Romance (18.)
Directed by Catherine Breillat. 1999.
Starring Caroline Ducey, Sagamore Stevenin, Francois Berleand and Rocco Siffredi. In French with subtitles. 95 mins. Released on Blu-ray by Second Sight.
Romance is both a provocative look at female sexuality and proof that the French can talk the fun out of everything. When it came out fifteen years ago this sexually explicit story of a woman trying to come to terms with love and sexuality seemed to touch on some awkward truths and insights about female sexuality and though its loquacious pretentiousness can drive you up the wall, there's still something of merit in it. It gets you halfway there: it is semi-involving, semi-ridiculous, semi-arousing, semi-tedious and semi-intriguing.
Marie (Ducey) is in love with a man (Stevenin) who refuses to have any sexual relations with her. His reasons for this seem to be pure Gallic contrariness. Marie is like a strident doormat – she is pathetically fixated with this man who reads Bukowski while eating alone in sushi restaurants, but independent enough to seek physical satisfaction elsewhere, initially with a barroom pick up played by porn star Siffredi.
The film is sexually explicit. The BBFC tends to feel that any kind of erection, flap shot or intercourse is allowable as long as there are some subtitles there to discourage the hoi-polloi. Those approaching it from the mucky film angle should be assured that there are some explicit shots of genitalia, some fellatio and, possibly, some on screen intercourse. It isn't really erotic, but it is exciting and essential to the film. Though you may pretend otherwise it is difficult not to respond a little bit to the edginess of seeing the pornographic uprooted from its normal habitat into a “proper” film. It is a little trite to say so, but the commitment shown by the actors does give it a force and power it wouldn't otherwise have.
I'm not sure I agree with the BBFC stance that subtitles are automatic erection dampeners but I'd guess Marie's maddeningly pretentious narration would crush any tumescent urges. Breillat's dialogue contains numerous self consciously provocative lines - “The only way to be loved by women is through rape,” “Maybe I really wanted to be loved by Jack The Ripper” - but fritters away any insight it comes across by overstating it.
What saves it is humour. Francois Berleand plays an anally retentive Casanova figure. He goes about seduction with a trainspotter's dogged devotion, claims to have slept with 10,000 women and has probably written down each one in his little notebook. He just keeps repeating how although he's not great looking he knows how to talk to women and to listen to them. He's also into bondage, but is really finicky about the knots. Towards the end Breillat pulls off a couple of surreal moments worthy of Bunuel. The best joke though is to climax a film that has played with male fascination with the gynecological, with a scene of childbirth.
Directed by Catherine Breillat. 1999.
Starring Caroline Ducey, Sagamore Stevenin, Francois Berleand and Rocco Siffredi. In French with subtitles. 95 mins. Released on Blu-ray by Second Sight.
Romance is both a provocative look at female sexuality and proof that the French can talk the fun out of everything. When it came out fifteen years ago this sexually explicit story of a woman trying to come to terms with love and sexuality seemed to touch on some awkward truths and insights about female sexuality and though its loquacious pretentiousness can drive you up the wall, there's still something of merit in it. It gets you halfway there: it is semi-involving, semi-ridiculous, semi-arousing, semi-tedious and semi-intriguing.
Marie (Ducey) is in love with a man (Stevenin) who refuses to have any sexual relations with her. His reasons for this seem to be pure Gallic contrariness. Marie is like a strident doormat – she is pathetically fixated with this man who reads Bukowski while eating alone in sushi restaurants, but independent enough to seek physical satisfaction elsewhere, initially with a barroom pick up played by porn star Siffredi.
The film is sexually explicit. The BBFC tends to feel that any kind of erection, flap shot or intercourse is allowable as long as there are some subtitles there to discourage the hoi-polloi. Those approaching it from the mucky film angle should be assured that there are some explicit shots of genitalia, some fellatio and, possibly, some on screen intercourse. It isn't really erotic, but it is exciting and essential to the film. Though you may pretend otherwise it is difficult not to respond a little bit to the edginess of seeing the pornographic uprooted from its normal habitat into a “proper” film. It is a little trite to say so, but the commitment shown by the actors does give it a force and power it wouldn't otherwise have.
I'm not sure I agree with the BBFC stance that subtitles are automatic erection dampeners but I'd guess Marie's maddeningly pretentious narration would crush any tumescent urges. Breillat's dialogue contains numerous self consciously provocative lines - “The only way to be loved by women is through rape,” “Maybe I really wanted to be loved by Jack The Ripper” - but fritters away any insight it comes across by overstating it.
What saves it is humour. Francois Berleand plays an anally retentive Casanova figure. He goes about seduction with a trainspotter's dogged devotion, claims to have slept with 10,000 women and has probably written down each one in his little notebook. He just keeps repeating how although he's not great looking he knows how to talk to women and to listen to them. He's also into bondage, but is really finicky about the knots. Towards the end Breillat pulls off a couple of surreal moments worthy of Bunuel. The best joke though is to climax a film that has played with male fascination with the gynecological, with a scene of childbirth.
