I’m taking a break from writing about social issues, arguing in the forums, and perhaps publishing just a few too many photography hubs to write my first Hot and Sexy Article. I thought it might bring up my hub score a bit—or something—as I have heard that even publishing prose about lacy underwear works very well.

Of course, in keeping with another hub I’m currently writing, about First Amendment rights (but sometimes that stuff just gets so heavy and I have to put it down), my article here will definitely have redeeming social and artistic merit, and will not be mere pornography. Actually, it would have to, because for me, without those added ingredients, I do seem to get bored very quickly.

I honestly would have no issue with pornography being censored (and please don’t someone take that as a literal statement)!

Because, to put it graphically, I suppose pornography is a little akin to having a bad one night stand vs. having art—which can range from anything from good to the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Anyway, now that I’ve caught your attention, you might want to grab some popcorn and get your Netflix, (or preferably Amazon), handy. This hub will flow in the same way as MY Top Ten Books of All Time; as an off-the-top-of-my-head list of bests as I remember them, in no real particular order:

The Lover (1992)

It doesn’t get any hotter than this (OK, well, perhaps for certain types of writers).

It also spurred an interest for me in the French author Marguerite Duras. The story is told loosely using biographical facts from her life, as she remembers her adolescence and young adulthood in French Colonial Vietnam circa 1929.

The plotline is concentrated on the relationship between the young Catholic colonial school girl and her 27-year-old Chinese lover—who she may or may not be sleeping with for money. Perhaps she doesn’t know what she feels, as at this point, this is her first experience with erotic love. Perhaps in a preternatural knowledge, she is aware of her power over her lover. The tension of the cultural and economic situation surrounding the forbidden love adds enormously to the, well, sexiness of the film. The excellent writing combined with lush sights and sounds of a location that comes alive, fused with truly physically beautiful sex scenes does as well. It is a sensual experience in every sense of the word.

The movie is ultimately about sexual awakening and awareness. It could be about virginal awareness; and it is. It is also about the first flush of a truly passionate engagement—which can happen at any time in life. The one scene I distinctly remember is when both characters, after consummating their sexual arrangement a few times, have developed a strong desire for each other—one so intense, that after quickly pulling his lover into an off street room, the two of them have sex on the floor, just inside the door, separated from the din of the street by only and thin screen.

The movie ends with the narrator, once the young girl, by now a famous novelist many times over and probably in her 60’s by this point, writing at a desk. She receives a phone call from her Chinese lover from years ago—telling her that he loves her.

The reason all this ‘satisfies’ so deeply is that all elements are engaged. And I believe Duras hints or proves that D.H. Lawrence—another master of the erotic—was probably right about sex and love. (And if you want to know more about that, you’ll just have to read his books!) For starters, see this movie.

Unfaithful (2002)

I may be coming down from my literary high horse here, perhaps, but actually—I don’t think too much so.

This film just basically crackles. Seriously hot sexual tension, the forbidden, jealousy, and a murder—set in a kind of visual noir atmosphere if film buff types notice—can it get any better?

And of course both Diane Lane and Olivier Martinez are beautiful to watch. Particularly Olivier Martinez, in a tousled, boyish, reminds-me-of-my-one-graduate-school-boyfriend sorta way. He also has gorgeous lips, and that scene where he is kissing down Diane Lane’s stomach is just too much, so to speak. Let’s face it, this is the type of guy you’d have sex with in a stall in the women’s bathroom of some chic little Soho restaurant while your gabbing girlfriends are talking about their dull domestic lives, then come back to the table, looking flushed, fully ravished and ravishing. In a heart beat.

I think the big thing with this movie is that the flow and the plot is so well done—it is completely watchable as a suspense as well as a ‘sexy’ flick. It is one of those (and there are only a few for me) that I can watch a second time in rapid procession. Visually there is definitely a noir quality—and I love the scenes of the wind when the two lovers meet, plus the interior spaces—particularly Olivier Martinez character’s loft will all the dusty books, art and old wood floors. A romantic (and dark) space if there ever was one. Another great scene is the very last one—both visually and symbolically.

It’s also got some great music. I had to go out and buy some Ry Cooder and Vieux Farka Toure music, and of course I play it when I take a bath with candles all around, sipping wine.

American Gigolo (1980)

This is the film that put Armani on the fashion scene and labeled the Mercedes-Benz R107 SL the sexiest car ever. It sure sold me.

