If you were one of the dozen or so who saw Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, you may have forgotten the music or jokes already, but odds are you remember the man-meat scenes—yes, I speak of unclad penis. Not just a sudden flash or streak mind you, I’m talking about an anonymous dude (supposedly Judd Apatow) who strolls into frame from navel down with the seed spreader hanging free and proud. As a not-to-subtle jab at Hollywood’s double-standard for male vs. female nudity, the scene is the bee’s knees.
Hollywood wallpapers films with female anatomy. Duh. No secret there. And I’m not complaining. I love seeing boobies and cooters as much as the next guy or lesbian. But what about the schlong? It’s a rarity when the third leg sails across the silver screen (although, between Walk Hard, Bart Simpson’s baby radish, and Eastern Promises‘ cock-fight, I’d say 2007 was a banner year for dick and balls).
I’m a true believer in equality, and if Hollywood carts out the lady parts like a wholesale meat market, then why shouldn’t the man tackle be trotted out. It’s only fair. I know, I know, we live in a sexually repressed culture. It’s hideous how lame we are. The old Simpson‘s episode about putting pants on Michelangelo’s “David” was prophetic, especially after Janet Jackson’s nipple caused children’s eyes to bleed a few years back. Yet, as hung up as the thought police are on the womanly goods, they absolutely will not tolerate a public dong.
Take two movies: one shows a lady doing jumping jacks in her birthday suit, the other shows a butt naked dude doing the same. Which film makes the collective brain of the MPAA sizzle quicker? Hmm, that’s right; I bet my entire Jose Canseco card collection the MPAA slaps “Jumpin’ Jack Floppin’ Sack” with a NC-17 faster than it takes Larry King to prove he’s got shit for brains whenever he opens his trap.
Here’s another example of the double standard. When a stark-naked Viggo Mortensen pummeled the hell out of two goons in Eastern Promises, critics were like, “Oh how brave of Mr. Mortensen.” Yet, remember Old School where some ladies wrestled as God intended them to (in K-Y Jelly, no less)? Well, I don’t recall hearing a goddamn peep from the critics regarding the courageousness of those actresses in undertaking such a scene. What kind of bullshit is that?
And why does America gasp every time Mr. Winky makes an appearance? Literally gasp or giggle or say, “ahh man, gross.” Yeah you know what I’m talking about. You’re sitting in a theater and a pecker makes a rare appearance. Some geezer huffs real loud as if cocks didn’t exist back in his day. A woman giggles as if she’s only gotten laid in the dark and has never seen one before. And some douchebag guy has to prove to the crowd he’s not a gay by voicing his displeasure about on-screen man-wand, as if he doesn’t see one every time he pisses. Where do these assholes come from, and why are they everywhere?
Personally, when Johnson and company grace my pupils I do what every other guy is doing but won’t admit to: I compare. Can’t deny I’m quite jealous of Vincent Gallo, but it comforts me at night knowing my package outweighs Ralph Fiennes.
Ultimately, the penis is just another chunk of human anatomy. It’s not going to pop out of the screen and stab you. Nor will it make your hair fall out if you see one. It’s no different than looking at female genitalia. If you think differently, well Good Sir or Lady, you are, by clinical definition, mentally retarded.
