In the opening scene, the beautiful O (Clery) and her lover (Kier) are together in the back seat, being driven down a luminous road to a place Rene has never taken O before. He orders her gently to remove everything she's wearing under her dress. The patchouli-scented voice of the narrator tells us, "Not knowing where they were going, O was afraid to ask questions." I had a couple of questions though. First, where do you find a woman like this? The second was, Why the hell didn't she ask? The wind up is that the beautiful O is taken into a castle where she vows never to look one of the many Masters in the eye or to speak unless told to. She must wear a garment that allows access to her body from just about every imaginable angle. She must subject herself to unspeakable indignities including chaining and whipping and blindfolding and who knows what all. I haven't gotten to the end yet. I don't know if I can handle it. In my heart, I firmly believe that no woman -- no human being -- should be so humiliated and tortured this way except my ex wife.
The book was a sensation and the movie, by Just Jaeckin, was an international hit, following hard upon the heels of "Emmanuelle" and preceding its many sequels, such as "Emmanuelle Meets The Seven Dwarfs." But it left me feeling the way I did after watching David Cronenberg's "Crash", about a cabal of cripples and perverts who get off on watching or participating in dreadful automobile accidents. The general sensation was one of having stumbled into someone else's wet dream.
Of course all of this is handled with great delicacy and nuance, and with many signals of import. The narration is elliptical. The musical score lacks only Kenny G. What dialog there is only fills us with wonder -- "She's proud; it sets me aflame." The photographer shot most of the film through a veil of Vaseline. The plot defiantly, stands logic on its head. The film strives desperately to convince us that this isn't garbage we're watching -- it's conneries.
Well, that gets the negative stuff out of the way. On the plus side, you have never seen such perfect, scintillating, nickel-plated chains. Also, the women aren't shaven clean all over. You can't tell about the men.
I can understand why this was such a scandalous film in 1975, with all the unashamed nudity and bondage. It took us on a Cook's Tour of sexual depravity, through caverns measureless to man. Today, with the internet awash in real perversions and and a diversity of real "O"s, the movie seems terribly dated, a historical curiosity. Not insulting, not carrying any evil baggage, but not much more than kitsch. If you want a more grounded and thoughtful movie about S&M, see "Secretary" with David Spader and Maggie Gylenhall.
The book was a sensation and the movie, by Just Jaeckin, was an international hit, following hard upon the heels of "Emmanuelle" and preceding its many sequels, such as "Emmanuelle Meets The Seven Dwarfs." But it left me feeling the way I did after watching David Cronenberg's "Crash", about a cabal of cripples and perverts who get off on watching or participating in dreadful automobile accidents. The general sensation was one of having stumbled into someone else's wet dream.
Of course all of this is handled with great delicacy and nuance, and with many signals of import. The narration is elliptical. The musical score lacks only Kenny G. What dialog there is only fills us with wonder -- "She's proud; it sets me aflame." The photographer shot most of the film through a veil of Vaseline. The plot defiantly, stands logic on its head. The film strives desperately to convince us that this isn't garbage we're watching -- it's conneries.
Well, that gets the negative stuff out of the way. On the plus side, you have never seen such perfect, scintillating, nickel-plated chains. Also, the women aren't shaven clean all over. You can't tell about the men.
I can understand why this was such a scandalous film in 1975, with all the unashamed nudity and bondage. It took us on a Cook's Tour of sexual depravity, through caverns measureless to man. Today, with the internet awash in real perversions and and a diversity of real "O"s, the movie seems terribly dated, a historical curiosity. Not insulting, not carrying any evil baggage, but not much more than kitsch. If you want a more grounded and thoughtful movie about S&M, see "Secretary" with David Spader and Maggie Gylenhall.