"ARE YOU DANCING?". "ARE YOU ASKING?" "I'M ASKING." "THEN I'M DANCING."

It's a bit boring here with The Old Girl away in Christchurch. I don't catch up with her until late May.

As well, the weather up here has been atrocious. We had the big cyclone before Easter with poor weather afterwards and then "blow me down" (a little joke for Bagno there) another big storm over the ANZAC 'weekend'. While there was a lot of wind, this storm was mostly very heavy rain that caused flooding around the area.

Of course this has meant that I've been inside most of the time.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon I trawled through Netflix looking for a film to watch to pass the time. I was pleased to find Bertolucci's Last Tango In Paris which I saw when it first came out in the early 1970s. I saw the French version that wasn't dubbed nor had subtitles. It wasn't too much of a stretch at the time as I studied French at university and was quite good at it. 

The Netflix copy I started watching is also in French with no dubbing or subtitles. Nowadays my understanding of French is very limited, not having used it for twenty years. Watching the film is a struggle but, in a way, seeing it as intended does make me take more notice of the settings, film techniques and interaction between the actors. I made my way through about a third of the film and will revisit it over the next week or so. I tried to activate the subtitles function to no avail. I must be doing something wrong.

Last Tango In Paris is a controversial film due to the sex scenes, a theme of suicide and alienation, a rape scene and accusations from Maria Schneider of having been manipulated by Bertolucci and Brando. Brando also was unhappy with Bertolucci's actions and cut off his association with the film for decades.

It is a great film nevertheless - not in my opinion as great as Bertolucci's The Conformist but worthy of being given attention beyond just the sensationalism. Paris in the early 1970s is wonderful (I first experienced it in the early 1980s) and sets the theme of post-modern existential angst very well. It would be existentialism if it weren't so soulless. 

"Existentialisme? C'est moi"

The Conformist used Paris in the late 1930s as a backdrop to dysfunction, fascism and or course conformism. Bertolucci was a master of using places to define attitudes and influences.

I exhorted you readers some time ago to watch The Conformist. I wonder if you ever did? Here's a link: OUT OF SHALLOWS

I hope that I do get through watching the film in French even though I know that I'm missing things in the dialogue and narrative. I'm a lazy bugger though so might end up sorting out the sub-title setting.

Anyway, I 'exhort' you to see this film if you haven't already. It's Marlon Brando at his best. Maria Schneider is a lightweight but Bertolucci got a great performance out of her even if it brought him a lot of grief.