Sook Yin Lee and Year of the Carnivore

From WestEnder.com

Sook-Yin Lee on the set of her film, Year of the Carnivore, based on Lee’s own awkward coming-of-age.

Credit: Supplied

In sex and on film, practice makes perfect

Posted By: Andrea Warner

06/16/2010 12:00 AM

Shy is not a word in Sook-Yin Lee’s vocabulary. The Vancouver-born, Toronto-based renaissance woman (writer, director, actor, musician, and TV and radio host) came out as bisexual in 1995, when, as a VJ for MuchMusic, she spontaneously kissed a woman on-air after the Supreme Court of Canada added sexual orientation to Section 15 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. She later infamously mooned viewers during her last shift for the same broadcaster in 2001. And four years ago, she almost lost her job as host of CBC Radio One’s Definitely Not the Opera after higher-ups balked at her sexually graphic starring role in John Cameron Mitchell’s movie, Shortbus.

Now, Lee is once again courting controversy as the writer-director of the sexually frank but stunningly soulful Year of the Carnivore (opening Friday, June 18), her highest-profile and most personal feature film to date.

“I really drew upon my first love,” Lee says of her inspiration for writing Carnivore. “I was a gal who was pretty out of touch with myself, my body, my sexuality. I had no boyfriends throughout my childhood and adolescence. When most of the kids were playing spin the bottle, I was not invited.”

She laughs, and continues. “I wasn’t particularly desirable, and I didn’t feel desirable. I was very clueless.”

Lee’s matter-of-fact vulnerability has helped her craft a film that, under the auspices of another director, could have come off as a one-note kink-fest. In Carnivore, Sammy, played by the little-known New York actress Cristin Milioti, is a sexually awkward young woman with a bum leg (a daily reminder of her bout with childhood leukemia) who works undercover security at a grocery store. Eugene (Mark Rendall), a guitarist who busks outside, is the object of her affection. But after the two hit the sheets, he puts the kibosh on a relationship, telling Sammy she needs more experience in the bedroom before they can take things further. She takes his instruction to heart, with results that alternate between hilarious, heartfelt, and positively criminal.

Lee gleefully recounts just how much she mined her own past to flesh out Sammy and Eugene’s journey. As in the film, Lee was also a young woman who needed liquid courage to spill her guts. Literally.

“I felt I needed to confess my feelings, so I got incredibly drunk, because I had no confidence, no courage,” says Lee of the man who jilted her and inspired Carnivore’s central storyline. “I actually fell down the stairs of the Savoy Nightclub in Gastown before picking myself up, going over to his warehouse, and confessing my love. Then I proceeded to vomit all over him. He was really endeared to me, but also really upfront that he didn’t want to be in a relationship and that I was really terrible in the sack.”

Lee describes her ensuing years acquiring sexual experience as the work of a “zealous overachiever.” Eventually, she and her would-be paramour found their way back to each other, but not before making plenty of mistakes along the way.

“The fact of the matter is no one’s really great [at sex] from the get-go, and it rarely plays out like in romance novels or romantic movies,” Lee says. “People aren’t as... well, they’re more fumbly in real life. I really do love the inverted romance and people finding each other, but they have to earn it, they have to go through some hard knocks.”

Some of Sammy’s hard knocks include a variety of interactions that are sure to rile more conservative moviegoers, but even the most overtly shocking scenes (a threesome to help get over the hurdle of postpartum depression) touch on the truth that a good relationship needs good sex and communication to survive. Lee knows, however, that she can’t control the audience’s response to Carnivore’s casual depiction of sexual exploration.

“If people are outraged, that’s their own reaction,” Lee says, laughing. “What I try to do, on Not the Opera and in my writing, is bring myself to the story and the ideas we’re exploring. Not in a way that’s simply navel-gazing, but there’s usually something at its core that I wish to share with people that’s hopefully really useful to them as well. All of my work is drawing from a place of wanting to communicate and connect and share experiences that I’ve been privy to.”

Tying a Different Kind of Knot

My article on BDSM appears in this week's WE. It's pretty brief, and I had a lot of great interviews, so expect to see some follow up on this blog in the coming weeks when I have time to write a couple follow-up segments.

