WARNING!
Peter Berlin
Distributor | Released | Length |
---|---|---|
Waterbearer Films | 2005 | 80 |
Description source: promotional material
With his trademark Dutchboy haircut and oh-so-tight trousers, Peter Berlin was the gay poster boy for the hedonistic and sexually liberated 1970s. Jim Tushinski’s fascinating documentary traces Berlin’s story from his childhood in wartime Germany to his current life in San Francisco. A talented artist, photographer, and filmmaker, Peter Berlin was his own biggest creation, a carefully constructed, unattainable icon awash in eroticism. Berlin’s fans and friends, including John Waters, Armistead Maupin, Jack Wrangler, and Wakefield Poole offer their comments and stories, but Berlin himself, still looking remarkably boyish in his early 60s, provides the most illuminating commentary
In "That Man: Peter Berlin" (2005), a documentary about gay erotic legend Peter Berlin from director Jim Tushinski ( http://JimTushinski.com ), director John Waters compares him to Jayne Mansfield, a cartoon caricature, the ultimate of a certain type of fantasy, not necessarily real, and not pretending to be so. Indeed, photographer Peter Berlin was his own favorite subject, endlessly shot in the 1970s as an archetypal San Franciscan. His look is one for the ages: long page-boy hair down to his shoulders, a smoldering promising face and a body that could never be out of vogue. It was tight, it was chiseled, it was magnificent. But, it was Peter Berlin's clothing of that body that made him a stand-out. The pants were so tight not only was the cock readily visible, but so was everything else, the scarf around the neck, the shirt open to show off the hairless chest.
So in "That Boy" (1974), one of only two "porn" films Peter Berlin made, Peter lives the fantasy for the streets of San Francisco, drawing stares and ogles everywhere he goes, standing out from the crowd and basking in the adoration. As he states in the audio commentary, he was a shy man at the time, but the Peter Berlin persona was the utmost in sexual invitation. But Peter Berlin wasn't about sex, he was about sexuality, as "That Boy" shows so brilliantly.
Peter starts out in a field, lazing until a faceless man comes to cruise him. The cult of Peter is full-body worship, so there is no rush to unleash his cock. The editing instead focuses on his body, on his face and on his connection to the other man. When he does show his dick, it's a gorgeous thick piece, but when the man touches Peter, he doesn't reach for the cock. He touches his chest and grabs his neck. Peter does eventually cum, but not from anything hardcore, merely from being adored and watched.
The hero walks down San Francisco's streets and the camera introduces us to the excessively hysterical gaggle of fellow street performers of the time. There are men in all manner of costumes, lusting after Peter, who of course sports his own "costume," but who also ignores them. Watch him, absolutely, but no contact is allowed as he passes through their stares and catcalls. Just when Peter looks to be walking past the entire city of leering men, he meets a blind boy, played rather strangely by Arron Black. Peter helps him across the street and the blind boy is suddenly of incredible interest to Peter. How can this be? Peter Berlin is all about the visual (as he says many times in the commentary) and here is a man who can't see him! A man with a camera boldly crosses the street to snap Peter, who of course poses for him, all with the blind boy steadily standing nearby.
The blind boy has a fantasy about Peter and the photographer, and here is where things in "That Boy" get really interesting. The blind boy has never seen Peter, yet he can place him in exact sexual circumstances where Peter is completely worshipped by his partner, most of it not at all hardcore. Can such a fantasy exist? In the admitted self-adoration of Peter Berlin, it most certainly can. The photographer shoots Peter in various states of undress, where Peter does the ultimate striptease in shirking six layers of shorts and G-strings before getting ... nope, not naked. Just as the last snap is undone, the editing lurches into a review of the scene and Peter is then shown the prints of the pictures by the photographer. With images of himself hanging on the wall, Peter lustfully treats himself to some mirror time with the photographer dying for a taste of him. Peter does allow him to touch, even if it means either licking at his cock through his pants or blowing him (in a hell of a deep-throat) while Peter wears a custom-made cock-sock. There isn't really any sexual contact, just more of the sexuality flowing between the guys. All the while, Peter is wide-eyed as he stares at himself in the mirror, not at the photographer who so desperately wants him. To complete the fantasy, the photographer is banished and Peter is alone on a box in a spare room with three men now wanting him. The editing is non-linear, as at some points one of the guys seems to actually get to his cock, while at others, they just stand feet away and breathlessly anticipate such a moment. As Peter wildly jacks himself off, and as the editing spins out of control, the scene ends without a cum-shot. Peter admits in the commentary that he likes to turn people on simply by the visuals and co-commentator John Karr agrees that the lack of a cum-shot was a brilliant move.
