At first glance, Todd Max Carey’s documentary tOuch Kink might seem intimidating — it’s about the world of BDSM, after all. But this is not the case at all, because, really, the film is about humaneness, or rather, a curiosity about one of the iterations of humanness, of which community is a core aspect.
The documentary looks at the real-world practice and function of BDSM, grounding it in testimony from members of the widespread and thriving community, following specifically four members. Carey presents us with a tender documentary that in one graceful and intimate swoop empathetically debunks preconceived notions relating to the kink community, while also celebrating the community itself, jubilantly allowing for it to reveal itself at its own pace. This documentary is compassionate and curious, and ultimately deeply enamored of our bodies in the way its subjects are.
Carey’s narration punctuates the film, telling his tale of curiosity about the world of BDSM and kink, which was sparked by January Seraph, an actress and muse to Carey. Seraph, who passed away in 2017, links Carey to various other members so the director may learn meaningfully about the topic. To gain a more balanced perspective, Carey follows Grace, a soccer mom, who is introduced to the practice of kink; we follow her to gain an outsider’s perspective. The film also follows Robin, the slave of a Dominatrix, and Mistress Evilyne, a U.K.-based Dominatrix who faces harassment after she is outed by the press.
As Carey follows his subjects into conventions, movie sets, seminars, and even into their own homes as they drink wine and watch the news, what takes place is something more than a normalization of something many people might have been afraid of, something that they only had popular, mainstream media to feed them skewed and skewered images of. What emerges is an un-ignorable and unabashed sense of love not only for the self, but for others, as well. Carey’s lens is sympathetic and curious because it enters every scene with a genuine desire to learn, a desire to not only understand but to allow us to understand, as well.
We learn through the testimonies that the BDSM and kink community is deeply rooted in freedom and a love for freedom; it’s rooted in an acceptance of the body, in a fearlessness to allow sensations that bring on goodness and pleasure, in an acceptance of desire as something not to be snuffed, but to be satisfied. The community is rooted in an intense love for humanity in this sense, for its encouragement to experience the human form in all its aspects.
Leaving this documentary, it’s impossible not to be overcome by a greater sense of awareness of one’s own body, you might question what makes you tick, what your skin likes and dislikes. Leaving the documentary, it’s impossible not to feel as though mainstream media has done this community founded in love, in freedom, in acceptance, a grand injustice. So many of the people whose testimony Carey has collected are people who tenderly speak to the immensity of their love.
Mainstream society under patriarchal capitalism contains a binding force, a command that we curb or curtail or kill all that is human in us; mainstream society is repressing all the life in us, this film seems to say, while here is a community that has found a way to be unabashedly alive. This documentary is tender and kind and accepting, but more than anything, it will stay with you in the way that hope stays with us — unable to be destroyed, hope always finds a way, and unable to be left behind, we always have our body with us. Ultimately, Carey shows us that all attempts to forget our form will be futile, and so wouldn’t our time be more well spent if we celebrated our bodies and our life?
