Posted: 09/24/2006

I Am a Sex Addict

(2006)

by Aaron Riccio

Presented as a tongue-in-cheek meta-documentary, I Am a Sex Addict chronicles the life of Caveh Zahedi (also the writer/director), a man who is poignantly described as “constantly falling in love at the drop of a hat” but is more realistically a fetishist for prostitutes. The film doesn’t follow the poignant route—nor would we expect that of a film with such a brazen title—but it’s remarkably stale with the actual sex, too. The comedy is flinchingly unfunny, and the bonus features are acutely uncomfortable, and the whole affair seems like Caveh Zahedi trying to achieve some sort of catharsis, first through comedy, then through pathos. Visually, the whole thing is so scattered, with such an on-and-off supporting cast of women, that it’s hard to appreciate the film. (Ironically, the film’s highlight is the editing, which smoothly splices scene after scene in sync with the narrative—more music video than movie.)

One style that’s mercilessly exploited is Caveh’s behind-the-scenes destruction of the fourth wall. In the middle of the reenactments of his sex-addict story, he’ll suddenly speak to the camera, or he’ll do that cheesy trick of narrating something only to have the character then do exactly that. Toward the beginning of the film, Caveh pauses for a moment to explain that though it’s supposed to be 1984, and Paris, that the audience will have to use its imagination, as they didn’t have the budget for France. As for his age, a group of makeup artists rush into the frame, drape a towel around his neck, and spray paint his bald spot into oblivion.

I don’t mind that Caveh blurs the line between reality and movie—I think it’s entertaining to wonder how much of his own life he’s bringing to his work. If the bonus features are any indication of Caveh’s personal life, it’s something he should’ve brought more of, if only to move the audience a little. But the film’s cohesiveness is ruined by the artsy jumps through time and sly transitions, far too distracting for a film ostentatiously about sex.

Speaking of sex: once we circumnavigate the introduction and get back to the first prostitute (Caveh’s case zero), the tirade begins in earnest and I Am a Sex Addict begins to delineate the “strategies” Caveh employs to get this fascination out of his system. (Step One involves masturbation; step 10 involves doing it with his girlfriend there.) This is a rather stoic romp of R-rated amateur sex scenes (mostly oral, as if it matters). But it seems more about shock than comedy or drama: Caveh resists intercourse with a prostitute until she says the magic phrase: “Rape me.” Is this funny? Can Caveh’s double-takes to the camera and his washed-out face sell this film? No. It’s sordidly cute, if anything, but dismissively passive.

Aaron Riccio is a film and theatre critic living in New York City. Check out his blog here.

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