Boobs & Velvet
I sometimes imagine that film / TV producers of the 70’s & 80’s sat around the production table and said something along the lines of;
‘Yes this is all well and good, but is there any way a towel could fall to the floor and her boobs be exposed? Yes, yes, I know it’s a story about WWII soldiers fighting in the trenches, but I’m sure we could shoehorn in a bit more, you know…’ *cups in hands under imaginary breasts and gurns a la Sid James*
The parents in the 1950’s were horrified by the behaviour of their off spring’s generation. Elvis waggling his groin in front of an audience of swooning hormonal women (and men), was a waggle too far for many who had grown up in the far more conservative 30’s & 40’s. Anything sexual was meant to stay firmly behind closed doors, and even then possibly through a nightdress. Then, to their horror, we moved headlong into the 1960’s.
Not that the 1960’s were the same for all of course, as my mum once said dryly ‘The 60’s didn’t swing in the north.’ I digress, but it’s worth noting that the sexual revolution we are all led to believe happened in the 60’s with the introduction of the pill, is a bit of a fallacy. It wasn’t available to many girls / women, particularly in working class areas. For them it was a case of ‘swing at your peril’ with the very real possibility of a baby, as abortion wasn’t legal (and therefore safe) in England until 1968.
In 1970, and after much heaving cleavage beforehand, Hammer Films produced ‘The Vampire Lovers’ which featured ‘boobs galore’ from stalwart Hammer queen Ingrid Pitt and her co-star Madeline Smith. Under the guise of vampiric fluid sexuality and myth, it also involves a lot of ‘handsy and mouthy’ action too. I don’t know if there was such a thing as ‘closed sets’ in 1970, but I suspect if not, there were many stage hands who felt there was something absolutely critical that required their presence on set on these filming days.
Hammer was the start of my love of horror and so I was exposed (s’cues the pun) to all of this from a young age. Boobs were normal, as was seeing women (in part) as sexual beings, particularly when it came to using that sexuality to gain power. Let’s not forget that in the 70’s many women didn’t have the opportunity to use their intellect to get ahead, and even less had financial independence. Note, it wasn’t until the 1975 Sex Discrimination Act was passed, that a woman in the UK could open a bank account in her own name without prejudice.
Conversely, you were far less likely to see a penis on screen, though I suspect the young me would have not found these offensive either, but extremely amusing… ‘williiieeeees!’ I remember being told that it was a criminal offence to show an erect penis on screen, apparently this has never been so.
Broadcasting watchdog Ofcom says there is no ban on showing erections on TV.
"There's no outright prohibition of it," says Ofcom's Ed Taylor "But if it was shown it would have to be justified by the context".
For me there is an intuitive acceptance, or not, for nudity in film and television. I really have no issue with any nudity or saucy innuendo, however there’s that ‘alert’ inside when something is just bad. I adore ‘Carry On’ films and I love to a lesser extent the ‘On the Buses’ films, however when I watched the ‘On the Buses’ television series, I found it truly awful. Somehow the ridiculousness of two middle aged men cavorting with much younger and more attractive women, seemed far darker and uncomfortable than their film counterparts.
I believe the 70’s and 80’s were a very unique time in film, writers and film makers got a bit wild and naughty and pushed boundaries of sexuality as far as their imagination, desire and the classification board would allow. But like a precocious child that goes too far and is sent to bed, or a drunk that has that ‘one last drink’ and ends up falling in a hedge, it all needed to be reigned in.
And so there are are a whole generation of us who are programmed to forever giggle at Bab’s bra flinging off and / or fantasise about living in a castle wearing nothing but a low cut velvet dress, while our children look on and shake their heads disapprovingly, just like those exasperated parents of the 1950’s.
Sally-Anne x
Thank you for all the lovely reviews of my latest dark thriller ‘The Home.’ If you have yet to read, you can purchase HERE.