BDSM is emerging from the underground, revealing an all-inclusive community where sex and respect go hand in glove

Credit: supplied

MODERN LOVE: Tying a different kind of knot

Posted By: Andrea Warner

02/10/2010 12:00 AM

Soft music and spooning might be part of your perfect Valentine’s plans, but a growing number of consenting adults are adding a little kink to their romantic routines. From a few playful swats on the bottom to playing doctor and nurse, more and more people are opening up about their desires and needs, redefining conventional notions of sex, and in some cases, loving, respectful relationships.

The murky mixing of pleasure and pain is often a contentious issue for even the most liberal-minded people. Possibly the final frontier in taboo, bondage, discipline, and sado-masochism (BDSM) has evolved into a legitimate lifestyle complete with social functions, education, clothing, and language. Vancouver’s own BDSM culture is thriving, with a growing community (arguably the city’s only genuinely all-inclusive community) at the forefront of changing the city’s attitudes about sex.

Peter Tupper, director at large and communications coordinator for Metro Vancouver Kink, is one of a handful of people publicly “out” about his involvement in the BDSM community. He defines BDSM as a set of sexual practices involving dominance and submission role play, and other forms of erotic stimulation including confinement, impact, and a variety of other sensations. He’s well aware that to many people BDSM sounds dangerous and dirty, and he’s interested in creating more honest dialogues about sexual needs.

“Some people are wary about mixing sex and violence and they’re frightened by the connection,” Tupper says. “I think they don’t understand that often in BDSM, that’s taken in the context of a relationship of mutual trust and respect. There’s a very strong focus on the ethics of behaviour, of looking after the person you’re with, of negotiating beforehand, respecting their physical, psychological, emotional limits. There’s no standard script for a sexual encounter. You meet with somebody, you negotiate your limits, work out his or her kinks, and nothing’s taken for granted. That formalized negotiation—I think that’s something that “vanilla” people can learn from. Maybe their sexual relationships can run a little smoother through that negotiation.”

Jennifer, a sex educator and founder of Libido Events, has been a part of the BDSM community for 12 years. Her introduction came at a time when the community existed in relative secrecy, an underground assembly where you had to know someone involved in the scene to get invited to an event. She accidentally stumbled onto the fledgling community after buying a pair of stilettos to fulfill a boyfriend’s fantasy. The sales-lady slipped a leaflet about a party into the bottom of her bag, promising that “all the other girls that bought those kind of shoes would be there.”

“Implying somehow she knew what we were into, when we didn’t even know what we were into,” Jennifer recalls. “We ended up walking in the door of a BDSM party. I was flabbergasted. Within three parties, my partner realized it wasn’t the place for him, and within three parties I’d realized I’d found a home. The home wasn’t within the party, but within the community, finding like-minded individuals. They didn’t have to share the exact interests I had, but they were open-minded enough to not push people away based on what their interests were.”

An indicator of how the BDSM community has flourished is indicative at the bi-weekly Sin City Fetish parties. Organizer Mr. Dark has seen attendance at his Club 23 West events grow over the last nine years from about 150 people to 500 people, with some parties boast ing a crowd of more than 1,000.

“Vancouver is blessed with a more open-minded view of sexuality,” Dark says. “It’s become more mainstream, as many people didn’t even know they were kinky. A few years back I had a make up artist that I worked with on a film with tell me she wasn’t into kinky stuff, but then admitted that she liked to be spanked. Well honey, congratulations, that’s kinky!”

Dave Toxik (a pseudonym), an active member of the community, also sees the makings of a social shift.

“Anyone who deviates from supposed normalcy is often looked at as an outsider, as weird or wrong,” Toxik says. “That, and the guilt that is often stapled onto sexuality in North America, give you a Frankenstein’s monster of sorts — something shocking or to be mocked. But, there are columnists, TV shows, and even the Taboo sex show, that are normalizing various aspects of sexuality, including kink. So while there is still the stigma and shame associated with kink, there are segments of society trying to move toward a more neutral understanding of what it is...I can honestly say I have never met as open-minded, interesting, and fascinating people as I have in the BDSM community.”