Peter and his companion go to a restaurant where they seem to blossom. Peter cracks a smile for the first time, which is noticeable. It's not from the ogling, it's from the non-seeing attentions of his blind paramour. Peter and his friend walk past a health club where a young rapacious black boy stares at them. The story goes back into fantasy as the two meet inside the gym. The kid gets to drool all over Peter, oiled and in laced-up tiny shorts, as Peter works out, with and without a hardon. The editing again does not follow a line, chopped up to provide to the "in the moment" fun of the scene. Peter submits to a blowjob here, on his actual cock, and it's another exciting sucking, though it's kept to an appropriate minimum. The star also cums in this scene.
In the gym shower, the black guy gets to make out with a very attractive bushy-haired mustached man. They come together in no time to grope and jack. There is a lot of grinding and the two seem very into each other. Without warning, Peter joins them, standing behind the black guy in a mock-fuck as the mustache blows. The two boys suck Peter for a bit before he cums again.
There are more smiles as Peter and Arron walk in Golden Gate Park. Peter's glances at his paramour are stunning, caught in beautiful close-up. They are even more excited than the ones he throws himself in the mirror, adding a nice wrinkle to the self-adoration theme. They head to the No Name Bar, where naturally the blind boy has a new fantasy. This one involves a cute blond boy who spies Peter on the corner. While the denizens from the opening scene prance around in full hippie mode, the shirtless boy gets Peter. Peter covers himself in beer and the boy licks it all off his chest and now-sheer wet pants. It's another blissful writhing blowjob, or at least a suggested blowjob, as Peter pours more beer on the kid and another guy whips him. The boy doesn't flinch, aching for whatever taste of Peter and his pants he can get. The boy is then tossed over the table and his mouthwatering butt is exposed. Peter peels off his pants and mock-fucks the boy, making it look exceedingly real, both acting their parts beautifully. It's heatedly done, capped off by a wowing blowjob from the kid that gets Peter to spurt. The boy eats it all up and the sinfully good scene ends.
Peter and his new mate continue down the street, a cruiser still following them, but not having gotten Peter. No one gets Peter, perhaps only Peter himself. The rest of the world is kept at arm's length by this erotic master. He's not a sexual beast, just a predator who promises without delivering, not that anyone minds. This phenomenally interesting film is completely sui generis, unlike even the most famous porn films of its era. It's deliberately evasive, almost softcore most of the time, and that is the best thing about it. Porn has rarely ever been so teasing, so gleefully erotic.
And the Garbo-esque Peter Berlin, who more than 30 years later, continues to be a habitué of San Francisco, will forever be remembered for prowling about in those tight-tight pants.
DVD features: Chapters; shorts (self-produced films by Peter Berlin, "Blueboys: 1 + 2," starring Peter and Marc Majors, Berlin's real-life companion, that is a delicious tease of two men in desperate lust for each other, and "Search," starring just Peter as a man who spies on himself, in a series of fantastic outdoor solo sets); vault footage ("Peter's Vault," a series of erotic musings including a few minutes of a brazen Peter jacking off on a moving train); photo gallery); original trailers ("Nights in Black Leather," 1973, and informative and priceless audio commentary by Peter Berlin and John F. Karr; and no regional coding (playable worldwide).
A DVD Review by Brent Blue
C-A-S-T
Peter Berlin ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Berlin )
John Waters ( http://www.DreamlandNews.com )
Armistead Maupin ( http://www.ArmisteadMaupin.com )
Wakefield Poole ( http://www.WakefieldPoole.com )
Jack Wrangler ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Wrangler )
Robert W. Richards ( http://www.RobertWRichardsArt.com )
Rick Castro ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rick_Castro )
John F. Karr
Dan Nicoletta
Robert Boulanger
Guy Clark
"You wanted to be with him. You wanted to be touched by him. You wanted to have an experience with him." That is the still enduing legacy of Peter Berlin, summed up by one of the commentators in the exquisitely simple documentary "That Man: Peter Berlin," loving rendered by Jim Tushinski. In it, Peter Berlin himself discusses his life and lifestyle. He has the most interesting take on his life, and it's not a nostalgia trip. What he was then he still is now, frank and opinionated, but also hiding behind an image he created for purely personal reasons. However, his image came at a time of gay liberation and it's the rest of the men interviewed who help Peter take his place as a legend.
