bike. Inside the owner and his girlfriend get intimate while outside both bikes become aware of the noises coming from inside the house. Both of them pop wheelies and peer through the window into their owner’s bedroom and become intrigued by what they see. The bike that is already at the man’s house is understood to be male because of its larger size, and soon the bikes interlock in what can only be interpreted as bicycle intercourse.
Another short shows a woman returning home from the grocery store on her bicycle. She takes her bike into the backyard, and unable to simply chain it up and walk away, she massages and licks it. Soon she has removed her top and is rubbing her breasts across the handlebars and seat. Then she unzips her shorts and, from out of left field, a huge, rubber, purple dildo spills out onto the seat. After lubing it up and slapping it around a bit, she works the dildo off of her and straps it onto the bicycle seat. She slowly rides the bicycle out of frame, hovering suggestively over the seat.
On a more sentimental note, one short shows the exposed midsection of a woman who is lying down. By her navel there is a stick figure drawing of a bicycle that, through
stop-action animation, rides around her belly. On another, this time male, body an identical drawing freely cruises around his midsection. Both bodies come into full view as being on the same bed and right next to one another. The bicycles work their way toward the edge of their respective bodies and take notice of each other, as revealed by the halo of vertical slash lines that denote surprise in comic strips. The problem is that there is no way for these bikes to traverse the gap between them until the headless and legless torsos embrace. The bicycles are mashed together and
purple hearts blossom on the bodies of the man and woman, the result of the bicycles’ sexual and sensual consummation.
Initially I doubted whether any movie could successfully use bikes and humans to express tenderness. By the resounding “aww” that accompanies the applause at the end of this short, it is obvious that I am not the only one pleasantly surprised. Sentimentality aside the movie is titled Pornography of the Bicycle, and since this isn’t an art house crowd, not delivering the explicit material could cause a fracas. The final slew of films do not disappoint.
They are filmed in black and white and understandably from the neck down. A naked woman stands over a bicycle and begins to rub her well groomed genitalia against the top tube (what we mistakenly refer to as the bar, responsible for many painful boyhood accidents). Her aggressive rubbing creates a hypnotic image that is difficult to ignore. Its omnipresence is in part due to the extreme close up and angle of the shot. Her labia slowly wrap around the tube, and you wonder whether they’ll completely envelope it. She then sits on the seat of the bike and lifts her legs high enough to allow an unobstructed visual of a latex-gloved hand enter her. With a lot of lube and little subtlety her partner quickly works in four fingers and doesn’t seem content to stop there. Far from offended everyone in the room is pretty impressed by this woman’s elasticity. This same woman then places a condom around the narrowest part of the bicycle seat and proceeds to back herself into it, while busying her front with her male partner, who is just off camera.
Continuing in the black and white motif but adding a grainy, 8 mm feel to it, the camera zooms in on a bicycle seat. Ominous music pours in from the background and we all realize that this is a snuff film parody long before a switch blade is pulled. A small incision is made into the fabric of the seat. I begin to wonder just how far and bad this parody will go when a penis pokes into frame. The guy proceeds to put on a condom and insert his member into the slit. I turn to the girl next to me who had commented earlier on about the lack of boys in this and said, “You asked for it, you got it.” She responds a little uncertainly, “this..wasn’t exactly what I meant.” The penis in the bike seat is as well received as any of the other depraved if silly acts in the movie. The film reaches its climax (yes, pun intended) with the guy withdrawing, removing the condom, and finishing off on the bicycle seat. Yes, the film ends with a money shot.
I don’t know what sociological, or artistic, merit the Pornography of the Bicycle, has, but I will say that it made for an interesting evening and even better fodder for conversations with whomever is in earshot (just say “bike pornography” in a crowded room and watch the heads turn. Add alcohol to this, and you’re gold). The crowd was also interesting: not people that shock easily but with a good if slightly twisted sense of humor. Considering how expensive movies are today and how obnoxious their crowds can be, I could’ve done a lot worse than paying to see Pornography of the Bicycle. Besides it was a Bring Your Own Beer Screening.
