And for those who take exception to the non PC and violent elements, I guess if this is your first Tinto Brass movie you could be forgiven for being taken aback that this is not all silky hand upon silky thigh to the drone of some appalling musak. Something lost in translation there, I think. I suppose I understand the young couple who apparently picked up DVD of this film because it was described as an 'erotic thriller'. But it can be done sloppily, as here, or done with a bit of pith and a touch of poetry, as in "Belle de Jour." Bored wife lets stranger boff her in a toilet during a literary ball. There can't be TOO much wrong with it since it's formed the basis of about ten million pornographic novels and movies. Not that there's anything wrong with the fundamental template that the plot fills in. I can't really recommend it with any enthusiasm because it's not my fantasies, which run more along the lines of giant tubs of Allegro marinade and upright alligators doing grotesque gavottes. I guess this satisfies Tinto Brass's fantasies or, more likely, he believes he's found a winning formula for making movies and money at the same time. The movie isn't worth going on about but, let me see, there are scenes of not only nudity, but urination, douching over a bidet, frottage, cunnilingus, fellatio, anal intercourse, regular intercourse, threesomes, lesbianism, and - I'm trying to remember. It would only be a slight exaggeration to say that she has her clothes off as often as she has them on, so that we get to know pretty much every pore on her flamboyant body on a first-name basis.
She minces and jiggles and bounces and sways her hips from side to side in a way that no man could possibly imitate. (Nobody else's name matters.) She's the kind of caricature of desirable pulchritude that Anita Ekberg parodied in "La Dolce Vita." She's attractive, but in an entirely conventional way, no quirks, no individuality. A young woman has been married for only six months to her publisher husband and already she's bored with his love making, so she seeks stimulation elsewhere - in literature, in fantasies, in memories, and finally in the person of Leon, a tattooed French guy who turns out to be rough but satisfying trade. The plot, what there is of it, is unremarkable. One of them resembles something that should be found on a horse, or maybe an elephant. This film occupies a kind of no man's land between erotic comedies and straight pornography, only instead of shell craters, barbed wire, and corpses this particular no man's land is a demented milieu of luxurious beds, Rabalasian frescoes, and prosthetic penises.