The commentators get the basics out of the way first off. John Waters declares that he wasn't campy, and not even ironic, that he didn't hang out in San Francisco's fun spots, but rather only the sexual ones, always dressed up in his Prince Valiant hairstyle, tight clothes and bulging crotch. Jack Wrangler declares him "stylized," using something extra to be "an extreme fantasy." His clothing was way over-the-top, and "as strange as Garbo" as per Robert W. Richards. In fact, in one of the film's best sound bytes, legendary Wakefield Poole says he never even spoke to the man. He "fucked with him," but never exchanged words! So, the enigma presented here is a man in overly-theatrical dress parading around gay San Francisco in the early 1970s to the delight of the crowd, but not actually part of the crowd.
Porn reviewer John F. Karr makes an interesting point when discussing the first time he saw Peter Berlin. Karr was with his parents and his mother asked, "what's he selling?" She assumed he was a hustler pushing it all out for anyone to buy, but a young Karr had a different take: that Peter was selling identity and gay potential. That ability to create a landmark icon identity will be a theme throughout this documentary. He was a cartoon come to life, but that cartoon would take on huge power.
The power holds sway over no one more so than Peter himself, still kicking at 60 years old when this documentary was made. His apartment is filled with images of himself from the heydays, coating every inch of the place. He actually looks about the same. The body is still in pretty much the shape it was at the time. When sewn into his pants, the crotch is still awe-inspiring. His hair, though blond, has the same style. A mustache is present at times, and there is inevitable aging (and he himself wonders if it's not time for a lift -- it's not), but in shots of him walking down the street in San Francisco, he inevitably turns heads, if just for his clothing and style. In fact, during the documentary, not one person discusses Peter in the terms one would reserve for a model. No one discusses how handsome he was or the shape of his body. He is only discussed in the context of his style.
Is Peter obsessed with his own image? An argument can certainly be made for that, but this documentary celebrates this part of his life, not the rest of it, so it's not necessarily ego feeding his sometimes-outrageous commentary on himself (he notes that he became a world-famous celebrity so easily because "the world is so boring"), but the necessity of preserving his image the way it was. The original Peter Berlin was confident and cocky. That's why he was so worshipped.
Peter claims he never set out to become famous, but "to be loved and to be wanted." But that can't be all there is, so the commentators chime in on how Peter turned that snippet into an image. John Waters labels him, "Dinah Shore with a hardon." Waters wasn't turned on by him, but he marveled at him. It's merely an unforgettable image. Jack Wrangler says he was an artist, as opposed to his own image of chummy guy-next door. So, to follow Peter's logic, he found out what people wanted and gave it to them in the extreme, but along the way, actually created an image all of its own, something no one else was doing.
And then there is Armin. Armin was born in Germany to a "blueblood" family, his father killed in World War II when he was too young to remember much. He was forced to live on his own when his mother couldn't deal with his homosexuality and he notes that he was thrilled with it, with the "parks and train stations and all those underground places." August 13, 1961 was his first sexual experience, with an East German soldier building the Wall. However, sexual perfection has eluded him ever since because his standard is so difficult to achieve. He basically wants someone just like himself, someone with the same uniqueness of character. "It never never happened. I always had to do the work," he says. Sex for him is not about any of the contact usually associated with sex (fucking and sucking in particular).
Robert Richards has insight into how Armin, now formulating Peter Berlin, would spend an evening of sexual conquest. He would lure someone to him and drop them, moving onto someone else. "There was no human contact other than the visual." Peter himself notes that, "foreplay starts the minute you set your eyes on someone." He opines that once people talk, it kills the moment. To that effect, footage is used from a short film he made of two men looking at each other but never making contact.
Armin became friendly with a photographer, a friend until his death in 1998. From Germany they went to Rome for a year and of course Paris. There is exquisite footage of the subject in Europe, already honing his image in the cafes. Entry to American came via New York City and eventually to San Francisco, where he first admits to "becoming Peter Berlin."
