two in one day
this was written a while ago. for school. but its something i kind of just want to put out there. its basically a critical analysis paper. but for those interested...



Chris Zeischegg

On My Dirty Knees; or Alt-Porn's Transient, Communal Identities
The first I heard of “Alt-Porn” was back in 2005 during a conversation on AIM (an instant messaging software) with a future-and-now-ex-girlfriend. She had typed out some sort of explanation to me, a descriptive experience of performing in a recent movie. The title, she said, was Neu Wave Hookers and the director, some young hipster who went by the name of Eon McKai (a tribute, or reference, to Ian MacKaye, singer for Washington D.C. hardcore band, Minor Threat). She said the movie was “Alt-Porn” without much explanation of what that meant. But she gave me enough examples of similar material that I began to get the idea. It seemed the whole thing was geared towards a younger generation, my generation, and more specifically, contemporary subcultures spawned primarily from counter-mainstream music and/or aesthetics (punk, goth, metal, raver, etc...). The performers were pierced, inked, or consciously part of a 'scene;' the soundtracks ditched the wah-pedal laden tracks of the old days for something one might hear in a local indie record store; and the visual style melded low-budget, DIY sets with more sophisticated, fast-paced editing. Essentially, the “Alt” meant alternative. And that's what it was: an alternative to mainstream (hetero) pornography.

I investigated further (through websites and message boards) and found that the Neu Wave Hookers director, Eon McKai, appeared to be one of those at the helm of the movement (so to speak). Village Voice columnist, sex educator, and fellow porn director, Tristan Taormino, even called him the “Prince of Alt-Porn,” writing, “Thousands of fans flock to McKai's infamous Hollywood parties and the popular message boards on his website (eonmckai.com) to celebrate a new generation of smut” (Taormino par 3). I became one of those fans, and through a variety of choice and circumstance, ended up meeting and befriending him. Since then, I've had the pleasure of crewing on and performing in his films. He even wrote me a letter of recommendation to get into USC.

McKai, who graduated with a masters in film from Cal-Arts, has gone on to direct over ten adult features and to start his own imprint at Vivid, called Vivid-Alt. His latest release, On My Dirty Knees, has already received quite a bit of Internet buzz, critical acclaim, and is the topic of this paper.

So what is this new piece of adult cinema all about? Well, the film opens with a piece of graphically scrawled-out text, reading “'I'm totally fascinated with the world young women seem to have access to' – Eon McKai,” followed by one of the film's female stars, Andy San Dimas, spewing an unrehearsed line, “My mom didn't ever teach me how to be a girl.” Immediately after, another bit of text is superimposed over San Dimas' legs, reading, “This is a Post-Alt Twist on fucking your way out of your hometown.” The image then disappears to start the film's first chapter, “The Internet,” in which a computer screen, logged on to an anonymous image message board, is displayed. The mouse cursor moves to scroll down the page. A link is then clicked, and after a short load time, a Quicktime movie of Andy San Dimas depicts her doing a short striptease.

There are several immediate implications here. First, McKai's self-imposed quote references the film's structure in regards to his experience of young women, specifically those who view themselves as models and/or sex workers. On My Dirty Knees focuses on only two female personas (stars), Andy San Dimas and Violet Skye, both of whom (to my knowledge) sought out their roles as performers after being exposed to Alt-Porn through the Internet. Thus, they are part of the post-Alt-Porn generation, those of whom have found identification with alt models over the past few years and sought to represent themselves as such through the display of their digital selves (i.e. images and videos) on the Internet. The idea is that these photos/videos disseminate through a variety of sources, including the anonymous imageboards referenced in McKai's opening computer screen shot, sometimes reaching the status of “'memes'-cultural fragments that catch someone's eye, get forwarded to friends and spread like viruses” (Smith par 3). Like the exposure offered by more mainstream social networking sites, such as MySpace and Facebook, the dissemination of sexualized (self) material enables an immediate and transient mobility throughout cyberspace. But the implied world the girls occupy is also physical. Hence, the “fucking your way out of your hometown.” The means of physical transportation through the exploitation of female sexuality is explored in the latter parts of the film. Nevertheless, the film's introduction establishes a theme of San Dimas' and Skye's worlds, and how they migrate through them.

