Inside Deep Throat

Right at the start of this documentary by trash experts Randy Barbato and Fenton Bailey (Party Monster, The Eyes of Tammy Faye, Hidden Fuhrer: Debating the Enigma of Hitler's Sexuality etc.) a title proclaims the facts about its subject, the infamous 1972 porn film Deep Throat: Made for $25,000 it went on to take somewhere around $600 million, making it proportionally the most profitable film ever made.

While this figure can be disputed, having been inflated by the film's mob backers who used it as a way of laundering money from their other activities, it's still something of an indicator of the impact the film had on American society as the first porno to reach beyond the traditional ghetto and attract a mainstream audience. (We can note by way of comparison that, according to figures from the IMDB, The Godfather had a US gross of $134,219,881 by 1997.)

The irony is that, but for the publicity granted Deep Throat by the moral campaigners who sought to ban it, it might well have came and went largely unnoticed by the majority. Instead, it became a rallying point for different camps to promote their visions of the American Dream. Crucially, the fault lines that emerged not only followed familiar, long established conservative/progressive lines but also, as with the case of anti-porn feminists and the nascent religious right, led to some curious marriages of convenience.

Unsurprisingly few emerge from the filmmakers' eye unscathed: The moralists come across as hypocritical careerists and opportunists looking for easy targets and scapegoats in the form of the pornographers. They, in turn, seem often as not mafia types happy to exploit a rhetoric of artistic expression and civil liberties – all the way to the bank. Hollywood, meanwhile, adopted a similar position out of self-interest, worried that it would be next in line, whilst also shoring up the boundaries between itself and the porn world.

If, then, the impact of Deep Throat on American society was considerable, that on its stars was immeasurable. Whether or not one believes Linda Lovelace's claims that she was forced to participate in the film by her brutal husband-cum manager Chuck Traynor, there's little doubt that she got a pretty raw deal. None of the money made by the film ever came her way. Her moment of stardom was fleeting; the damage to her reputation permanent.

But the film also makes you wonder if the anti-porn feminists who later took up her cause were much better. Certainly archive footage from shortly before her death where, broke, she posed for the porn magazine Leg Show, suggests sisterhood too had its limits.

At least Lovelace was granted immunity from prosecution when the Deep Throat was put on trial. Her co-star Harry Reems – initially the production assistant on the film, only taking on the role at the last minute – was not, facing the prospect of a long jail term as the one to be made an example of by the Nixon/Ford administration reeling from – a delicious twist of irony – Watergate and its Deep Throat.

Though a change of government effectively saved Reems here, the damage was done in so far his chances of a mainstream career were likewise shattered, as he was dropped from the role of the coach in Grease on account of his past, precipitating a slide into alcoholism. Thankfully, Reems, now a born-again Christian and successful realtor, has since recovered and reconciled himself with his past.

Director Gerard Damiano, an ex-hairdresser/beauty salon owner, did not fare particularly well from Deep Throat either: Forced to abandon his one-third share of the film by his mafia partners the Peraino brothers for a desultory sum – the classic offer he couldn't refuse, it would seem – he too saw nothing of the millions it made. Nor did mainstream opportunities emerge, only further low- to no-budget porn productions like The Devil in Miss Jones. (Which is a better film, by the way.)

While this is not a particularly insightful or artistic documentary, shot MTV-style and with many areas where you wish the filmmakers had probed deeper or said more – they take Deep Throat's purported box-office as a given, for instance, and (perhaps understandably) don't examine the organised crime aspect terribly much – it is always entertaining and provides much food for thought, with many contributions and contributors I haven't space to discuss here.

The moral of the story? Live and let live, I guess: By trying to outlaw something you'll only succeed in making it more attractive to more people. It's a lesson, alas, that all too many politicians today don't seem to have learned.

Or, perhaps they've learned it too well: What if the real, covert, aim is a permanent state of "wars" that can never be won; of "wars" that provides useful tools to keep just enough of the relevant populace – round about 51% of US voters seems as good a figure as any – afraid of the rest and of freedom. It's a sobering thought, and one that, albeit indirectly, confirms Deep Throat's continuing significance…