"Peter Berlin was just one of a long line of street personas created here in San Francisco," notes Armistead Maupin. After all, San Francisco at the time was the very center of America's rebellion and freedom. In 1972, he filmed "Nights in Black Leather," already into his 30s, way past the age, he says, of a typical porn star. Then again, "Nights in Black Leather" isn't typical hardcore porn. He stirred a director friend into making it by stressing his exhibitionism, with Peter only the model. His persona in this film is already established -- the look and the attitude, both haughty and hypersexual, but not overtly given to hardcore sexuality. John Karr compares the film to a Warhol picture ( http://Warhol.org ), full of non-events, especially the boring party scene, where absolutely nothing happens. This gibes with his attitude toward sex: show everything, but do nothing. By the way, it's at this time the name Peter Berlin came to be. He was tired of pronouncing Armin over and over and the original last name he chose caused a lawsuit, so the moniker came into being.
When it came time to make "That Boy," Peter was the director, photographer, editor and everything else, his friend having dropped out due to issues relating to financing. Wakefield Poole says that it's an "ego" film. Seeing sex would be an extra, but one went to see "That Boy" because of Peter worship. He becomes immediately an international celebrity. He is happy to dispel rumors about people claiming to have sex with him, frankly stating that no one has been fucked by Peter Berlin since his arrival in America. Though he never made another film, he turns his photographs into a business all of its own. With the advent of video tape, he has a new medium for peddling his wares, all the time living as a hermit. Rick Castro has an amusing story that Peter was offered a Jean Paul Gualtier modeling contract, but he turns it down. Once again, Peter is happy to have his image, but he doesn't physically use it as one might expect.
Armistead Maupin sums up Peter's duality perfectly in one particular story. At the time, Peter was friendly with Robert Mapplethorpe ( http://Mapplethorpe.org ) and they were at a dinner party where Maupin was also a guest. Maupin talked to Peter, or probably Armin, and found him intelligent and well-versed. A few days later, he encounters him in a cruising park, most definitely as Peter, and "commits the cardinal sin" of trying to speak to him, getting no response from Peter. The model strutting in the trees was Peter Berlin, not the man at the dinner party. Armistead has spoken to him, and what had Peter said earlier? Don't talk!
In the mid-70s, he meets James, a gorgeous young man with bright blue eyes, very natural, the opposite of Peter's cartoonish look. They become roommates and he is a frequent subject of Peter's photography, despite a leg deformed by polio. Under Peter's tutelage, he acquires a confidence that is so obvious in the pictures and films. For 20 years, they lived together, through terrible illness at the end. A very candid Peter is frank about assisting James in a suicide to avoid further pain and sickness. This is the most personal the subject ever gets and it's a touching addition to the film, showing the man behind the image, having nothing to do with tight pants and attitude.
"I'm still poor and I'm old," Peter says in discussing his legacy. He doesn't view himself as a fashion icon, but wants to be inspiration to young men who should celebrate what they have. "If you look good, you shouldn't hide it," he says. However, Robert Richards puts him up there in the porn pantheon of Casey Donovan and Al Parker, particularly amazing considering the sheer lack of "porn" that he made. Of course, John Waters thinks he's still viable. "He should make a film for gerontophiliacs!" But Peter himself has the last word: he would do his life all over again, exactly as it was. He makes no apologies. "What a blast I had!"
I first saw "That Man: Peter Berlin" at a gay and lesbian film festival. Frankly, I expected an older crowd, the guys who remembered Peter Berlin from the time, but in fact every age group was represented. Peter Berlin had a certain lure that everyone wanted to see (and admittedly, hearing that Peter himself would be onscreen, I think many where there to see what he looked like now). Discussion after the film centered on how much Tushinksi had absolutely nailed the crux of "Peter Berlin," an image who also happened to be a man. The documentary reveals that in such wonderful detail. It's not a man trapped in an image, for one gets the idea that Peter Berlin himself has a full happy life that has nothing to do with his preening, so the man is not trapped. The image is ever-enduring, locked in thousands of photographs, and it's just that -- an image, a paragon of that period's sexuality, a celebration of it. "Peter Berlin" is a myth who happened to take a human form.
DVD features: Chapters; deleted scenes; additional interviews; gallery; cast and crew bios; audio commentary by director Jim Tushinski; subtitle languages (English, French, Spanish and Portuguese); and no regional coding (playable worldwide).
A DVD Review by Brent Blue