Dennis Hensley | Rubdown / 2010

no nipples

by Douglas Messerli

 

Dennis Hensley (screenwriter and director) Rubdown / 2010 [12 minutes]

“Your mission if you chose to accept it,” begins Dennis Hemsley’s short film Rubdown, “is to go in there, make sure a certain individual isn’t doing something he shouldn’t be doing and undermining the organization.” Playing on the TV series Mission Impossible, this telephonic message sounds simple enough, and is apparently not something that challenges the entire society with regard to their experience with sex and love. Arguably, a chain of massage parlors ought to be certain that their regulations regarding sexual behavior are obeyed. But the whole tone of this work already assumes a position of big brother checking up on the local clients and, more importantly, the workers who if they offer their customers something they may want with regard to sexual release, will be fired, and likely be unlicensed, their careers ended.

     It’s already presumed here, moreover, than in this world terrified of sexual activity that even a bit of masturbatory release should not be permitted in the sub-culture in which this particular company exists. Presumably, they might, in turn, be closed down because of local strictures regarding payment-for-sex, which does indeed push this seemingly innocuous film into the realm of State control.

     Our underground gay detective Andrew (Jaimie Fauth) is, as he puts it, “up for it.” Maybe he might be provided with pleasure even if he has to take away the job of the man who permitted it.

     The controller (Jackie Clark) insists that he should take no notes since he is a “secret shopper,” although what he is possibly shopping for, the pleasure of a massage and maybe just a bit more of a release, is not truly established. But we soon learn this isn’t even really about any sexual action, but is simply a matter of the revelation of the body.

      Certainly his entire appointment with the masseur Hunter (John McCutcheon) seems like a trip to the local bordello, a zaftig receptionist checking him in with a knowing smile. He even has time to take a steam bath before if he’d like, our undercover client’s grin suggesting that he’s looking forward to the attention which Hunter is about to provide him.

     The controller returns to report that just last month “corporate instituted a new “modesty” policy. It is now against the rules for a client’s nipples, regardless of gender, to be exposed to the therapist during the treatment. This now does sound like a long bit of overreach. What if the towel accidently inches down during the rubdown. Does the therapist suddenly then become a criminal?

    Andrew just wonders if Hunter is cute or if, possibly, he can see his nipples. But as the controller reminds him this is not funny business.

    And yes Hunter is terribly cute and most likely gay, telling his customer Andrews in the steam bath, nipples fully exposed, to have a quick rinse before he provides his service. The hypocrisy of the situation is thus made quite clear.

     We soon discover that Hunter is actually in Nursing School, this job paying for his future job of helping people in which he will surely see them in a states of nakedness and distress.

      We also learn that Hunter has had a brief fight with cancer, has recovered, and has been working since to raise money to help cancer patients. So, we quickly realize, this is a nice man. Which further turns Andrew into a kind of villain, attracted to his masseur, probably wishing for further bodily encounters but at the very same moment praying that he never moves the sheet down to expose his supposedly dastardly nipples, the cause, so it appears, of all human sins of the flesh.

     The situation becomes almost unbearable as Andrew the man is pitted against Andrew the undercover agent working to protect American from exposure to human breast.

     Does he keep his briefs on or take them off, does he dare tempt his therapist into the error of his own desires? If he leaves them on is he signaling that he playing it safe?

    The massage is perfect, releasing spots of tension Andrew has forgotten even that he felt. “Relax,” coos Hunter, “this session is all about you.”

     But, of course, it’s actually all about Hunter. And it’s difficult to relax when you know you’re testing a basically innocent man to see that he obeys a truly absurd edit about joy and sex.

     Turned over on his back, Hunter chastely begins with his legs, but Andrew to test him sits up for a moment in a cough, letting the blanket fall down below the line of demarcation. He waits for Hunter to recover them, but the beautiful young masseur seems not to even notice, as inwardly Andrews begs for him to “do the right thing.”

     Finally looking in the direction of Andrew’s face, Hunter moves the blanket upward, explaining that it’s company policy, nothing personal, but he needs keep the nipples tucked away. The good boy has done what he has been ordered to despite the absolute absurdity of the instructions. And so is Hunter’s job and his future career saved for the day. Andrew’s work is done.

     Hunter suggests that he “just got a lot more relaxed,” Andrew agreeing and he lays back to enjoy the rest of the massage.

     Suggesting the thoughts that now cross Andrew’s mind, the film turns into a silly boyfriend film where the two men are seen bicycling together, drinking from a hose, kissing, and otherwise enjoying a life that will truly result in stripping off their clothes, revealing their nipples, and having sex.

    This film, accordingly, does not have the terribly unhappy ending of the most the films in which the State, society, or other institutions have declared rules against love and sex.

      Andrew, lost in dreamland, is gently awakened by Hunter, who suggests he get dressed.

      Our undercover detective quickly reports that Hunter has made the grade, the man himself rushing out to find Andrew and return his forgotten watch. Maybe there is room for that dream to still take place even in this restrictive workplace.

 

Los Angeles, March 27, 2026 | Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (March 2026).