Appendix 1: Selected Films

Appendix 1: Selected Films The very random selection of films in this appendix may appear to be arbitrary, but it is an attempt to suggest, from a varied collection of titles not otherwise fully covered in this volume, that approaches to the treatment of sex in the cinema can represent a broad church indeed. Not all the films listed below are accomplished – and some are frankly maladroit – but they all have areas of interest in the ways in which they utilise some form of erotic expression. Barbarella (1968, directed by Roger Vadim) This French/Italian adaptation of the witty and transgressive science fiction comic strip embraces its own trash ethos with gusto, and creates an eccentric, utterly arti- ficial world for its foolhardy female astronaut, who Jane Fonda plays as basically a female Candide in space. The film is full of off- kilter sexuality, such as the evil Black Queen played by Anita Pallenberg as a predatory lesbian, while the opening scene features a space- suited figure stripping in zero gravity under the credits to reveal a naked Jane Fonda. Her peekaboo outfits in the film are cleverly designed, but belong firmly to the actress’s pre- feminist persona – although it might be argued that Barbarella herself, rather than being the sexual plaything for men one might imagine, in fact uses men to grant herself sexual gratification. The Blood Rose/La Rose Écorchée (aka Ravaged, 1970, directed by Claude Mulot) The delirious The Blood Rose was trumpeted as ‘The First Sex Horror Film Ever Made’. In its uncut European version, Claude Mulot’s film begins very much like an arthouse movie of the kind made by such directors as Alain Resnais: unortho- dox editing and tricks with time and the film’s chronology are used to destabilise the viewer. But then two homicidal sex- crazed dwarves appear (bizarrely clad in animal skins) and it becomes completely impossible to take any of the blood- drenched – and erotic – goings- on seriously. The Body (1971, various directors) In the United States, Metro- Goldwyn- Mayer presented this British documentary that they had picked up in a slightly mendacious fashion, suggesting that it was a far more salacious film than its makers had intended. The Body began with a lengthy travelling short along a line of men and women, the majority of them naked, supposedly suggesting the progress of the human body from birth to death. The actual strategy of the film was ambitious, showing, for instance, the human organism’s inner organs with special photography. But the film was sold in the US on the basis of its brief inclusion of scenes of sexual intercourse and 196 Appendix 1 197 childbirth, as well as one scene in which a couple indulge in oral sex. Inevitably, those who had queued up for these brief moments were largely disappointed. Brimstone & Treacle (1982, directed by Richard Loncraine) The singer Sting was given the central role here as a mentally unstable young con- fidence trickster who inveigles himself into the home of a bourgeois couple (played by the dependable Denholm Elliott and Joan Plowright, making up for Sting’s one- note performance). The couple have a mute daughter (played by Suzanna Hamilton) who never leaves her bed, and she is taken advantage of by a visitor who might be satanic or might be an emissary from God. Dennis Potter’s original play was the sub- ject of much criticism from TV reformers who saw it as blasphemous, and who cited the scenes where the character played by Sting in the film takes sexual advantage of the unresisting young girl as a reason for banning it. By the time it was filmed for the cinema, the outrage had died down, but although it was effectively made, Brimstone & Treacle lacks the corrosive charge of the original television play. Closely Observed Trains (1966, directed by Jirí Menzel) One of the great favourites of international cinema from the 1960s comes up as fresh as paint despite the passage of time. Milos, a dispatcher’s apprentice at a village railway station in occupied Czechoslovakia, longs to lose his virginity. Oblivious to the war and the resistance movement that surround him, he embarks on a journey of sexual awakening and self- discovery, encountering a universe of frustration, eroticism and adventure. Menzel’s delightful film won numerous awards including the Academy Award for best foreign language film in 1968. Crimes of Passion (1984, directed by Ken Russell) For all its infelicities, Ken Russell’s bizarre sex drama – or sex comedy – boasts two memorable performances: Kathleen Turner excels as a woman without a fixed iden- tity (fashion designer by day, downmarket prostitute by night) and Anthony Perkins, channelling his Norman Bates persona, dials up the hysteria as a sex- obsessed, psych- otic preacher. As ‘China Blue’, Turner echoes Hitchcock’s Marnie as a frigid woman who uses her sexual attraction to cheat men, but – unlike Marnie – China