The new Hulu movie stars Emma Thompson as Nancy, a widowed retired schoolteacher who hires a much younger s-x worker (Daryl McCormack) for a series of hookups in a hotel room. She seeks to sleep with someone other than her husband, who was her only partner; most importantly, she is interested in enjoying s-x for the first time in her life.
The drama written and directed by a woman is a wonder and a rarity. Her gentle honesty about the broad spectrum of human s-xuality runs directly counter to much of what we see depicted in movies as "normal" s-x, particularly the experience of women. And the film's attitude towards s-x work, showing how this profession could actually offer a valuable service to humanity, is downright radical for Hollywood. For director Sophie Hyde, Thompson, and newcomer McCormack to deliver all of this with such a light touch is nothing short of masterful.
In "Big Leo" Emma Thompson plays one of her best roles. Thompson is a two-time Oscar winner, so that's saying something. The 63-year-old has also long been a leading voice in the open debate about S- in the entertainment industry. Several years ago, she called the oft-cited notion that things were getting better for actresses false: "I don't think there's any appreciable improvement, and I think for women, the question of how they're supposed to look is worse than ever." which it was even when I was young... So, no, I'm not impressed, not at all. I think it's still completely s**t."
The message in most of the female roles—is that women must constantly keep an eye on the aesthetics of their bodies, be apprehensive about s-x, and be embarrassed or self-conscious about their desire cleverly integrated into Nancy's dialogue. Thompson plays comic self-doubt like no one else, but here, against a deep undercurrent of sadness, he embodies Nancy's internal war between wanting to broaden (or, indeed, invent) her horizons and her decades-long belief that wanting to do so is embarrassing and, at his age, humiliating for everyone involved.
I've been writing about movies for quite some time and one aspect that has remained maddeningly consistent, with a handful of exceptions, is the utterly inane portrayal of women's pleasure. It's something I've learned not to comment on every time I write about a movie with straight s-x, lest I become a broken record (and a middle-aged woman), but can we talk about it? For just a minute?
9.5 times out of 10, when a man and woman have s-x in the movies, it's brief, it's missionary (meaning he's on top), and they climax together, beautifully. This spectacle is, in fact, very much like the s-x that Nancy tragicomically describes to Leo, minus the artistry and mutual enjoyment: as she remembers it, her husband would climb on top of her, push, orgasm, roll over, and sleep.
She, meanwhile, has never had an orgasm, ever, she tells Leo. This puts her solidly next to the majority of women, according to one study, who don't have orgasms without clitoral stimulation. Yet somehow it seems that most of the portrayal of s-x between men and women in mainstream movies (plus a good chunk of adult movies) presents women's orgasms as something that magically happens in the most cinematic moment.
Forget finding women over the age of 60 whose desires are discussed and acted out on screen, or whose s-x work is portrayed in ways that aren't sensational or damning. The only film I can remember that comes close to "Big Leo"'s level of respect for s-x work as a human profession is a decade old: Ben Lewin's "The Sessions," which featured Helen Hunt as an s-x surrogate who I was working with a profoundly disabled man (John Hawkes) who is interested in experiencing S- for the first time.
"Big Leo" doesn't sugarcoat the realities of s-x work, particularly for women, but its heroic and unapologetic portrayal of Leo rejects the still prevalent idea that anyone who enters the field must be deeply damaged. As one reproductive justice advocate writes, "The idea of buying and paying for services can be reassuring for many people who need human connection, friendship, and emotional support. Some people may have fantasies and preferences that services can fulfill." of one or an S- worker".
In one of the most moving monologues in the movie — and it feels like a play — Leo describes Nancy to some of his regular customers, including one who just wants to hold hands and watch TV and another who has a physical handicap and likes to talk dirty and bathe together. Which, Leo adds, she finds arousing (an approval that echoes through her body, as we see Nancy raise her eyebrows at a look at her groin).
In a recent essay for Vogue, Thompson discussed why this aspect of the film appealed to her so much: "S-x care: why isn't it in the NHS? S-x is free, natural, normal, lovely, good for us, and, as Leo says in the film, inaccessible to some for all sorts of perfectly valid reasons. It's a public health issue." McCormack's character adds, "You understand that you can make people feel better, you can improve their lives, and sometimes you can even free them from suffering. It teaches Nancy, in short, about the possible sanctity of s-x work."
He speaks of a message at odds with our current political moment, where women's bodily autonomy and power are under siege.
In a recent interview with Stephen Colbert, Thompson said, "It's not a romantic story, and that's what I think is radical." A plot about an older woman who takes her s-x life into her own hands and doesn't need to add sentimentality defies romance as we know the genre.
But I would say that "Big Leo" is a romance in a way that we're not used to thinking of one between Nancy and her own body. Thompson strips blatantly at one point, with no dim lights, no flattering poses, telling Colbert that in doing so he had "kind of taken a leap into the void and put my faith in the audience."
