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The “Oh No” in Orgasm
By bukkhead | July 20, 2007
FILM REVIEW: ‘THE OH IN OHIO’
Written by Adam Wierzbianski.
Directed by Billy Kent
Rated R
88 mins.
Someone should go take all of these female orgasm movies and divide them into two groups, the pro-Freud and the anti-Freud. And then divide those into two groups each: the good and the insulting (because bad movies aren’t just bad, they’re cruel). And then we can choose only to watch the good pro-Freud movies, since we can use that alternate perspective to break us out of our comfort zone. The Oh in Ohio is worst of the lot, a bad pro-Freud movie, and as a service to you, I’m warning you away now, so you don’t have to waste your time like I did.
I mean, shame on Parker Posey. Sure, she’s the darling of the indie art-house, and can play serious roles as well as make fun of herself. But come on, there’s a limit to the idea of “not taking yourself too seriously,” when you end up just another tool in a misogynistic farce. You saw the script. You saw them use words like “frigid,” and mean it. You did me wrong, endorsing this movie just by being in it.
Parker is Priscilla, an upward-moving exec who’s life is as clean and fresh as her sterile white-walled office and manicured lawn. Except she’s never had an orgasm, even though she’s had sex with her husband 1543 times in ten years of marriage. I might be remembering that number wrong, but the script calls for her to have this photographic-cum-autistic memory, probably to explain why she can’t O. But who cares, right? Her husband, Jack. He cares. It has destroyed him that he can’t get her off. He’s gone from life-changing biology teacher to frustrated broken down middle-aged man.
It’s one thing for characters to be misinformed. Actually, very good writing can come from making sure your audience is smarter than your characters. But in Oh it becomes apparent that the writer and or director is sincere when saying clitoral orgasm are inferior to vaginal orgasms, and vibrators are only a crutch for those who have problems, and strong, morally adjusted women should not want or be allowed to use vibrators alone. This movie actually provides a montage of sweaty, hairy men humping a sexually frustrated Priscilla, suggesting random sex is a preferable course to using D-cell operated plastic.
The misogyny, and meta-misogyny, doesn’t stop there. Here comes Kristen, 18, and we’re supposed to accept that she hops in the sack with Jack for no better reason than to make him feel better. If you’re going to break a taboo, damn it, explore the nuances. Or if you’re going to have a fat little old man finally be the cure for Priscilla’s “problem,” do something with it. But the movie just ends. And because the movie is so awful, that’s actually a relief.
Which is too bad, because Parker Posey, Paul Rudd, even Danny Devito and Mischa Barton are good actors, who provide a few good moments despite the scripts awful awkwardness. Best part of the movie? Liza Minnelli.
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