But back to OMDK's depiction of the Internet: the address of such anonymous image boards, often with links to video, is an acknowledgment to a very recent phenomenon that may very well be the destruction of the very industry McKai has become a part of. Taormino writes,“There's a segment of the adult industry that resists change and is fearful when something different comes along. As these folks cling to their old ways, the generation gap between producers and consumers grows, and producers scramble to figure out how to appeal to people under 30 who think current porn is outdated, unsophisticated, and boring. Not all twenty-somethings are turned on by Alt-Porn, but it taps into a new market that I believe wouldn't buy porn otherwise” (Taormino par 6). While Alt-Porn provides an available outlet for young people or those seeking diverse aesthetics, its commodified form still competes with the rapidly increasing availability of free content (whether pirated or independently produced), such as that posted on imageboards. Yet, that is the market McKai is trying to reach: those disenchanted by mainstream media, including pornography. So in casting talent such as Andy San Dimas, McKai recognizes the dichotomy between commodifiable pornography and a community based around free amateur production and distribution of content. And he merges them. In doing so, McKai attempts to establish a sort of clout with the community which would otherwise pirate commercially distributed work. Further, he provides one of the avenues in which young, sexually adventurous females can transition from cyberspace mobility to physical migration (i.e. digital image distribution versus physical and economic mobility).

However, in On My Dirty Knees, it is not only the female who experiences mobility. The second “chapter” of the film, in which the first actual sex scene takes place, is introduced as “It's a BF/GF Thing.” Andy San Dimas is shown with her real-life boyfriend, who goes by the name of Vin Vericose (he also wears a Napalm Death shirt, visually tying him to alternative music subculture-grindcore). Prior to the film, San Dimas and Vericose produced amateur content together to create a certain presence in the online community. By attaching himself to his girlfriend, Vin Vericose allowed himself to appear in OMDK, a legitimate adult feature. The physical migration, for both of them, then comes simply from the financial exchange for sexual acts filmed primarily in Los Angeles (the LA river and a pedestrian overpass above the 2 Freeway act as regional landmarks), a relatively long ways from the place they call home: Minnesota. It opens up the possibility for a new career choice, and therefore a new living situation in Southern California, a place already populated by those looking to “make it” in some capacity. San Dimas says, in the film, “I've been to beauty school, I've been to community college. I quit right away... because it wasn't what I wanted to do. I'm not high maintenance or anything like that... I just got really bored... I saw bigger things and better things out there for me, things I wanted to do. I just want to be big.” Her monologue suggests the youthful disenchantment with one's immediate surroundings and a choice (contextually) to exploit her sexuality as a means of escaping them. Just as the academic may use “going away to college” as a device to flee his home town, San Dimas seems to experience pornography as a coming-of-age ritual, something to snap the metaphoric umbilicus that ties her to a possible stale upbringing. To confirm that desire, I have since found out that both San Dimas and Vericose have returned to Los Angeles for more adult work, and plan to move permanently this coming August.

However, McKai demonstrates other ways in which the young female can accomplish physical mobility through transitions starting in the online community. A later chapter in the film, featuring Violet Skye, is introduced with the title “Micro Fame Fucker.” It opens with Skye arriving at a young man's apartment. It is unclear exactly what the young man does, but it's suggested that he produces work that attracts a certain audience, an audience Skye happens to be a part of. Essentially, he is micro-famous, an internet artist perhaps (someone akin to McKai, who suggests the sequence is reminiscent of his real-life experience), a face not necessarily recognizable when he walks down the street, but still followed by a substantial amount of online fans. In the scenario, the arrival of Sky with her backpack (as if she's traveled), and the subsequent conversation, suggests that it's the two's first time meeting in person, but that they've contacted each other through any one of the Internet's communication devices. Because of the film's earlier references to image/video dissemination, it is further suggested that she has attracted the attention of the micro-famer by means of her independently produced, sexualized content. This type of exchange appears almost as the post- “ethnosexual adventurer” described by University of Kansas Sociology Professor, Joane Nagel. She describes the “adventurer” as “someone who undertakes expeditions across cultural divides for recreational, casual, or 'exotic' sexual encounters, often more than once, but who return to their sexual home bases after each excursion” (Nagel 14). In the Post-Alt generation, the cultural boundary is nullified by cyber-interaction, community standards defined less by region than by ideology and aesthetics. However, the adventure is still exoticized by a perceived “nearness” to fame. In effect, the same sort of ritual is enacted to cut the metaphoric umbilicus and remove ones-self from identification with the home and supposed normalcy. San Dimas' quote of, “My mom didn't ever teach me how to be a girl,” takes on an almost Freudian significance, suggesting that even the female has a necessity to physically break away from the maternal figure in order to establish identity.

