Overthinking It is celebrating our nation by searching for the most American piece of pop culture with the word “American” in the title. Read the entire series here.
Not just anyone can make sweeping judgments about entertainment, though. That’s our job. Ladies and gentlemen, these are the most ‘Merican pieces of pop culture about sex.
American Woman vs. American Girl
This is particularly difficult for “American Girl,” because most of the lyrics are about how she has, like, hopes and dreams and stuff. “She couldn’t help thinking that there / was a little more to life / somewhere else. /After all, it was a great big world.” (Yawnsville, am I right fellas? Fellas?)
The only really sexual part is the chorus.
Oh yeah, all right
take it easy baby
make it last all night
She was an American girl
I suppose there’s all kinds of things that you could be trying to make last all night. A pint of Ben & Jerry’s. Your dwindling supply of firewood, as the wolves circle ever closer. But the most natural interpretation of this line is sexual. The narrator of the song – presumably a guy, if we’re being heteronormative – is trying to draw out his encounter with the American girl as long as he possibly can. Which is a little jarring. Weren’t we just talking about her childhood? When did we end up in bed?
However we got there, the chorus of “Girl” paints an unlovely picture of American sexuality. Here’s what we learn:
- The average American sexual encounter is disappointingly short. (If they were already having satisfying sex, he wouldn’t be ordering her to prolong it.)
- The expectations that are being placed on American girls are wildly unrealistic. Make it last all night? Like, twelve-hours all night, sundown-to-sunup all night? Dude, even Sting was satisfied with just seven hours.
There’s one more important line to consider. At the end of the second verse, we find the girl reminiscing:
And for one desperate moment there
He crept back in her memory
God it’s so painful
Something that’s so close
And still so far out of reach.
There are a couple of ways to read this, but I think the most obvious one is:
- Even after twelve hours with the dude, she didn’t quite manage to climax. And years later, she’s still kind of pissed off about it. (I mean, I would be.) As we shall see, inadequacy turns out to be a recurring theme for this contest…
So what do The Guess Who actually have to say about the American woman? Well, they spend a lot of time telling her to leave. They don’t like the way that she tries to make herself pretty (“colored lights can hypnotize”), which implicitly calls for a more natural – and presumably Canadian? – type of beauty. It’s hard to know what to make of the “war machines/ghetto scenes” couplet, if we’re taking the song literally, but it probably means something similar: the American woman is technological, urban, and impoverished; the Canadian woman lives a life of agrarian rural leisure, Anne of Green Gables style. Finally, the problem with the American woman is that she’s too available. She keeps hangin’ around, keeps knockin’ around. The tag “no more” at the end of “don’t wanna see your face no more” is significant: it tells us that seeing her face has become habitual, and it’s a habit they’re trying to break.
Which of these songs gives the most ‘Merican account of female sexuality? Well, if you take a careful look at what we were able to draw out of “American Girl,” it turns out that the sexual stuff is actually mostly about the guy. His expectations, his desires, his shortcomings. I’m slightly tempted to say that a fundamental lack of interest in female sexuality IS the most American way to engage with female sexuality… but not that tempted. On the other hand, “American Woman” is probably not about American women at all. It came out in 1970: obviously, it’s a Vietnam protest song (as was legally required at the time). So neither contender looks particularly strong in this matchup.
As it turns out, the only way to arrive at a clear winner here is to view each song through the lens of male desire. (Overthinkingit.com: Part of the Problem™) If we do assume that “American Woman” is about a literal woman, it’s a song about how much the male narrator doesn’t want to sleep with her. In “American Girl,” on the other hand, the narrator definitely wants to sleep with her. I ask you: which of these is more ‘Merican? (While you ponder it, keep in mind that the American girl’s subjective experiences — what she cares about, what she wants out of life — only ever come up in the verses, while the narrator’s lust is confined to the chorus. ‘Merican doesn’t always mean good.)
