DOUBLE BILL: Bijou (1972) + Sex Demon (1975) at Annihilation Eve

A rough transcript of my introduction for a homoerotic, X-rated double bill. Screened as part of my season THE SUMMER OF SKIN with Paraphysis Cinema.

---

First up, we have Bijou, a dazzlingly psychedelic trip into the belly of desire and its inherently transformative quality — by a pioneer of the genre, Wakefield Poole.

Before he became a filmmaker, Poole was part of the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo in 1957, serving as both a dancer and choreographer. Eventually, he transitioned into television and Broadway direction during the '60s, which is how he found his way into making his debut film, Boys in the Sand. Released in December 1971, before 'Deep Throat' fame propelled adult movies into the public consciousness, Boys in the Sand was the first gay pornographic film to go mainstream — earning back all its production and marketing costs in just a few days. And, I’m pretty sure, it's still the only X-rated porn film ever reviewed by The New York Times.

A year later, Poole released his second film — a nod to his theatre roots. Bijou was one of the most common names for a theatre in the U.S. at the time, and I think it’s French for “jewel” or “trinket.”

In Bijou, the erotic ambience takes centre stage — bedazzled, oscillating curtains give way to mirrored rooms, privileging atmosphere over the porno chic era’s obsession with the “money shot.” What’s interesting about Poole’s direction is that he’s not just putting men in a room and going, “Okay, now you bend over and fuck him from behind.” kinda thing. But rather, as he says in an interview:

“I got two people who were attracted to each other and let them go. I didn’t direct anything. I set up a safe place for them to play, and although I had a general sense of what I wanted, orgasms were really not important to me. What was important to me was two people relating to one another and experiencing all the things that go with having sex. That includes the insecurities.”

The energy of these scenes rides on that vulnerability — the wordless tenderness of surrender, and those moments of ambivalence that contribute to sex as something transformative.

Toward the middle of the film, the climactic orgy scene feels almost ritualistic — devotional — in the way it presents erotic engagement between men. Our silent construction worker, played by Bill Harrison, takes this courageous plunge into the unknown when he steps into Bijou, and that’s a feeling many of us can relate to, to succumb to the Other; something necessary to the Erotic experience.

Our silent construction worker leaving the Bijou after the most transformative experience of his life.

---

Second on the bill tonight is Sex Demon, an unsettling entry in the “demon twink” canon — the other side of the coin, really. It’s a psychotropic treasure of queer underground exploitation cinema that was remarkably found in a collector’s pile of old porno reels by film historian and programmer Elizabeth Purcell, around 40 years after it had stopped circulating.

Sex Demon is the first film by J.C. Cricket — a familiar face in Times Square, where he worked as an erotic dancer at the famous Gaiety Theatre. A place visited by the likes of Madonna, Andy Warhol, John Waters, Divine — the works.

Jimminy Cricket was a bit of an anomaly among gay filmmakers — just 20 years old when he directed this feature. The cast is made up of other burlesque dancers and staff from the Gaiety, offering a kind of snapshot of the social melting pot that was New York at the time. The sex scenes include men from a range of ethnicities, reflecting the real inter-community mingling that spaces like cinemas, bars, and theatres facilitated — though this dynamic, even then, remained underrepresented in porn. And when “interracial” scenes did appear, they were often steeped in a racialised power dynamic — something that, sadly, we still see in pornography today.

The connection to The Exorcist is mostly surface-level — mainly the demonic possession bit — but hey, that’s classic marketing: loosely base a porno on a blockbuster and you’re halfway there.

Stylistically, Sex Demon has a lot to say for itself. The rapid, dynamic editing is a welcome relief from the often-horrifically long, static takes common in the genre. There’s a real sense of horror here — or at least anxiety — about queer domesticity. This unravels from the curse of the antique pendant John gives his lover, Jim. The gift — or curse — becomes a kind of madness that blurs the lines between pleasure and pain, violence and eroticism.

From my experience, I’d say there are roughly two types of pornos from this era. One feels long, with barely any story — just wall-to-wall hardcore — and functioned mostly just as background projection for public sex in cinemas and theatres. The other has a story, weaving the hardcore scenes into something bigger. In those, sex is the material that holds together wider philosophical or social questions of the day. Sex Demon (along with Bijou) fits into the latter.

Sex Demon harnesses the energy of arty exploitation, riding the coattails of campy humour and narrative curiosity — a queer anxiety emerging through the lens of 1975. It’s a long-lost film that surfaces from the rough: a diamond of pornographic horror, and a little historical document of the performers and workers of the infamous Gaiety Theatre.

tfw possessed

Before we begin, I just want to pay quick lip service to the Online Safety Act that has recently come into effect. This is a law that effectively deplatforms sex workers, making it harder for them to safely do their jobs — all under the guise of “protecting children.” Sound familiar? (*cough* Section 28) It places blame on pornography for what is really a failure of comprehensive sex education and media literacy.

Part of my enthusiasm for screening porn — aside from being a pervert — comes from hearing so much black-and-white thinking around it: that it’s evil, tainted by patriarchy. But I think this stance often refuses to recognise that many people — especially queer people — are out there creating ethical pornography, free from exploitation.

As a philosophical medium, it’s deeply human. It’s been around since prehistoric cave drawings, right up to today — and it’s not going anywhere. Pornographers are our friends. They help us explore the vast landscape of fantasy and sexuality — or reflect the ills of the world around us. Their work cuts through the bullshit of conservative values that would rather repress or whisper about what is, essentially, a basic fact of life.

So with that said — I really hope you enjoy these two films!

xx