Don’t “Play the Game”: movie review
Update 7/3/12: I’m sorry that Andy Griffith died, and I worry that his death will create interest in Play the Game, an awful movie. I’m moving my review from August 2009 to the top today, hoping to steer you away from spending your valuable time seeing this film. No, it doesn’t empower seniors or teach about senior sex — quite the opposite. — Joan Price
You’d think that a lively movie about elders dating and having sex (or wanting to) would be just the kind of film I’d applaud. I did applaud the idea of Play the Game when I first heard about it — until I actually viewed it. Maybe I’m just too sensitive about senior sex, but I found this film neither funny nor instructive. In fact, I found it cringe-worthy for these reasons:
1. The whole premise of the movie is that widowed Grandpa Joe(Andy Griffith), living in a retirement community, is lonely but doesn’t know how to play dating games, while surrounded by women, one of whom (Doris Roberts) he’d like to date, and another (Liz Sheridan) who wants to seduce him. Grandson David (Paul Campbell) takes the old man under his wing and teaches him to manipulate women.
We’re led to think that Grandpa will end up reversing roles and educating Grandson about how to stop playing games and communicate honestly, respect women, and create meaningful relationships — something Grandson has been unable to do in his own life. But (spoiler alert:) the opposite happens. We learn that the object of Grandson’s affections (Marla Sokoloff) has been manipulating him more than he’s been manipulating her, and has taught her grandmother (Roberts) to do the same. There, I’ve ruined the ending for you and you don’t have to go see it.
The characters all deserve each other.
2. One of the so-called hilarious incidents is Liz Sheridan as an elder seductress crushing Viagra into a glass, adding wine, and giving it to her seductee without telling him what’s in the glass. This is such a horrible, dangerous idea that I couldn’t suspend my reality check long enough to laugh at the predictible results.
“It’s a miracle!” exclaims our re-energized and rising hero. It wouldn’t have been a miracle if he had been on heart medicine — it would have been a death scene. How funny is that? (This scene used to be online, but seems to have disappeared.)
If you must see this (and I don’t recommend it, unless you want to see if you agree with me), please take a teenager with you and plan a long talk afterwards to debunk everything you saw. Otherwise, your teen might see it on his/her own and believe the dating advice aimed at both young folks and seniors.
My verdict: Ick, skip it. Here’s the trailer, but it doesn’t show how bad it is or how insulting to seniors.
X1 Orgasmatron review: If a jackhammer is sexy
When “Dr. X. Treme” offered to send me the X1 Orgasmatron for review, I jumped at the chance. It’s a funny looking contraption — one of my Naked at Our Age Facebook followers asked if I got it from Woody Allen when I posted a photo.
The actual machine resembles a black plastic light bulb, over which you fit a bubblegum pink dildo. The light bulb has one cord, but you have two more cords to attach before you can plug it into a wall socket.
Yes, three cords, total. Once you’re all plugged in, so to speak, you dial up the intensity you want, and supposedly get a physics-law abiding orgasm. According to the inventor’s website, http://www.doctorxtreme.com:
This vibrator’s design is based on an understanding of the applied physics of sex machines… Most vibrating machines only move a tiny patch of skin on the tip of the clitoris. While this part of the body is incredibly sensitive, the clitoris is like an iceberg. A vast structure of nerves exist beneath the surface of the skin that are not stimulated by a typical small-mass vibrator.
I’m sorry, I really wanted to like the X1 Orgasmatron. But it didn’t work that way for me. If my clitoris was an “iceberg,” the X1 Orgasmatron was a giant jackhammer battering away at it–and at my hand which was trying to hold it.
I have no idea how it might have worked as a dildo, because at 1.9 inches in diameter, it was much too girthy for me. Dr. X. Treme assured me,
The “dildo” can also act as a mechanical finger on the outside of the clit, and that is how some users exclusively use it, as well as turning the whole human hand into a vibrator.
So that’s what I tried to do.
Unfortunately, it was uncomfortable to hold, the “fingertip” was very hard (consider a softer, slightly squishy attachment, Dr. X.), and the combination of the noise, the silliness of having three cords to contend with, and needing to use both hands just to keep it from escaping as it clattered about made the experience too unsexy to continue.
Yes, I tried dialing down the intensity, but then it was just one more toy that didn’t deliver. I wanted the intensity — but not in the style of a silicone jackhammer.