The importance of gender in the latter example (“Micro Fame Fucker”) comes from the removal of the heterosexual male anomaly, such as Vin Vericose. The heterosexual male performer is occasionally allowed the same access to mobility as the female due to the necessity of the phallus in hetero-porn. But in non-documented (hetero) sexual interaction, it is almost entirely restricted to the female. The promise of sexual interaction allows the sexually adventurous female to migrate through other cities, states, and perhaps countries, to fulfill sexual promises, and enact her own escape or exploration. The act brings up an interesting question about exploitation in terms of who's using who. The micro-famer (male) can be said to exploit the young girl through use of her body for sexual gratification, but that explanation is almost too simplistic. It denies the female's ability to acknowledge her sexuality as a means of empowerment, or at least a means of extracting resources. Whether or not there is financial exchange akin to prostitution, the assumed travel costs, room and board, etc... provided by the male suggest an agency in the female, or ability to navigate her environment consciously by means of sexual behavior.

Further, McKai's depiction of the males who facilitate Skye's sexual migration are decidedly awkward in comparison to her demeanor. Both young men fumble over attempts to make her feel comfortable, such as describing the eating/sleeping/bathing arrangements or providing her with something to drink. Her responses are short and concise compared to the young men's stutters and long-winded ramblings. In essence, she appears more in control, aware of the sexual acts to come, but unwilling to concede to porno-esque fantasies that would make her male counterpart's job that much easier. In one scenario, a mutual strip-game is interrupted when the boy, Dane Cross (a young man who allows Skye to crash at his place), asks, “What are you laughing at?” to which she simply smiles (physically towering over him) and replies, “You're cute.” The exchange suggests the male's need for affirmation, and not the other way around.

The major complication to the film, though, comes in the last sequence, featuring Andy San Dimas. She is shown walking around an office environment, using the copy machine, etc... A piece of text reads, “This job sounds nice.” The image then fades out and reappears in a separate environment: a small porn studio, in which she is greeted by a single man, one of the industry's decidedly creepier scenarios (producer, photographer, and “cocksman” all in one person – no one to act as a buffer if things get out of hand). The text shows up again to explain, “...but this pays the bills.” Because the sequence ends the film chronologically, it suggests that after the sexually escapist episodes of migration, the female still retains a desire to display traits of normalcy. The office job is not financially adequate but she remains there because of its implications of middle-class, bourgeoisie identity. The sequence seems as if it's the only time the film passes judgment, as if to say San Dimas' desire for something “bigger” was attributed to false hope. She has left her home, only to reenact the remnants of her parents' lifestyle elsewhere. The sexual escapism still exists, but in private, and without the romanticism.

In conclusion, McKai has crafted a work that addresses a post-Alt-Porn generation's access, desire, and active pursuit of sexual mobility through online and physical spaces. In doing so, he also engages a community of media producers and piraters that inherently undermine the financial viability of pornography as an industry. The commodification versus (sub) culture dichotomy continues throughout the piece in examining counterculture young women in their attempt to escape hegemonic “normalcy,” and ends with an almost cynical attitude towards the ability for contemporary youth to do so. Nevertheless, the film is brave in depicting the female in a conscious struggle to empower herself through upward mobility by means of her sexuality. It is able to do this because of the nature of the niche McKai has created. Unlike most hetero-pornography that defines the female star(s) as an object for which the spectator enacts a fantasy upon, and thus separates the performer from a psycho-social being capable of agency, Alt-Porn is marketed to those who define themselves by a certain subcultural identity, and therefore it acknowledges that identity and seeks to reinforce it. In this way, On My Dirty Knees works to construct the participants of the film as identifiable to the spectator, furthering a sense of community through sexual dialog.





Works Cited
1. Nagel, Joane. 2003. Race, Ethnicity, and Sexuality. Oxford University Press: New York

2. Smith, David. 2008. “The 20-year-old at heart of web's most anarchic and influential site.” In The Observer, http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2008/jul/20/internet.google

3. Taormino, Tristan. 2005. “The Prince of Alt Porn: Director Eon McKai leads a new generation of smut makers.” In The Village Voice, http://www.villagevoice.com/2005-11-08/columns/the- prince- alt-porn/2