True Blood: Let's Talk About Sex

Let’s talk about sex. 

Not the Salt n’ Pepa single, though I’m happy to talk about that, if you want to. At length. But more to the point, sex in True Blood, and how it’s changed over the course of three seasons of fangbanging. Actually, let’s take an even further step back, and talk about sex – and nudity – on HBO. And my childhood.

This is going to be a good recap, you guys, I can feel it already.

When I was a kid, I didn’t have cable. Which means I didn’t have Cinemax, or any of the porn channels, or anything that a young teen boy needed to grow and mature in America in the eighties and nineties. We didn’t even have fuzzy, wave the antenna back and forth, try to hold the TV in the right position so maybe you could be wondering whether that was a static line or a nipple cable, that’s how bad it was. Oh, and we used to walk to school uphill both ways, and movies cost negative five cents.

So the first time I really saw nudity on television was when I would go over a friends house, and in particular, there are two shows that had me completely, 100% glued to the TV: Dream On; and Tales From The Crypt. Every episode of either one of those shows, there would be copious, needless nudity, under the guise of “this is an adult show for mature adults who appreciate fine entertainment,” and so naturally, I thought they were the best TV shows I’d ever seen.

Did Duck Tales have Scrooge McDuck flopping into bed with chesty babe after chesty babe? Sure, but that was the porn parody called F**k Tales, and I just made it up. Probably.

Point is, pretty much since its inception, HBO has been a reliable place to see some adults getting into adult situations, if you know what I mean. And creators for the channel always take advantage of the freedom – to the point that it sometimes seems like they are me from fifteen years ago or so, giggling about naked people doing weird stuff, and throwing a sex scene or two into a show, just because it’s fun to watch.

I’m not going to say that True Blood has been different – far from it – but Alan Ball, having already gotten his “tee hee, nudity” jones out with Six Feet Under took the sex in True Blood to insane heights. I’d point out the “Bill comes out of a grave and immediately f**ks Sookie in the graveyard dirt” scene from season one as an example.

Was it naked breasts and man-butts? Yes. But was it ridiculous and fun to watch, because of the insane heights the sex was taken to? Sure, and that’s what made it palatable for adult-me, who no longer has to go over a friends house to watch bootlegged cable.

Then in season two, things started to get a little weird. We had massive orgies going on, but always from far away, and there was always more of a National Geographic sense to the scenes, than anything over the top, or nasty. Sure, we got to see Anna Paquin and Stephen Moyer in their altogether. But looking specifically at over-the-top sex fiend Jason Stackhouse’s frequent bouts from the first season – versus his clothed trysts in season two, there’s a progression into non-nudity, and lack of sex that indicated the show was getting bored of showing off their stars, and instead wanted you to focus on the acting. You know, the really, really good, Emmy quality acting. Cough.

Season three has, if you want to characterize it this way, been even worse. Sure we’ve gotten a butt here and there, but for the most part, other than a nakie background character or two, the stars have made love, but off camera. The exception is the insane scene where Bill twisted Lorena’s neck while hate-f**king her, but even that was fully clothed.

Now we’re caught up to last night’s episode (I told you: this is a great recap), and there I was, sitting three-quarters of the way through, dumbstruck that we had actually cut away from a Jason Stackhouse sex scene. Look, to be very clear: it’s not that I’m even interested in seeing Lindsay Pulsipher wearing what god gave her – I’m just shocked that after three seasons, we’re getting something in a True Blood sex scene we could see on any network. Same with Jesus and Lafayette. They kiss, go off camera, fade to black.

I marked down the note, “Time was, we wouldn’t have cut away from a sex scene,” and was prepared to write a whole anti-puritanical rant about how this isn’t the same show I started watching. And then there was the end of the episode.

Clearly, the writers have been thinking the same thing, because not only did we get naked Talbot on Eric action, but one of the most ridiculous looking sex scenes ever, with Sookie writhing on top of Bill, both in their starkers, as the episode ends.

I could talk more about how I understand, as a show goes on, both the main actors, and the guest stars are less interested in taking their clothes off, or will put stipulations in their contract. Or how I understand that sex scenes always – no pun intended – grind an episode to a halt.

But by giving us sex scenes – or lack thereof – you’re denying thousands, if not millions of teen boys that first chance to experience that first glimpse of nudity that sticks with them forever. The end of last night’s True Blood is a step in the right direction, but we’ve got a long way to go before True Blood can be considered this generation’s Dream On.

Just remember, guys: you’re not TV; you’re HBO. So bring on the crazy sex. And please, think of the children.

Random Notes:

• Stephen Moyer delivered the crap out of, “I love you Sookie Stackhouse, and I will love you forever.” Gut wrenching.
• I could argue for a while about whether any of the actors on this show are any good, but sometimes, regardless of talent, you get a great line like, “They killed my Cooter!” And talent just doesn’t matter.
• “Shut up brain, stop thinking, she’s going to find out!” Jason Stackhouse is basically Homer Simpson with way tighter abs.
• Anyone else notice some spotty focus problems, and patchy sound throughout the episode? Seems like maybe this one was rushed.
• By season six, we’re just going to see the entire cast sitting alone in corners, rocking themselves, completely traumatized.