Winner: American Girl
American vs. American Boy
And now we move on to the masculinity sub-bracket. The songs in this one are a lot more directly concerned with sex, or at least with the sexual suitability of their objects. (“American Boy” is about how great it would be to date Kanye West in the same sense that “Brown Eyed Girl” is about how great it was to date the brown eyed girl, and “Whatta Man” is about how great it is to date someone with a body like Arnold and a Denzel face.)
The “American” part of the lyrics is very oblique. It’s all one run-on sentence, starting here:
You make me crazy, you make me wild
Just like a baby, spin me round like a child
Your skin so golden brown
Be young be dope be proud
Like an American.
Who’s like an American, now? The only way to make grammatical sense of it is to reduce it to “You make me… be young, be dope, be proud,” in which case it’s her. If it’s him, you end up with “You… be young, etc.,” which is a barbarism, but it’s not like pop lyrics have to by grammatically correct, and that part of the lyric (starting with the “skin” line) seems more closely focused on the guy. I think this ambiguity is intentional: he is American, therefore she is American (and young, dope, etc.) when she’s around him.
So which is the most American concept of a sexually attractive man? I mean, I guess it can be two things: actual attraction is probably a mix of concrete material traits and inscrutable spiritual essence. But if we have to pick just one, the laurels go to “American.” Our pop culture is gradually getting more comfortable with the idea of objectifying men, but there’s still a gendered cultural model of desire in which the man is supposed to be attracted to the woman, and the woman is supposed to be attracted to the fantasy of being attractive for the man. Also, I don’t think that America as a nation is ready for a world in which guys are openly judged for their fashion choices.
Winner: American
American Gigolo vs. The Last American Virgin
Nevertheless, if you are a scholar of the teen sex comedy genre, you have GOT to watch The Last American Virgin. (As a film it’s pretty well shite, but it’s a goldmine for gifs.) Tell me that this doesn’t say something profound about America:
What’s revealing here is that the making-out girl gets pushed up against the couch girl, while the popcorn guy stares wistfully at the making-out guy. We’ve talked before on this website about homosociality: a kind of sexual economy in which the woman is the medium of exchange (or possibly just the venue) for an erotic or romantic transaction between two men. The Last American Virgin has got to be the homosocialest movie of all time. The kernel of the plot is a love triangle involving the two close male friends and the new girl in town (which is already pretty suspicious). Then, on not one but TWO separate occasions, the two boys and their comic-relief fat friend line up to take turns doinking a promiscuous older woman. And to top it all off, of course – don’t go clicking this link, now — there’s the literal dick-measuring contest, which envisions American sexuality as a parade of hopeful erections. I told you not to click! Now look what you did.
Last Virgin’s model of sexuality is exclusively male (which is regrettable, but not — alas — particularly un-American), and to the degree that female sexuality exists in this film at all, it’s supposed to be scary. Here’s a short list of the things that the boys get from their erotic entanglements with women:
- humiliated in front of their parents
- pubic lice
- existential dread
- chased by an angry sailor
- pregnancy scares
- heartbreak
- brutal shoe beatings
This sense that women are an outright danger is kind of a new take on the classic homosocial narrative. If the classic model can be pictured as two men leisurely passing a cigar back and forth, the Last Virgin model is more like a game of hot potato. Except that one of the guys is like “no: give ME the hot potato. I want it to burn me. In the purging fires of its heat I will prove my love!” And the other guy is a lot more charming and good looking, and abandons the potato as soon as he gets in its pants. (Maybe this isn’t actually a good metaphor.)
But all the stuff that American Gigolo finds horrifying feels decidedly tame by 2016 standards. Like, I listen to Dan Savage’s podcast: there was a call a few months back where a woman asked for detailed technical advice about preventing her husband’s [bleep] from slipping out of her [bloop] during intercourse, and NEITHER OF THOSE CENSORED WORDS ARE THE ONES YOU’RE PROBABLY THINKING ABOUT. She was totally blasé about this, and so was Dan. It’s not like she and her husband were staring into the abyss of flesh: for them, this was a typical Saturday. And now I’m supposed to be horrified because the American Gigolo sends the camera on a stroll through a gay club on leather night?
