You’re a shy midwestern girl whose Calvinist father never loved you, because he himself had never been shown how to love. So you escape the only way you can: on a youth group trip to Knott’s Berry Farm, you hook up with a guy who introduces you to the world of snuff porn.
Does this story sound familiar? If it does, well, get in line!
Aside from the theme park (these days I recruit talent at Six Flags Magic Mountain), the 1979 Paul Schrader film “Hardcore,” starring George C. Scott as Jake Van Dorn, the dad who comes to terms with his own lack of grooviness by following his daughter through the sex industry, really spoke to me.
Kristen Van Dorn leaves stifling Grand Rapids for sunny California in this wholesome voyage of discovery. At first her father is overwhelmed by the abundance of flesh available to him and his Bank Americard here, but then he goes native.
“Turn it off!” Van Dorn screams in anguish as he views his daughter on screen in a seedy porno theatre. The shame Dad must have felt when he saw “Directed by Will Ryder”!
We follow Van Dorn from the streets of Hollywood, down to San Diego, and north to San Francisco, the brilliant sexual tapestry of Southern California opening up for him in its complexity of massage parlors, porn sets, and oil wrestling emporia. “Hardcore” really is like a Porn Valley Chamber of Commerce pamphlet brought to life.
Sadly, the 30-year-old movie shows us a Hollywood red light district that is no longer around, including Hustler Magazine’s famous “Think Pink” sign.
I don’t think I’m spoiling anything when I say that father and daughter are reconciled in the end, both learning a little about themselves, Van Nuys, and each other. Thanks Porn Industry!
See also: Watch “Hardcore” on Hulu, “Hardcore” on IMDb
I’d had a surreal moment over 30 years ago in San Diego. I’d buzz around 5th street downtown. Always looking to meet girls at the clubs. It was very seedy then. Now it’s the lovely Gaslamp Quarter. Then it was really run down. I was down there one night and I saw a film set. They’d dressed a real porn arcade. The whole facade was brilliantly flooded. A guy who looked like George C. Scott was standing, waiting outside while the crew worked things out. I stayed for quite a while and then out of a trailer in the street comes the real George C. Scott and walks into the theater. I hung out even longer and realized that the other guy was a stand in. George finally came back out and I tried to get his autograph. He mumbled something, I believe it was “no” shined me on and went back in the trailer. I’d heard he wasn’t that friendly with people.
So I was there. Probably did the above scene at the studio but I’m not sure. I saw the film later and that scene was visceral. It tore me up and moved me. I have a daughter now and fortunately she’s on a much better path.
I’ll never forget the connection.
Thanks for that story! I really would have loved to have seen the way those cities looked in the 70’s. If you also ended up on the set of “Exorcist III,” that would really freak me out.
Weird, I also had a gruff encounter with Scott, in the mid-90s, when he was doing Inherit the Wind on Broadway with Charles Durning. He did sign my program, though, despite being an asshole about it. (Tony Randall, the producer for that show, was similarly a prick–and say, if they can have a female Odd Couple production, why haven’t we seen the porn version yet?)
Anyway, thanks to Hardcore, I always thought if I ever got into porn I’d give myself the name “Jism Jim.”
No seedier George than when he played Burt opposite Fast eddie Felson whn he says about Piper Laurie, “that’s the kinda dame she was.If it diddnt happen today it wouldda happened yesterday,”in the Hustler
I’m so sorry to hear the great Tony Randall was unkind. But I can imagine “Love, Sidney” takes a lot out of a person.
I just watched this the other night. When Peter Boyle calls George on the phone and says he’s in town {Grand Rapids] and to meet him, they end up walking into a porn theater. If you look at the reflection on the storefront window, you will see a yellow RTD bus. I am pretty sure this exterior scene was shot either on Hollywood Blvd near Western or Hollywood Blvd near Vine.
There are those would say that your laser focus “No she doesn’t really see me/She just sees her own reflection” is a sign of too much time on your hands. I am not one of those people. In fact, I think one of those people should die so you could have their time, too. Then you’d be able to tell me about the ghost in “Three Men And A Baby.”