manuel-pestalozzi

This movie is so bad, it is fascinating. It starts out very promising, I was expecting an intrigue on the scale of a David Mamet script. In the end it turns out to be a kind of an anti-feminist phantasy by the author who is world famous for having written some really good stuff. It is basically about a beautiful and smart woman who is not as smart as she thought she was. And about Arabs and the Middle East. But it takes a long time and a lot of senseless dialogue until they get to the point. All the surprises fall flat and there is little suspense. I feel sorry for the cast which is certainly not to blame for this mess.

This movie has a high artistic quality. It was filmed by experienced veteran Ted McCord in the typical clinically clean black and white-style of the era. The main setting is an elegant house in the sun drenched hills of Los Angeles - and the location is very well used indeed. The bright setting is sharply contrasted by sexual frustration. The main character seems to be a piece of decoration for her husband, a successful, mainly absent businessman. Her constant stereotype Pepsodent smile renders her somewhat subhuman - well a part of the property. Yet she has a yearning which is unfulfilled. At one point she pulls a broad black belt around her neck, pulls it tight and lies down on the bed. Her lonelyness is relieved by two doubtful characters, one of them a young Warren Oates. Very well filmed underwater swimming pool scenes at the dramatic climax at the end.