by David Gurevich
With all the brouhaha The Last Tango in Paris caused almost thirty years ago, only now do we get the sense of how far ahead of its time Bertolucci’s film was. Only in the last few years, frustrated men who will not settle for a once-a-week sex routine have become de rigueur in French films (e.g., L’Ennui). Now this not-quite-New Wave, led by a French director Patrice Chereau (Queen Margot and Those Who Love Me Will Take the Train), has crossed La Manche and carved out a beachhead in England. I hope it will be repelled without the Royal Air Force getting involved.
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