Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Was I a Sex Object?’ on Max, a Documentary Series About Nudity on Spanish TV

Was I a Sex Object? (now streaming on Max) is a Spanish series dedicated wholly to one wild phenomenon of the 1990s: boobs on TV. Of course, that has all manner of implications, especially in these (relatively) enlightened times, about misogyny and sexual power dynamics. Somehow, we got through the first episode without hearing the phrase “male gaze,” but that’s essentially what this series is about. Also rampant horniness. Can’t forget the horniness. 

WAS I A SEX OBJECT?: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

Opening Shot: VHS-era-grade footage of bikini babes. 

The Gist: So many bikini babes. In thongs and such, even. On TV! And not cable – public TV! That was Spain in the 1990s. Culture in the country loosened up in the 1970s after dictator Francisco Franco died, and it proved to be a bit of a slippery slope. That’s overcompensation for you. There was one TV channel in Spain at the time, Television Espanola, and its big hit was Un, Dos, Tres, the type of catch-all variety show that was popular at the time. So popular, 20 million people watched it every week, in a country whose population topped out at 35 million. The show featured a smarmy male host with captial-H Hair who transitioned between comedy skits, game show segments, song-and-dance numbers – the whole shebang. 

One of the prevailing features of Un, Dos, Tres was female “hostesses,” who didn’t necessarily perform as much as stand there in skimpy outfits, smiling and caressing the host’s lapel or contestants’ potential prizes, never, ever, ever saying a word. Now, I’ll pause for a moment to indulge an American point-of-view: These women were a lot like the models on The Price is Right who posed on the Showcase Showdown set with one hand on a hip and the other on the hood of a shiny new Chevette. 

Anyway, back to Spain, where “hostess” fashions covered less and less until the bits started popping out. Case in point, New Year’s Eve 1987, when singer Sabrina Salerno bounced a breast out of her bustier and the network not only ran the taped segment anyway, but re-ran the key three-second clip in case you missed the nip. Commentators mention how it elevated Salerno’s career, of course. They also mention that the outrage reflected how conservative their society was at the time, and this was 17 years before Americans pruded out all extreme-like about the Janet Jackson/Justin Timberlake Super Bowl “wardrobe malfunction.” 

At this narrative pivot point, the episode dives into a scattered narrative about the formation of private TV networks – especially Telecinco – that sought to exploit horny male viewers at seemingly every turn, with one exec allegedly saying once that he wanted his viewership to be able to “smell p—-y at home.” It includes extensive interviews with the “Mama Chichos,” a group of “hostesses” who explain that they were paid well to squeeze themselves into uncomfortable skimpy garb, and share that the public perceived them as “a body without a brain.” They and others proclaim all this to be sexist, misogynist and condescending, but that absolutely goes without saying, doesn’t it?

What Shows Will It Remind You Of? We Americans got a pretty good sense of the Spanish-language less-is-best fashion aesthetic in the cable-TV days, when your 15-year-old hetero male self would be flipping through channels and come across Sabado Gigante on Univision, and be sexually awakened by several robust eyefuls of cheesecake.

Our Take: All together now: Fox became a hardcore sex channel so gradually, I didn’t even notice! We haven’t reached the point of Was I a Sex Object? where folks were struttin’ their pubes on Spanish TV, but it’s teased early on. Gotta keep you tuned in, you know. That’s farther down the “progressive nudity” scale (see “most pilot-y line” below). The 49-minute debut sets the tone for a series that so far struggles to find the sweet spot between kooky kitschy-nostalgia retro-ism and a serious analysis of gross female objectification in pop culture. 

That struggle might be a product of the interviews with the Mama Chichos, who look back on their youthful days in spangly with equal parts fondness and trepidation. (One woman laughs and shakes her head at how she was recruited to be a “hostess” before she was 18. Frankly, we’re not surprised, but still, yikes.) They don’t share their ultimate showbiz fates – hopefully the series gets to that in subsequent episodes – but you’ll want to stick around to learn if they perceive their stories as live-and-learn cautionary tales or put a positive spin on them; they even show off some choreographed moves from decades ago, seemingly with more joy than squick. Yet one assumes their experiences inevitably get dark, as the tease for episode two reveals that men “went hunting” on the sets of those TV shows.

Part of the issue with Was I a Sex Object? is a prevailing you-kinda-had-to-be-there notion, where those of us who didn’t see any of this stuff firsthand feel a bit lost at sea among the talking heads (some of whom have yet to be properly identified) and goofy old clips of sensationalist TV shows. Its lack of inclusiveness dovetails with a sloppy presentation of facts, making it a slightly bewildering watch for those of us without the complete context. But I have to admit, it’s hard not to be fascinated by the promise of an in-depth analysis of how this Spanish-TV titillation phenomenon snowballed into extremity. 

Sex and Skin: We see Sabrina Salerno’s Boob of Destiny, as well as scads of barely-covered T&A and cartoonish drawings of full-frontal naked ladies.

Parting Shot: Talking heads teasing the next episode.

Sleeper Star: Veteran actress Miriam Diaz Aroca shares how her work as a “hostess” on Un, Dos, Tres led her to be noticed by Spanish cinema treasure Pedro Almodovar, who cast her in one of his films (High Heels). 

Most Pilot-y Line: Please note that the sloppy translation-via-subtitle results in some awkward diction. Anyway, commentator Juan Sanguino pinpoints Spanish TV’s turning point here: “In the process of eroticization of television in Spain, in this process of progressive nudity, always of women, the great turning point is, inevitably, Sabrina’s tit.”

Our Call: So far, compelling subject matter – a pop-culture phenomenon that spun out of control – trumps crummy translations and structural sloppiness. Give it another ep or two. STREAM IT.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

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