Let’s Get Naked: The Importance of On-Screen Nudity

If you have been reading my latest blogs, you will have seen that I recently watched Danny Boyle’s 2011 production of Frankenstein. In a promotional post, Jonny Lee Miller mentioned that "the creature started the show butt naked…but we had to wear a loin cloth because USA."

I blinked. You mean to say, Jonny, that the show was essentially censored for the broadcast audience? That I, as an audience member, had a different, censored experienced than those in the live audience, due to American laws on indecent exposure? The opening scene, in which the creature emerges from the womb, lays the foundations of empathy and compassion which the audience feel towards him, emotions which are thematically crucial. It is the humiliation and vulnerability of the creature’s first appearance that makes him all the more endearing. It seems counterintuitive to enforce privacy laws which could potentially diminish the director and actors’ intentions.

Interestingly, USA laws on indecent exposure refer to ‘conduct undertaken in a non-private or (in some jurisdictions) publicly viewable location’. I understand that there was a live audience at the time of filming, but I watched the broadcast at home, by myself. Of course, I acknowledge that the performance was shown in screenings, but how would that be any different than a nudity scene in a Hollywood Blockbuster, such as Eddie Redmayne’s ‘The Danish Girl’, or Ang Lee’s ‘Brokeback Mountain’? Besides, this is not an example of someone streaking in the middle aisle of Lidl. At no point was Frankenstein interactive…within the reality of fiction, The Creature would have been entirely alone in his nudity.

UK privacy laws on nudity are rather more lenient; take one look at Channel 4’s Naked Attraction or BBC’s Normal People (see my recent review), and you’ll see that on-screen nudity is becoming more common. According to Ofcom (1.21), “Nudity before the watershed, or when content is likely to be accessed by children, must be justified by the context.” To reiterate, nudity in television can, in some cases, be justified, even to an audience of children. I should clarify that, by nudity, I do not mean scenes of a sexual nature, which have more restrictive rules (a rape scene in Frankenstein was cut entirely, perhaps due to the possibility of children viewing it).

The first time I watched Naked Attraction, I was equally horrified and intrigued. As a virgin at an all-girls secondary school, the sight of several naked bodies of all different descriptions was a disgusting candy-shop of indecency, the likes of which I’d never seen before. The program involves, amongst other things, several very awkward, very sweaty people stood in garishly coloured tubes. One person stands in front of the tubes, and has to eliminate people based on the latest body part to be revealed (a horrifying rising-screen prompting each reveal). The principle of the show is simple: is it possible to pick your soul mate based solely on naked attraction? And the fantastic thing about the show is that it absolutely IS NOT possible! 21-year-old call-centre worker Karen might turn down 35-year-old teacher Mark (good luck going back to work Mark), purely at the sight of his manky toenails. But then, as the screen rises to reveal his rejected little face, she finds that he’s a sensitive soul who loves long walks on the beach. Argh, her perfect match! And in fact the lady with the nice tits, that Karen chose to date, might turn out to be a total bore!

What I love most about Naked Attraction is the eclectic mix of bodies – just bear with me here. Inside these tubes we’ve got polyamorous couples, people with disabilities or disfigurements, women, men, genderfluid people, an eclectic mix of ethnic backgrounds, different ages, and the entire spectrum of the LGBT+ community. You’ve got skinny people, stretch marks, pubic hair, tattoos, piercings, cellulite and vitiligo. By showcasing a plethora of different people in the nude, Naked Attraction completely shatters societal ideas of perfection and normality. Having had a sister with a chronic eating disorder and body dysmorphia, I thoroughly applaud the promotion and celebration of all shapes and sizes.

As Germaine Greer puts it ‘the body reasonably healthy and clean is the body beautiful’ (The Female Eunuch, 1970). It’s time we stopped being afraid of the human body – nudity is literally just basic anatomy. Surely, by demystifying naked bodies we make people more comfortable with themselves. After all, we are all bodies. By showcasing nudity on television, we can promote the idea that bodies are not things to be ashamed of. Imagine how cool it would be if people started going to that GP appointment, or stopping by their sexual health clinic, or even just buying the granny pants in Primark instead of the thongs, because they no longer feel ashamed of their own bodies.

If you have read my recent post ‘Hot Fuzz’, you will know all about my embarrassment surrounding excess body hair. As columnist Caitlin Moran says in her brilliant book ‘How to Be a Woman’ (2011), our standards surrounding pubic hair come directly from the pornographic industry – ‘if you remove all the fur, you can see more when you’re doing penetrative shots’ (p.49). Isn’t it time that we stopped relying on pornography and airbrushed Hollywood sex-scenes to define how our bodies should look? Wouldn’t it be better if men could stop feeling shit about the size of their dicks, and women about the size of their thighs, because they can see that everyone is completely different?

In her curiously taboo book ‘How to Have Feminist Sex’ (2019 – yes, that’s right. Still a taboo topic in 2019, but that’s a whole other blog post), author Flo Perry notes that ‘we can’t help what beliefs we’ve been landed with, but we can re-examine our beliefs and decide which ones we want to keep and which ones we need to try to chuck out.’ Surely, we should all have the opportunity to view nudity and decide how we feel about it on a personal level? If it makes you uncomfortable, societal stigmas aside, you can avoid it. But how can we make an informed decision if we’re denied the right to ever see nudity on screen?

If we remove the mystifying quality of nudity we remove the beauty standards surrounding it. After all, who would obsess over a magic trick once you have seen the same trick performed a thousand times, in different ways and by different people? Naked bodies are not unicorns – we have to live inside them, and you must understand that, no matter what your body looks like, you do not need to be embarrassed. By hiding genitals in loincloths, or censoring nudity onscreen, broadcasters promote the subconscious message that our basic anatomy is something to be ashamed of. Even Leonardo Da Vinci was comfortable with nudity, and that was the 1400s. It shouldn’t take a Renaissance genius to figure out that human bodies are acceptable.

References:

All 4 (2020) Naked Attraction, Available at: https://www.channel4.com/programmes/naked-attraction (Accessed: 6th May 2020).

Dodd, M & Hanna, M (2018) McNae's Essential Law for Journalists, 24th edn., United Kingdom: Oxford University Press.

Greer, G. (1970) The Female Eunuch, 16th edn., United Kingdom: Fourth Estate, Harper Collins.

Moran, C. (2011) How To Be A Woman, 1st edn., United Kingdom: Ebury Press.

Ofcom (2019) Section one: Protecting the under-eighteens, Available at: https://www.ofcom.org.uk/tv-radio-and-on-demand/broadcast-codes/broadcast-code/section-one-protecting-under-eighteens (Accessed: 6th May 2020).

Perry, F. (2019) How to Have Feminist Sex: A Fairly Graphic Guide, 1st edn., United Kingdom: Particular Books.

Wikipedia (2020) Indecent exposure in the United States, Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indecent_exposure_in_the_United_States (Accessed: 6th May 2020).

Frankenstein (2011) can be viewed for a limited time on YouTube, as published by the National Theatre. You can learn more about the production by visiting their website: http://ntlive.nationaltheatre.org.uk/productions/ntlin4-frankenstein