Mainstream websites such as philly.com, the online division of the “Philadelphia Inquirer” describes The Duke of Burgundy as “a straight-faced homage to 1970s European erotica, full of soft-focus nudity and soft-core kink.” Stephen Rea, in his review of UK auteur Peter Strickland’s film goes on to mention Italian soft-core king Jesus Franco and America’s Radley Metzger as influences on Strickland’s art and calls Duke a throwback to “more innocent times, when actresses with exotic names would strip off their costumes while embracing far-fetched scenarios – and one another.”
Since I nurse tender feelings towards French film-maker Just Jaeckin’s original 1974 Emmanuelle and its leading lady, Sylvia Kristel, I decided to add it to my Netflix list.
Go deeper – to hard-core cinephile sites like cinema-scope.com – and the dedicated viewer will unearth more complex (conservative viewers may call depraved) meanings. Control is a dominant theme – as in Sun Choke – but expressed in a much more subtle manner. The narrative revolves around a May- September lesbian couple (Sidse Babbet Knudsen, Chiara d’Anna), their S & M roleplay and lepidoptery. (The film’s title refers to a type of butterfly.) There are film references and metaphors galore oozing just under the surface But what a lush and sensual surface it is (cinematography by Nic Knowland).
Since I have not engaged in S & M roleplay personally, some of the references flew by me on the first viewing. (So that’s why the character portrayed by Ms. Knudsen drinks so much water.) Ms. Knudsen’s CV, incidentally, includes TV’s Westworld, Borgen (a Danish political drama in which she plays Denmark’s Prime Minister!) and a small role (opposite Tom Hanks) in the film A Hologram for the King. Ms. d’Anna (a former geologist, according to “Rolling Stone”, who called the film “the kinkiest arthouse film of the year“) is the younger half of the duo. Both actresses play their roles in refreshingly natural fashion , as writer/director Strickland intended.
In the interview with cinema-scope. com’s Jose Teodoro, Mr. Strickland makes the remark ” …. I’m trying to embrace that disreputable or sleazy impulse, as the film we made clearly started as a Jess Franco tribute, though it ended up as something very different … ” You’ve been warned (or intrigued).
I have just read Alison Bechdel’s Are You My Mother? for the second time and I still do not completely understand it. (FYI: There is also a famed children’s book by P.D. Eastman and a CD by Kathryn Calder, keyboard player for Canuck indie rock heroes The New Pornographers, with the same title.)
I also read informed critiques by various reviewers and, for the most part, I didn’t understand them either (although I did like Guardian reviewer Laura Miller’s description of the cartoon character representing Ms. Bechdel as “a sort of lesbian Woody Allen, equally prone to seizure by doubt or by the giddy, centrifugal force of some idea.”)
On the back cover Gloria Steinem refers to the book as “a graphic novel”. The misnomer is understandable since the work is in the form of drawings and text. (Ms. Steinem invites us to imagine “a comic book by Virginia Woolf.”)
Actually, the correct term is “graphic memoir” since the contents are autobiographical. A “graphic novel” usually deals with fictional characters and situations. (Works like Art Spiegelman’s Pulitzer Prize winning Holocaust narrative Maus are based on fact and are in a class all of their own).
Graphic novelists are fond of claiming they can do things with narrative and character in a visual format that are impossible to portray using the mere printed word. Certainly that is true of Ms. Bechdel’s memoir. (I don’t think I could have gotten through the whole volume in traditional printed form – let alone perused it twice.)
Near as I can figure, the book is about Ms. Bechdel’s quest to untangle the roots of her complex relationship with her mother (still alive and active) and the effects of Mom’s peculiar parenting on her psyche as Alison transitioned from childhood to adulthood. The narrative skips back and forth in time, sorta like an Atom Egoyan film. The text is peppered with quotes from a variety of sources which provided succor to the author and helped to illuminate some of the more challenging passages in her inner journey.