Did you notice that the slogan of XTreme Orgasmatronics is “Less pants, more science.” What did you make of that? I had to ask Dr. X. Treme, “I don’t understand ‘less pants’ – do you mean fewer trousers, or less heavy breathing?”
He replied, “The idea of the tag line is that when one applies physics to sex toy design it’s still real science but trousers are no longer needed in order to go to work.” Oh…. May I respectfully suggest that Dr. X. rethink this tag line? One more thing to rethink: the X1 Orgasmatron retails for $180.
If a sex toy doesn’t work for me, I try to figure out who would like it. After all, I’m just one person with particular tastes, and just because I’m ready to pull out all three cords doesn’t mean you won’t love it. If my jackhammer analogy made you squirm with delight rather than recoil, you’d probably have fun with this. Whether you’d have $180 worth of fun, I can’t say.
Update: in case this 2012 review inspired you to get your own Orgasmatron, sorry, there are no purchase links because the company went out of business.
Reader: “Replacement girlfriend? Since when are wives disposable?”
I am one of the sex educators who answers question sent to the Safer Sex for Seniors website. I just answered this one and wanted to share it with you, too. It’s an issue that either has or will come up for us, unfortunately:
I’m 74 and my wife is 78. She is a resident of a care center while her hip heals from being broken and I’m still at home. She also has dementia! I’m being advised to put her into a senior home for the balance of her life and go find a replacement girlfriend.
My question is: Now that I’m at this age I’ve lost or forgotten how to find an acceptable date. My friends and family think it’s outrageous for me to replace my wife. But our state case manager is strongly backing the suggestion for a new girl in my life. Since when are wives disposable — except until death do us part?
Joan Price answers:
This is a sad and scary time for you, I understand. Your wife is badly injured and suffering from dementia, and others are advising you to let her stay in a residential facility where she can be taken care of – not temporarily, but for the rest of her life. I can understand how upset you must feel. This isn’t what you and your wife thought your golden years would be.
If you’re asking whether you should start dating, only you know whether that’s the right step for you. No one is suggesting that your wife is disposable, though they may sound that way to you in your grief.
I think those who are advising you to date are trying to let you know gently that your wife will not be returning to your home or to your relationship, and when it feels right to you to find companionship, it’s okay to do that. They’re not encouraging you to “dispose” of your wife or your vows. They’re trying to look out for your emotional well-being by letting you know that if you do want to explore finding a new relationship now or in the future, there’s nothing wrong with that.
I can see from the way you state your question, though, that it’s probably too soon to take that suggestion. Perhaps better right now would be a grief support group. Although your wife has not died, you have lost her companionship and even her presence in your life. A grief counselor or support group could be immensely valuable to you.
When you’re ready, you don’t need to feel guilty about your own need to be close to another person emotionally and sexually– that’s natural and a part of being human. You would not be trying to “replace” your wife in any way, just taking care of your own social and intimate needs. You may need to explain that to your family (or let them read this) if they still think it’s “outrageous” that you might look for a relationship.
I wish you the best. I know this is the hardest of times.
[Originally published at http://safersex4seniors.org/are-partners-with-dementia-disposable/.]
What You Should Never Say/Send to a Senior Sex Educator
But part of making myself easy to contact is that sometimes (rarely, thankfully) I get creepy emails and inappropriate messages.
Here’s a sample. They’re all real. I couldn’t make this up. Names withheld so the writers won’t be more embarrassed than we need them to be:
- “i must say nothing more sexy then some one over 60 nude i just love it. ever get to pa” and later he added, “could i say you would not need that toy” Uh huh, and what have you told me that will make me want to get nude with you in Pennsylvania? Listen, guys, just because you can type without capital letters and you feel like propositioning someone, that doesn’t mean you should. And even if you’re God’s gift to women, don’t presume that you’ll replace my Magic Wand.
- “I like what you said tonight. Okay if I send you some drunken, dirty texts?” This was said to me after I gave a bookstore reading. No, thank you, do not send me either drunken or dirty texts, and certainly do not combine drunken and dirty. That will never interest me in the slightest.
- Do not ever, ever send me a picture of your penis. I like penises a lot. Some of my best friends have penises. All of my lovers have had penises. But that’s the thing — I like penises that are owned by men I like. A photo of a penis all by itself, hanging out of unzipped jeans (as was the one a 22-year-old man sent me recently), will never make me go, “Yum.”