is able to use sex directly and as a form of revenge against the male sex. Apart from Russell’s kinetic, unfocused direction, the film was compromised by a blank performance from John Laughlin as an ordinary man who becomes obsessed with China. The sex scenes that caused such a rumpus at the time – including the abuse of a policeman, gleefully sodomised with his own nightstick – now seem faintly ludicrous. The Crimson Petal and the White (2011, directed by Marc Munden) Word of mouth made this sometimes shocking and unusual piece of sexually charged period drama a great success. Based on the best- selling book by Michel Faber, 198 Appendix 1 The Crimson Petal and the White was an uncompromising and explicit British television series with a stellar cast featuring Romola Garai as the prostitute Sugar, Chris O’Dowd, Richard E. Grant, Mark Gatiss and an unrecognisable Gillian Anderson. Directed by Marc Munden (of The Devil’s Whore and Conviction fame) and adapted by Lucinda Coxon, it presents a disturbing and unsettling vision of Victorian London. Deep End (1970, directed by Jerzy Skolimowski) Rarely seen since its original screenings and long overdue for reissue, Skolimowski’s erotic, surrealistic classic, with its bizarre, foreigner’s view of London, finally became more widely available in 2011 with a three- disc DVD release. It looks astonishing – although what the now pious Cat Stevens would make these days of the use of his songs in this frank study of sexual mores is open to question. Surreal and unsettling in its vision, with Munich largely standing in for London. Emmanuelle (1974, directed by Just Jaeckin) The most famous (and most often imitated) of all soft- core films features a 19- year- old woman (played by Sylvia Kristel) whose lengthy series of sexual interactions with both men and women are, according to the film, a path to her sexual liberation. The film is very obviously a series of realisations of male fantasies, and the subplot in which she is instructed in the ways of sex by an older man (played by Alain Cuny) is as creepy and unconvincing as such scenarios always are. Nevertheless, Kristel conveys in this film at least a rather winning mixture of naivety and subtle sexual allure; as a woman utterly at ease with her own body, she convinces throughout. The film’s original tagline was ‘X was never like this’, but it certainly was in the host of increasingly more desperate imitations and sequels that followed the original film. Grande École (2004, directed by Robert Salis) Sex, class and race collide at a French private school in Robert Salis’s powerful and moving drama, adapted from the stage play by Jean- Marie Besset. The film is set in an elite French educational institution, a ‘grande école’, where each year the government filters out students, particularly those from privileged backgrounds, to become the country’s future leaders. The story centres on Paul (Grégori Baquet), a new student embarking on his first term. Paul finds it hard to fit in with his bourgeois classmates, but becomes emotionally and sexually attracted to his handsome roommate Louis- Arnault (Jocelyn Quivrin). Although he tries to suppress his feelings, his long- term girlfriend Agnès becomes jealous and proposes a bet: whoever beds Louis- Arnault first wins. This is a passionate and erotic film that explores new sexual awakenings as well as a brave statement on the state of contemporary French schooling. Gwendoline (1984, directed by Just Jaeckin) For many years, this colourful (if superficial) version of the famous erotic comic strip was available only in a heavily cut, neutered form – the video issue, moreover, Appendix 1 199 was panned and scanned, totally destroying all the widescreen compositions. It was a small pleasure, therefore, when a wholly uncut widescreen DVD issue finally appeared. Admirers of good screen acting are unlikely to be impressed – the hilariously named Tawny Kitaen is delectable looking, but no actress, and there is a particularly charmless Indiana Jones- style hero – but the slightly desperate cocktail of sex and violence on offer here may be catnip to the aficionado. Hardcore (aka The Hardcore Life, 1979, directed by Paul Schrader) Opinions are mixed about the ideology behind this disturbing piece directed by Paul Schrader. Does Schrader disingenuously utilise the imagery of the porn subculture he ostensibly condemns – in other words, is he trying to have his cake and eat it? But whatever side of the argument you come down on, this is still a powerful, unflinching glimpse into the dark, bizarre world of the industry, with strongly etched performances from the ever- reliable George C. Scott and Peter Boyle. A rigid Calvinist minister (played in monolithic fashion by Scott) follows his teenage daughter to Los Angeles where he is horrified to find that she is in thrall to a vicious pimp.

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