Alison’s father, a closeted gay man who committed suicide, is the subject of an earlier book, Fun Home. Her mother stopped touching or kissing her daughter good night, when the author was seven years old, even though she lavished attention on Alison’s two younger brothers. In addition, Alison mentions she suffered from OCD as a young woman. Obviously, she has a lot of issues. (Her therapists also play pivotal roles in this real-life “comic drama”.)
Does her mother blame her daughter for her thwarted artistic ambitions? Good question. Mom married young and, shortly afterwards, became pregnant with Alison. (Mom channels her creative urges by acting in local plays and writing for the local newspaper but it isn’t enough. Examining some poems in The New Yorker magazine she says to her daughter “I could have done that … I could have gone on after I got my Master’s.”)
Parents often do not realize the awesome power they wield over their offspring. Even as an adult Ms. Bachdel is still trying to impress her mother. In one especially poignant passage Alison tells her mother she is having a book published. Mom is initially enthused (“Really? That’s fantastic!”) until she learns about the subject matter. (“I would love to see your name on a book but not on a book of lesbian cartoons.”) Later Alison writes in her journal,” I don’t know what I expected. I guess I was hoping vaguely that she would be happy anyhow. I really can’t expect that of her, I know, but I hadn’t quite steeled myself to cope with that. Silence between us; an emotional gulf, of which my lesbianism is only a minor inlet.”) Kind of reminds me of that Neil Gaiman quote (in Ocean at the End of the Lane) about “children wrapped in adult bodies”.
Each of the seven chapters in the book begin with a dream sequence. Ms. Bechdel has vivid dreams fairly rippling with symbolism. ( “I had the spiderweb dream two years after the one about the brook and immediately after starting to read Freud’s Interpretations of Dreams.“)
I was aware of Virginia Woolf (a former girlfriend was an avowed fan of her work) but I had never heard of poet and activist Adrienne Rich (and after seeing all of the awards she won in her lifetime I am properly embarrassed). Award-winning author Lawrence Wechsler (in a back cover blurb) describes Donald Winnicott, another literary figure mentioned prominently in Ms. Bechdel’s book, as “legendary”. Shows you how much I know about the subject. I had never heard of the noted psychoanalyst and pediatrician until I read Ms. Bechdel’s book. Or Alice Miller’s The Drama of a Gifted Child, another of Ms. B’s favorite books. (Let’s face it. The web is full of instant experts on every conceivable subject. But I figure if I can’t be upfront in my blog, where can I be honest?)
So why did I read the book twice if I didn’t “get” all of it? Well, for one thing, the narrative held my attention, the drawings were well-crafted and imaginative and, frankly, I liked Ms. Bechdel’s company. She’s like a friend you meet at the local coffeehouse. You don’t always understand what what she is saying (or identify with it) but you like her wit and you admire her intellect.
(Although my conscious mind was a little clouded by some of the text, my unconscious mind may have found it insightful and entertaining. Still no richly textured and metaphorical dreams, though.)
To find out more about the author and access some of her archived work try this link:
Gritty GINA GERSHON and voluptuous JENNIFER TILLY star in this wickedly stylishcaper about two lesbian lovers conspiring to outfox the mob out of $2 mil in cash.
This early effort (1996) from Matrix masterminds Andrew and Larry (now Lana) Wachowski is a clever spin on the time-tested “erotic thriller” genre.
The opening scenes between Ms. Gershon and Ms. Tilly sizzle with the kind of smart, sexy chatter that reminded me of that classic first meeting between Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck in Raymond Chandler’s screenplay for 1944`s Double Indemnity.
The Wachowskis come up some quirky camera moves and zap their screenplay liberally with dark wit.
Ms. Gershon and Ms. Tilly generate palpable heat in the lead roles and veteran character actor Joe Pantoliano gets in his licks, playing a trigger-happy hood, as the serpentine screenplay snakes its way to a bloody finale.
Extremely violent, hot and bothered, this one is not for the timid.