Giving and receiving oral sex ranks near the top of the list of mind-blowing human experiences—no pun intended.
Watching oral sex wherein one is not a participant is another story. It isn’t so much the repetitive nature—fucking is a highly repetitive action, after all—it’s the lack of enthusiasm with which it is undertaken.
With the exception of extreme scenes (Sasha Grey’s irrumatio routines spring to mind), can you remember a blow job scene that got you totally hot and bothered? No. Because most play out like perfunctory warm up exercises performed as a requisite prelude to The Main Event.
Any trace of boredom with the proceedings is countered here by the lurid red of the lipstick, the bubbles in the spit thick on the cock shaft. There’s tenderness and violence in the way he holds her chin as she guides his glans towards the unseen tip of her tongue.
There is an urgency and, simultaneously, a surrendering.
Years ago a fellow film student gave me an unsolicited but, as it turned out, prescient piece of advice: the question of whether a close up will do more than a medium shot, is really a question of what the audience will ask as a result of the lack of context in the close-up; and, are those questions the best questions for them to ask at that moment.
This is one of only a handful of instances where the close-up is preferable.