There’s a certain, distinctive sound — at least there was in the days before six-channel digital mixes came into vogue, with their full dynamic range and dead-empty silences — made by a woman’s moans on a film’s soundtrack. Especially if you’re watching a worn print, the sound will be distorted. Every gasp surges up from near-silence, the speaker crackling with each breath drawn. It’s a harsh sound, not much like the noises that real people make. But it’s also a very distinctive sound. The dirtier the film print that you’re watching, the more noise that ecstasy makes.

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