Loughlin, Gerard. Oxford:  Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2004. 306 + xxx pp. $29.95 (USD). ISBN: 0-631-21180-2 (paper).

[1] In this dense theological study, Gerard Loughlin flies in the face of many mainstream Westerners’ assumptions by asserting that sex and Christianity are not inherently opposed but are, in fact, a match made in heaven. Using popular film as a dialogue partner, Alien Sex develops a daring new Christian body theology that defends human sexuality—whether hetero- or homosexuality—as the sphere of life where we encounter the divine most powerfully.

[2] Running as a connective thread through the book’s various chapters is the metaphor of alien sex: a terrifying and intimate act of congress with a being who is essentially Other. For Loughlin, both our human relationships and our interactions with the divine are characterized by a mysterium tremendum et fascinans that results from our experience of distance and difference. In erotic encounter lies the potential for this difference to be maintained and known even in the act of connection. Sex with that which is alien, then, provides the opportunity for us to know ourselves through contrast. As Loughlin writes lyrically, “This is the possibility of the membrane, of the tissue that separates and connects; the communion of skin. It is the possibility of a desire that flows between bodies; between two shots of a film, two lovers in a bed, between creatures and their creator. It is the difference that unites; the cut that connects” (xi). Erotic desire becomes the agent of union, both human and divine.

[3] Loughlin’s view is politically far to the left of the Christian majority today, but his argument is grounded in sources that are central to the Christian tradition, particularly the writings of Paul and Augustine. Despite this foregrounding of theology, however, the book is omnivorous in both theoretical approaches and subject matter. In addition to quoting liberally from the New Testament and the Song of Songs, Loughlin draws on philosophers and cultural theorists as diverse as Plato, Hume, Levinas, de Beauvoir, Metz, Bataille and Zizek. Visual art such as Titian’s Noli me Tangere and classic literary works like Dante’s Divine Comedy are treated at length next to close readings of popular films. To knowledgeably read Alien Sex requires not only a graduate level education in cultural studies and theology but also a thorough familiarity with Western popular culture. The book’s provocative title is complimented on the cover by a sensuous still from the science fiction film Barbarella. Although its difficulty and commitment to the Christian tradition mark Alien Sex as intended for an audience of theologians and students of theology, its packaging helps to attract only those who also dare to drink deeply of postmodern pop culture.

[4] Those who find Loughlin’s broad range of knowledge overwhelming may still find themselves being carried along by the sheer energy and creativity of his arguments. Alien Sex opens with a discussion of the body and desire and a synopsis of the book’s approach.  Part two explores the connections between Plato’s cave, the cinema, and the church, playing with these competing metaphors to speculate whether truth is best found within or without these enclosures, and exploring the connections between bodily desire and the gaze. In the final section, Loughlin moves on to close readings of the Alien films, Breaking the Waves, The Devils, and Interview with the Vampire. The book closes with a christological exploration of desire and the creation of the Kingdom of Heaven on earth, as well as a gentle examination of the question of Jesus’ sexuality.

[5] Although the audience capable of fully appreciating Loughlin’s wide-ranging cultural interests, his passionate championing of human sexuality, and his firm foundation in Christian theology is a small one, Alien Sex is a significant accomplishment in the field of contemporary theology. Loughlin’s prose is dense but clear, and his exposition of the films and related theological issues add depth to the reader’s understanding of both. This is not a text that distorts the messages of films in service of a theological agenda, nor is it one in which theology bows entirely to culture. Loughlin’s theology may be radical, but it is deeply committed to the submerged but persistent current of sacred eroticism that he finds in the Christian tradition.

Christine Hoff Kraemer
Boston University
chk@bu.edu