Structurally, this scene is supposed to be about as low as Julian ever gets. Real belly-of-the-whale stuff. But what was supposed to play as “Ooh, menacing gay people! How gritty!” actually plays as “Gay people have cool parties; also, nothing happens in this scene.” Protip: if you want Hell to feel unappealing, get someone other than Giorgio flippin’ Moroder to do the soundtrack. (Here’s a link to “I Feel Love,” the second massive hit Moroder created for Donna Summer. Not because it’s relevant or anything, just because I like you and I want you to be happy.)
Anyway, I’m very glad to report that the structural homophobia that American Gigolo is built around no longer feels American at all. You should for sure watch it: it’s so pretty to look at — did you see that color balance, though? — and Moroder is a disco god. But if it was ever ‘Merican, that time has past.
Winner: The Last American Virgin
American Pie vs. American Courtesans
And that’s really all you need to know about it. I mean, sure, the plot, four guys try to have sex before prom night, who cares. Here is American Pie’s thesis about American sexuality: WAAAAAAANT! CAAANNOOTT HAAAAVE!
Because American Pie is not really about sex. American Pie is about desire, humiliation, and the idea that desire causes humiliation. Whether it’s Oz getting mocked by Stifler for his sensitive-guy feelings, or Jim going off half-cocked (as it were) with Nadia, trying to have sex only ever ends in shame. The very experience of desire makes you worthless and unf__kable. The only way to achieve sex is to stop wanting sex: ask the band geek to the prom, tell your girlfriend that you respect her boundaries, etc., at which point, like some sort of blueballed arhat, you’re immediately whisked away to the promised land. Does this make any sense? No. But look at all the guys who already ARE having sex. Do they walk around all day drowning in the ferment of their own rancid lust? Surely not: they’re having sex. So you can see how a person might get confused.
As in Last Virgin, this is an exclusively male picture of sexuality. I’m not saying that women don’t deal with a similar bind: the point is that the movie doesn’t care. Women, in American Pie, are overflowing vessels of sex. They might want or not want to have sex at any particular time, but a woman losing her god-damned mind over sex the way all the men do is as nonsensical as water getting thirsty.
By the way: I could write a whole other article about everything that’s wrong with the “warm apple pie line,” but I’ll limit myself to one: is Oz suggesting that vaginas have, like… chunks? (Whatever, he’s supposed to be a stupid teenager, this is immaterial.)
Where Pie reduces women to vagina-havers, the whole thesis of Courtesans is that its subjects are more than that. Their stories are compelling, unguarded, and occasionally brutal… and very far from sexy. These women aren’t against sex, mind you, and several of them speak warmly about the physical aspect of their job. But they seem to see it as a kind of affective labor, analogous with childcare, geriatric care, nursing, and the like. They take pride in helping their clients, but none of them seem excited by sex for its own sake.
So there’s desire in this movie, but not sexual desire: it’s desire for money, or power, or healing, or freedom. And sex can be all those things, of course… but try telling that to America! Our culture has always tried to pretend that sex is simultaneously A: the transcendent culmination of a deeply spiritual romance, B: a bit of harmless fun, and C: shameful and wrong. Which are pretty much the things that American Pie suggests sex is.
Next to Courtesans, Pie looks shallow. (Not to mention rapey. How that webcam scene made the final edit…) But at the end of the day, we’re faced with the question of which is more American: an unflinching look at the complex, sometimes grim, sometimes touching reality of a sex worker’s lived experience? Or the glitzy aura of desire that our culture projects over every sexually available female?
Yeah.
Winner: American Pie. And God have mercy on our souls.
Here’s how the bracket looks after round 2.
Next week, we’re going to try to keep things wholesome: what is the most American pop cultural depiction of family?