Sunday night, in a double feature sure to
draw a lot of attention, HBO presents a tag team of sex
and violence.
First comes the violence, or at least the threat of
it, in the expanded 75-minute, fourth-season finale of
"The Sopranos." Then comes the sex, or at least the
promise of it, with a new "American Undercover"
documentary called "Cathouse," about life in a legal
Nevada brothel.
"Cathouse" is produced and directed by Patti Kaplan,
who's responsible both for the longrunning HBO series of
late-night specials known as "Real Sex" and the same
network's stripper-reality series, "G-String Divas."
I can't claim to have seen every episode of those
previous efforts, but I can't claim to have missed them
all, either. My overall sense is that "Real Sex" is a
newsmagazine about sexual subjects, with attitude but
without judgment.
"G-String Divas," on the other hand, was an attempt
at a reality show with nudity, but getting up close and
personal with these particular subjects had the unwanted
effect of making them less, rather than more, appealing.
"Cathouse," which introduces us to the proprietors,
employees and customers of Nevada's Bunny Ranch, is
somewhere in between. It has the nonjudgmental stance of
"Real Sex," but no real sex. It uses the hidden-camera
technique of "Taxicab Confessions" and "G-String Divas"
to capture candid action, but doesn't come close to
showing all the action.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. "Cathouse"
shows the negotiations leading up to a private "party"
(a rate of $1,000 an hour seems to be the mean), and
observes or interviews the customers and "working girls"
(the preferred term at this legal house of prostitution)
afterward. Otherwise, what goes on behind closed doors
remains a closed subject.
Information, though, is indeed gleaned here. We hear
X-rated movie actress Sunset Thomas explaining why she
comes to the Bunny Ranch to encounter her fans
one-on-one (the answer: $45,000 per week), and learn
that between 15 and 20 women call the Bunny Ranch every
day looking for employment. After "Cathouse" airs,
because of its Thursday afternoon ladies' teas and
seemingly genial atmosphere, expect a temporary spike in
those numbers.
Just as with political debates, viewers are likely to
leave "Cathouse" thinking whatever they thought coming
in.
All I'll say is that, in terms of structure, it's
like a reality restaurant show where you see people
ordering from the menu and relaxing after the meal, but
never get to see anyone take a bite.
Originally published on December 5,
2002