We've said it before and we'll say it again: You are all a bunch of weirdos. There was probably no greater message than that to be gleaned from Saturday night's CineKink screenings; that all humans are strange and kinky creatures, and the ones who don't admit it are the weirdoiest of them all. The NYC-based fest flogs itself as a celebration of "alternative sexuality," a term almost as ambiguous and vague as "progressive" and "straight-acting;" Saturday's screenings included a clip show, highlighting the bizarre fashion in which Hollywood misunderstands S/M culture, and a collection of award-winning kink-positive shorts.

The crowd at S/M at the Movies: The Good, the Bad and the Ridiculous was about 90% men, and of them, well more than half were in leather. Presenter Thor Stockman, himself a practicing sadist, described how Hollywood's attitude towards perverts has always been weirdly shameful and dirty, as though everyone has sex in the missionary position, coiffed like white mannequins on the cover of a romance novel. Pop culture's idea of kink runs the gamut from the embarassing Gimp in Pulp Fiction to a kink-positive blip in 1995's Jeffrey to the HOTTT leather-clad Rosie O'Donnell in Exit to Eden, as well as Al Pacino's excruciating Elene-Benes-style dancing in Cruising, with barely an accurate or sex-positive portrayal to be found.

Thor began the program by pointing out that a scene's reading varies widely depending on the audience, and it's true -- for example, although it made us laugh, a red-state audience would probably nod grimly at the The Laughing Policeman scene in which a detective trails a suspect through a storm of leathermen, go-go boys, and drag queens, then posits, "I think he's a fag." We could've done with a bit more analysis of the clips; it's easy to reduce most clips to "kink-ignorant" and move on, but we were left curious about, for example, the stripping-away of Nicholas Cage's position of power in 8mm despite the authority of his gaze -- but maybe it's best that the evening didn't go there, since once we get started talking about Foucalt and saying "hegemony" we can NEVER shut up.

After the jump: a moustache, hot lesbian action, and a man with a puppy tail.

As you may recall, we hated the short film Harigata; and so did all the people who walked out of its showing at the Frameline film fest. You can imagine our delight, then, when we saw it listed as one of CineKink's award-winners, to be shown at a Best of CineKink screening. It, along with Meat by Joe Gallant (NSFW), constituted the evening's experimental film component. We're not sure what exactly the experiment was, but we can only assume that it was not a success. Both pieces are about four times too long and feature so much messy sex that it's hard to remember that they're being presented as cultural fare, rather than just for jacking off. Not that we're opposed to pr0n, of course, it's just that we're not sure how to relate to it when it's coupled with eyebrow-arching symbols like Nixon, church windows, a coffin, a man in a bird mask, and a lonely topless girl singing forlornly in a stairwell. There were a lot of heads lolling around as the audience waited for Harigata and Meat to conclude.

Much better, though, was Sullivan's Last Call, a grainy verite-ish film from 10 years ago -- can you believe 1995 was ten 10 years ago? -- about a guy who's decided to become celibate, for reasons that are unclear to a ladyfriend and, apparantly, to himself. After making up reasons that don't actually explain anything, the guy gets frustrated at the woman's slightly weary sexual persistance. Just as it seems like things are about to be resolved, the picture freezes and we fade to black -- ARGH! We hate when that happens. Okay, fine, we understand that it was the journey that mattered, not the destination; but you've brought us this far already, why not give us the satisfaction of finishing things off? It's like getting a plate of meticulously arranged but raw ingredients in a restaurant.

And: Open, a film-schoolish backwards-in-time wobble about fidelity, and the inevitability of turmoil in the absence of limitations. It's cute in a hyper-low-budget sort of way, though a bit tricky to follow at times; we didn't realize until halfway in that the story wasn't linear. It also features the least charismatic drag queen we've ever seen, and a very by-the-books best friend: fat, witty, unlucky in love, but wise beyond her years, we sort of wish the short was about her, since she seems more interesting than the wishy-washy and self-involved main characters. Oh well, maybe there'll be a sequel. Though a little clunky, it's possible to sympathize with Open's melancholy reverse-arc from one relationship to another.

Our favorite short was Moustache, a gentle Australian short by Vicki Sugars, which follows a listless married couple with gender-role weariness. As the nebbishy husband shrinks from his exasperated wife, impossible magic intervenes in their lives -- a relentless moustache, an eerily fertile garden -- forcing the wife to discover how much more comfortable life is in men's clothes, among other male items. Perfect pacing, lovely subtle acting, and some charming kitschy art direction; no wonder it was the only short to get a round of applause at the end.

Also well-loved by the audience was Pup, which opens with a man explaining, "my fetish is a gift" -- a gift from God, he elaborates, one he intends to celebrate. Tim's fetish is puppyplay -- that is, roleplaying as a puppy in a rather tender slave/master relationship with his "owner," Master Skip. The filmmakers did an excellent job of capturing just how normal and, well, human their relationship is, such as when Tim waits out by the car for Skip to leave the house and offhandedly comments, "he's ALWAYS late," just like anyone might say about a close friend.

We enjoyed Born in a Barn, a documentary by Elizabeth Olson (who also judged shorts for inclusion in this screening) about ponyplay, and we liked Pup even more for its subjects' open admission that what they're doing is just a bit silly. Whereas Born in a Barn felt a bit creepy at times by focussing solely on its cast's fantasy lives, Pup allows its subjects plenty of grace and dignity -- no small feat for a doc about such unexpected behavior -- by exploring their non-puppy lives. We learn that Tim, for example, is a clergymember and church leader in Los Angeles; and suddenly, he's so much more than a man in a harness. Whether through religion or via "pupping out," he's just a guy looking for meaning in life, and who can't identify with that? The more we learn about Pup's subjects, the more we want to know about them, and that's exactly what a documentary ought to do.

When we asked Elizabeth Olson if the subjects of Born in a Barn ever confronted how unusual their interests are, she replied, tellingly, that she didn't understand our question. Pup not only understands the question, it anticipates it: Skip observes that there are very few people willing to join them in publicly showcasing their interest, but adds that he hopes observers will look at them and realize, "If they can do it, I can do it, because I'm not weird like that." Tim adds, "And I hope they follow that up with, 'but I AM weird like THIS.'"