I will forever love a man who knows how to dress, in example.

I will forever crave a black Mercedes convertible rushing down a city street or open countryside—maybe with Italian opera playing full blast—

Oh, who knows? It’s just a dream. (One I actually had the occasion to play out just recently. Well, in an Audi, but, heck, that’s beside the point.)

There is something edgily sexy—and smooth in that sort of slick way—about the whole film. I believe this is because it flirts with a lifestyle that one may be aware of—maybe some of us have even glimpsed into—but perhaps never fully experienced. There ARE men and women who work as high class escorts and pleasure others for the money. And we may wonder, what are their lives like? Is it a glamorous in some ways? Would it be fun? Sexy? Whether male or female, this movies lets you wink at those possibilities like you know a dirty little secret.

Right about this time, in particular, Richard Gere was also looking pretty good—this smoothness defines him, from the way his skin and hair looks, to the way he dresses, to the way he talks, to his taste for expensive art and interior décor. The love story is also appealing, as the film deals so much with inner and outer concentrations. Julian (Richard Gere’s character) lives the life, in all actuality, of an emotionally blunted narcissist who receives no pleasure from any of his activities. The woman who sees through the act and ultimately throws away her own façade of a life for love of him gets the boy—and the hot sex, you just know it!

There’s a lot going on in this movie than meets the casual eye, I should say. This is the first in a serious of director Paul Schrader’s ‘man in a room’ series. Another is The Walker (2002), starring Woody Harrelson, who turns in a wonderful character study of a performance, as does Gere in Gigolo.

The Last of the Mohicans (2002)

There is just something about Daniel Day Lewis. (Sorry guys, this is turning out to be something of a Chick Lit sexy movies review, but what can you expect?) He has been known to portray some very unlikable characters, especially recently, but he is so good at it and so passionate about what he does that you still cannot help but like him, despite the number of butcheries he performs on screen. (Witness Gangs of New York and There Will Be Blood.)

Oh, and especially in his Hawkeye incantation, he looks like—well, um…like that. Five stars for chest baring sexiness from this reviewer. Five stars also for the, uh, urgency with which he kisses Cora (Madeleine Stowe) when they first develop an eye for each other.

The musical score is—how would I describe it? Rousing; very, very fitting of colonial America, because it reminds you of a reel and of folk dancing, but the strings are somewhere between that of ‘fiddle’ playing and that of ‘violin’ playing. (I can say that, right--as I used to play violin?) Meaning, I suppose, that there is a magnificence there, and a resonance, and a constant moving forward. I love it. You can get lost in that music. Drown in it. Of course, I had to buy the soundtrack. It is (in part) “Promentory,” by Trevor Jones.

And there is just something about the American frontier experience—or perhaps it is about the romantic way we would like to view ourselves—that comes across so strongly (and sexily) in James Fennimore Cooper’s story, and as directed by Michael Mann. The fighting in the wilderness, the rushing forward, the clash and mix of cultures—the finding, ultimately, of something precious. The movement of the film is palpable; the editing nearly flawless, building to epic proportions.

The hottest thing about it is the actual feeling that is created—a rawness and intensity.

The Age of Innocence (1993)

OK, what do you expect of an English major type? And Daniel Day Lewis again—yeah, like I said, just something about him—both brilliant and physically appealing, plus there is something genuine there, too.

This is Edith Wharton’s portrait of upper class New York City in the late 1800’s, the age of making a ‘good’ marriage, and of following the proper procedures of how society would direct your life. (If I had had to live that way, I would have surely died.) A world of the subtle pressures of the group, where a man might be convinced not to follow his heart. Such is the case with Day-Lewis’ character, who is in love with one woman, unusual for her time, while engaged to another—a ‘sweet,’ suitable, but conventional girl.

The film is directed by Martin Scorsese, probably my favorite director, with a surprisingly light and beautiful touch. One scene that stand out in my mind, even years after I first saw the film was the image of embers falling in a fireplace; the whisper of that sound like falling leaves—like maybe leaves falling away from a person’s life as they move further and further away from themselves. It’s just a beautiful and effective visual image.

The key here is that longing is hot. Kissing a woman’s gloved hand until there is the no question that something has been consummated is definitely hot. Wharton (and Scorsese) had that down right. The sexiest thing isn’t ever in a complete tangle of boring conventional nakedness (so to speak) during the harsh light of the day; sexiness is in the shadows, in passionate embers, and mostly in the mind and the heart.