For more information, workshops, and meet-up opportunities:

Metro Vancouver Kink
Libido Events
Gothic British Columbia
Fet Life

8 x 10 Glossy

My story on the Leaping Thespians' newest production, 8 x 10 Glossy is in the latest edition of Xtra West!

8 x 10 Glossy preview
By Andrea Warner

Leaping Thespians director Karen White read over 50 scripts before 8 x 10 Glossy caught her eye.

To her, the play's myriad themes — sexuality, political activism, and family dysfunction — felt particularly relevant for a 2008 audience, even one steeped in modern liberations.

Written by Sarah Dreher, 8 x 10 Glossy is set in 1984. At its centre is Carter, a lesbian activist and photojournalist, who returns home on the one-year anniversary of her father's death to face her sister, Julie, a repressed and unhappy housewife, and her mother, Kettie, finally free after years of abuse. Julie's attractive new friend, Lisa, and the unseen nosy neighbour round out the cast.

Having come out herself in 1978, White strongly identifies with the sexual themes the play explores, and recalls the struggles facing the lesbian community during that pivotal time.

"The majority of people were against gays at the time," White explains. "I knew many women on the fringe of the lesbian-feminist community who didn't call themselves lesbian; they 'just happened to be in love with a women.' It was still very much the love that dare not speak its name, except in the safe enclaves of lesbian culture: the bars, softball teams, and many feminist organizations."

Times have changed but modern audiences will likely be able to draw many comparisons between then and now, White suggests.

"Every young woman coming out now, even though she's coming out in a different world, wants the approval of her family. Lots of women now, even though they know it's okay to be a lesbian, still don't think they are. They're surprised by feelings for a woman."

In 8 x 10 Glossy, Carter may be out and proud, but she's still desperate for Julie's approval. Julie, afraid of her own feelings for Lisa, can't help but lash out at Carter.

The sisters' relationship is complicated, fraught with expectation and disappointment, but the underlying love between the siblings fuels every scene.

Taylor Stutchbury plays Julie and is empathetic to the struggles her character faces in confronting her sexuality.

"I was closer to Carter in realizing my orientation, yet sexuality is something which has evolved for me over time and it is there where I can understand Julie's struggle," Stutchbury says. "Sexuality for me has to do with acceptance of yourself. Julie's internalized homophobia is something I struggled with when I was younger and it still pokes out its head as I age."

"Women who proclaimed their lesbianism often lost custody of their children, a theme only alluded to in this story but a strong undercurrent," White points out, noting the potential costs of coming out for Julie are not the same as for her sister.

"For Julie, being a favoured young mom in the town, getting her identity from others, doing what is expected of her is second nature," White explains. "So many women lost close connections with family after coming out, there was a lot to lose. A lot to lose especially if you are not sure, and how can you be sure until you try?"

Eroca Zales, who plays Kettie, sees an ugly similarity between 8 x 10's 1984 politics and the current political condition. She recounts a pivotal scene where Carter likens the persecution of gays to the holocaust, and asks, "It's happening again, isn't it?"

"Of course that is happening now in the States with the Christian right," Zales says. "It's a very dangerous political movement. Very repressive to many people — women's right to choose, gays, Muslims, on and on."

Like many plays that prove timeless, 8 x 10's gift is Dreher's dialogue: honest and unpretentious, with plenty of moments of dark wit, tense confrontation, and cute flirting.

We're introduced to Carter and Lisa within minutes of the curtain rising. Lisa is obviously at home in Kettie's backyard, and Carter is intrigued by the stranger who seems so close to her sister. The two women who are competing for Julie's affections circle each other with caution, friendship, and a spark of attraction.

Great dialogue also propels the rise and fall of the heated exchanges between Carter and Julie as they butt heads and then back down, only to keep the pattern on repeat.

Leigh Burrows plays Carter, and while she acknowledges the play touches on important issues about sexuality, she feels the main focus is family.

"What makes the story universal is the way the family interacts, the way we keep up appearances," Burrows says. "Even though there is all this stuff that goes on behind the scenes and behind all the closed doors."

"When I first told one of my sisters that I was a lesbian, it was in a public place in Fredericton, New Brunswick. At the time she worried about [what] people would think when she gave me a hug," Stutchbury recalls. "Years later she came out as a lesbian and it gave me better understanding about what had been going on for her."