It would be nice if we could write off the inclusion of naked female bodies as evidence of modern film’s strict allegiance to a code of authenticity. The thing is, we don’t need to see breasts or bottoms to be convinced that two people are making love, or to be convinced that a particular character wields the sexual power assigned her by the plot.

Occasionally, nudity does serve as an integral part of a film’s message or story. I can still remember taking in Born on the Fourth of July (1989) as a senior in college, a movie so powerful and overwhelming that I have since avoided it. In Oliver Stone’s second Vietnam flick, a soldier paralyzed by warfare tries to prove to himself that he’s still a whole person by hiring a prostitute. In the scene where she appears and tries to pleasure her client, her totally naked body is simultaneously besides the fact and absolutely necessary to convey the degree of emotional trauma contingent with Ron Kovic’s recently, dramatically altered physical status.

Usually, however, nudity’s presence accomplishes little that is helpful and, potentially, much that is harmful.

I imagine that a number of guys out there have tried, like me, to come up with mental tricks to counter the presence of flesh in film. Sometimes, a movie will telegraph the impending unveiling, giving the willing prude ample time to avert his eyes. And, occasionally, it’s possible to enter a certain perceptual state where one sees without being affected by (or taking away from the theater) the enticing image. This seems a bit easier to do as one gets older, and more likely to occur if one knows nudity is coming before deciding to watch a film. (It also helps if, like me, you watch many of your movies while exercising or working on the computer, so that your mind doesn’t customarily demand unrestricted access to every single shot in a film.)

Why would some males do this? Why try so hard to dodge random arousal? Is this the narrow-minded, doctrinaire behavior of a few folk uncomfortable with their sexuality, with the body and desires that God gave them?

I can only speak authoritatively about myself, but I’d venture to guess that, for a number of guys, such attempts rise from a conviction that seeing someone naked on screen (as in a magazine or on the web), creates the artifice of intimacy without creating any real reciprocity. The guy who looks at a naked woman and allows himself to feel good creates a fantasy which his imagination totally controls. It doesn’t matter that the woman chose to be filmed in this way for whatever complex of reasons: in the viewer’s mind, a one-sided power dynamic is created that objectifies the woman, that flattens her into one facet of her being. She obviously cannot see you, nor communicate her experiences, thoughts, or emotions to you. There is no sharing in such a situation—only taking.

For those of us committed for life to another woman, such a situation is worse because even when the scene in question doesn’t actually engender a fantasy in the male mind, it introduces competing standards against which some will inevitably measure their spouses. Sustaining a vibrant, committed marriage is difficult enough for those moving among the many demands made on them by professional and personal life without having the entertainment industry heighten our struggles by dangling quick fixes in front of us—the promise of easy, unearned, and unbinding physical intimacy. As Jesus tells us, the imagined liaison with one not our spouse is as spiritually damaging as the actual act (Matthew 5:28).

Part II to follow soon . . .