Since we don't have the use of our sterling stripcreator and our contests have ground to a halt, I offer you this to read. It's a term paper of my cousin's.

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100 pounds of shit in a 25 pound sack.

A Critical Analysis of Deep Throat
by William Dewey

In 1968 Roland Barthes called for the death of the Author. He wanted more emphasis placed on the reader in literary analysis, and he argued that the Author had become too much part of the focus. Four years later, Deep Throat popularized the X-rated film, a medium that offers a perfect application of Barthes’ theories. Criticism of Deep Throat, and, indeed, of pornography in general, rarely focuses on the Filmmaker. X-rated film critics do not consider the society, the history, or the psyche of the Filmmaker. They analyze the work, and the messages contained within that work, only insofar as those messages relate to the viewer. The Author—the artist, the filmmaker—is not only dead in the metaphorical sense that Barthes’ suggested in his essay; he has never even been truly alive since the conception of the medium. The Filmmaker is a stillborn, and the viewer is vibrant.

Pornography further separates itself from traditional literature in its relation to the real world. Realism is a quality highly valued in literature, a quality inherent in nearly every required reading for high school students. Pornography, in direct contrast to classic literature, does not even attempt to depict situations with any significant realism. Most X-rated films avoid a plot entirely, and those that do employ one usually do so in a manner completely dissimilar to the real world. The emphasis in pornography is placed on actions—bizarre, unlikely actions—rather than a plot that the viewer could imagine actually unfolding in “real life.”
The lack of a storyline very often leads to the lack of characters. Although many times the actors in hard-core films assume a certain persona, such an act is usually unnecessary. Without a plot, the actors in the film have no reason to create a living, breathing, believable entity on the screen, and they consequently exist only for the intercourse. Since there are no emotional traits to the average pornographic film “character,” the viewer can focus only on the physical aspects. Because all the males are well-endowed, and all the women are slim and busty, X-rated films exemplify the type of literature Jonathan Culler calls “an ideological instrument: a set of stories that seduce the reader into accepting the hierarchical arrangements of society” (39). Rather than challenge the social norms, most pornographic films choose to enforce them by portraying characters who are physically attractive according to the predetermined standards of society.

Deep Throat is one such film that acts as an ideological instrument. It is similar to the popular stag films which preceded it in its treatment of sexual stereotypes, but it is unique in its actual attempt to form a coherent plot. Linda Williams points out that, “whereas the one-reel stag gets down to its sexual business very quickly,” Deep Throat “problematizes satisfaction itself” (110). To try to outline the plot, however, would be a curious exercise. It does not exactly follow the traditional linear trajectory of the classic, readerly text, nor is it a framed story—a box within a box. It is rather a series of sometimes unrelated or semi-related vignettes, some of which are resolved, or put to rest, and some of which are seemingly forgotten about or ignored. That which was praised for plot when the movie was originally released is really only a gimmick or the setup for that gimmick: the protagonist, Linda Lovelace, has a clitoris in the back of her throat.

The character who delivers this dreadful diagnosis is Dr. Young. Rather than waste screen time establishing the intellectual depth and wisdom of Miss Lovelace’s benefactor, the filmmaker simply gives him the title of doctor—a position which, in this movie, includes expertise in the fields of psychology, gynecology, and procurement. Young’s title should immediately lead the viewer to respect him as an authority figure and one with absolute knowledge on any given subject. In this stripped down version of reality, a white uniform is more important than a doctorate.

Later in the film Linda Lovelace shaves her pubic hair in an act which brings her closer—physically—to childhood, and thus imparts to the viewer a sense of her childlike naïveté. That Wilbur is mesmerized by watching the shaving ritual should not be interpreted as a manifestation of pedophilic tendencies, rather the viewer should understand that, because of his weakness and his poor self-esteem, Wilbur desires the sensation of having power over somebody else. This power becomes easier to obtain as Lovelace becomes more like an innocent child. The shorn pelvis of Linda Lovelace, like the white uniform of Dr. Young and the nurse’s outfit of his assistants, is a physical characteristic that conveys certain mental or emotional traits.

The story that follows Miss Lovelace’s visit to Dr. Young is one that is apparently unrelated to the real world. In spite of—or perhaps because of—the fact that Miss Lovelace has no apparent career, she can quickly assume the role of nurse, simply by donning a white dress short enough to reveal her naked derriere whenever she bends over. In the world of X-rated movies, the occupation of nurse more closely resembles that of a French maid than that of a physician’s assistant: the outfit is what is important. She does not actually perform any duties a nurse would be expected to perform—she possesses skills more suited to an amateur sword swallower—but she does an excellent job of walking around with a clip board and trying to keep a serious look on her face. This detachment from the real world does not invoke in the viewers any sense of scorn or even disbelief; they accept what happens unreservedly, and continue watching the movie with breathless enthrallment.

This ersatz tendency of pornography is one trait that differentiates it from eroticism. The fine line between pornos and erotic films is very often blurred. Some might classify Deep Throat as an erotic film, but it is difficult to argue against Ellen Willis’s claim that the film is “about as erotic as a tonsillectomy” (220). Eroticism requires a certain amount of tenderness, or passion. Deep Throat contains neither. When a man is drinking Coca-Cola out of a hollow artificial phallus in his partner’s vagina, he can only be so tender and so passionate. That is not to say the movie is artless. It does not for a moment pretend to be erotic. The sex scenes are presented with a sort of detached amusement, offering more a feeling of juvenile delight than of mature sexual arousal. On the level of serious representation of sexual acts, Deep Throat undoubtedly fails, and Nora Ephron’s claim that the film is anti-sexual (65) seems reasonable. There exists, however, another level on which Deep Throat can be understood: the sex scenes in the film function as a complex metaphor.

The protagonist’s search for an orgasm that makes “bells ring, dams burst, and bombs go off” symbolizes the average person’s search for happiness or ultimate meaning. In this sense, Linda Lovelace is, even with her bizarre handicap, a type of Everyman. Her quest is not specific to her but relevant to all who would search for that which eludes them, whether it be an orgasm or the meaning of life. Miss Lovelace looks to the standard place—between her legs—in her search, much as others would look to standard places like religion and science in their search. The point the filmmaker is trying to make, then, is not such a subtle one. Happiness, like an orgasm tantamount to exploding rockets, cannot be found in the obvious places. Those who would hope to find it must look deeper.

The same sexual metaphor is carried through to the end of the movie and explicitly stated by Wilbur in the final scene. When told by Linda Lovelace that she intends to marry a man with a nine inch penis, Wilbur immediately calls Dr. Young and asks if he can perform the reduction operation, informing the doctor that he is “only four inches away from pure happiness.” The controlling idea is not that Wilbur always measures happiness in inches, but that he sees a direct correlation between being fellated by Linda Lovelace and being absolutely and irretrievably happy. Indeed, in the last few minutes, when the money shot coincides with launching rockets and ringing bells, both Wilbur and Linda look as if they really have achieved sheer, unadulterated bliss.

Works Sited
Culler, Jonathan. Literary Theory: A Very Short Introduction. New York: Oxford University Press. 1997.
Deep Throat. Dir. Gerard Damiano. With Linda Lovelace and Harry Reems. Arrow. 1972.
Ephron, Nora. “Deep Throat.” Crazy Salad: Some Things About Women. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1975. 61-66.
Williams, Linda. Hard Core: Power, Pleasure, and the Frenzy of the Visible. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1989.
Willis, Ellen. “Deep Throat: Hard to Swallow.” Sexuality in the Movies. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1975. 216-220.

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100 pounds of shit in a 25 pound sack.