I suppose it had to happen sooner or later.

Either out of boredom or because our society is running out of things to be outraged and shocked about, a film director has made a movie about “the last taboo” – as opposed to the “last, last taboo” that was dramatized last year. And of course, this doesn’t include the taboo that was “last” just a few short years ago. The business of taboo breaking is becoming more profitable all the time – if not in monetary rewards then certainly in being on the receiving end of the critical acclaim given out by our cultural overseers who feel it their solemn duty to see to it that breaking taboos is an accepted, indeed praiseworthy goal of art. The idea that a taboo is no longer a taboo when it is considered as normal as a walk in the park seems to elude the post modern critics who see limits on good taste and common decency as artificial constructs created by the white male power structure to oppress the artist.

Of course, pouring this kind of raw sewage into the toxic mix that has become American culture then becomes an act of courage. The artist is speaking truth to power!

Yeah? I wonder what the horse thinks about it?

Zoo,” premiering before a rapt audience Saturday night at Sundance, manages to be a poetic film about a forbidden subject, a perfect marriage between a cool and contemplative director (the little-seen “Police Beat”) and potentially incendiary subject matter: sex between men and animals. Not graphic in the least, this strange and strangely beautiful film combines audio interviews (two of the three men involved did not want to appear on camera) with elegiac visual re-creations intended to conjure up the mood and spirit of situations. The director himself puts it best: “I aestheticized the sleaze right out of it.”

Devor and his writing partner, Charles Mudede, live in Seattle and were stunned, as were many in the state, by a story that broke in 2005 about a local man who died after having sex with an Arabian stallion. Though bestiality is not illegal in Washington, the subsequent revelation of the existence of an Internet-based zoophile community (the men refer to themselves as “zoos,” hence the title) was a shock.

How does this advance our understanding of humanity? How does this elevate the soul and make the spirit sing? How does this make us question our assumptions about reality or pique our curiosity about something hidden in the dark corners of our own consciousness?

I totally reject the notion that learning about animal abusers and what motivates them contributes anything of beauty or evokes feelings of longing or touches the inner person in all of us. These used to be the artist’s stock in trade; to elicit an emotional response that teaches the consumer of art something about himself, about society, or about humanity.

Now apparently, it is enough to simply make decent people want to vomit:

Though “Zoo” is intent on allowing these men to be heard, Devor’s intention was not polemical. “I’m not in there wrestling with the legal or animal cruelty issues,” he said. Rather, he envisioned a film like his others: “I count on the natural world pulling my films through. I thought the marriage of this completely strange mind-set and the beauty of the natural world could be something interesting.”

In introducing “Zoo” at Sundance, Devor called it “a difficult film and a difficult film to make.”

The key is not “art for art’s sake” but rather “art for the artist’s sake.” In this kind of atmosphere, the artist creates not to express himself but rather to draw attention to himself:

“A lot of people looked at me as if I was an exploitative person, dredging up something for profit, and that bothered me. I was certainly asked many times, often with a wrinkled brow, ‘Why are you making this film?’ It was something I did resent; I thought artists had the opportunity to explore anything.”

In the end, Devor ended up agreeing with the Roman writer Terence, who said “I consider nothing human alien to me.”

“It happens,” the filmmaker said, “so it’s part of who we are.”

In this construct, it is not the film but the film maker that matters. He’s “daring to be different.” He’s “exploring the outer boundaries of his art.” But since those boundaries keep getting pushed farther and farther away from what is elevating or simply enlightening, it is imperative that the artist violate tenets of decency, tradition, or moral order in order to satisfy the artificial rules that have been created. He is as trapped in his little contrived universe as the artists in the past he looks so disdainfully upon and ridicules for their conventions.

Where will it end? What is the real “last taboo?”

Do you really want to find out?

UPDATE

From Libertas, the conservative film blog:

So, this is a non-judgemental look at men raping animals? That’s even possible? And the filmmaker considers nothing human alien to him? The one time I could proudly join a PETA protest and where are they? You think, “Here it is. I can finally find common ground with the Left. We can finally join hands in brotherhood,” only to discover they’re not so sure about this one. It’s like when I was ready to stand with the feminists celebrating the end of the Taliban, but they didn’t show. Or, when I was ready to march with Jesse Jackson to fight for using taxpayer money to send poor inner-city kids to private schools, and he didn’t show. I await outrage from the Left at bestiality only to be told, ”It’s part of who we are?” He just couldn’t quite bring hemself to condemn this behavior?

If beastiality isn’t condemned, no wonder the rape of Dakota Fanning is no big deal. It’s probably gonna seem like a Disney film after this.

The author refers to an upcoming film entitled Hound Dog where the young Miss Fanning is raped and brutalized while Elvis Presely sings in the background.

Sensational! Maybe we can do a sequel and call it A Hard Days Night and turn Haley Joel Osmet into a crack addled male prostitute- unless that’s been done already.