Ars amandi is the kind of film that tantalizes with the promise of forbidden pleasures and classical decadence, yet delivers mostly a muddled, meandering spectacle that rarely rises above the level of curiosity. The atmosphere is, at best, uneven - at times striving for the lush sensuality of ancient Rome, but more often succumbing to a sense of artificiality and detachment. The sets are sparse, and the props feel oddly cheap, never quite conjuring the grandeur or grit of the era. Instead of immersing the viewer in a world of intrigue and desire, the film's visual language frequently reminds us of its own limitations, with choppy editing and awkwardly staged scenes that break any spell it tries to cast.
Cinematographically, the film oscillates between moments of genuine beauty and stretches of uninspired, even amateurish, composition. Marina Pierro, as Claudia, is certainly the camera's favored subject, often photographed with an almost painterly devotion that highlights her striking presence. These vignettes are among the film's few visual highlights, but they are undermined by shaky camerawork and inconsistent lighting elsewhere. The much-touted Roman orgy sequence, restored in this version, is disappointingly brief and poorly shot, lacking both the sensuality and spectacle one might expect from Borowczyk's reputation.
The cast does what it can with the material, but few performances leave a lasting impression. Marina Pierro brings a certain enigmatic allure to Claudia, making her the film's most memorable figure, though even she cannot transcend the stilted dialogue and erratic direction. Massimo Girotti, as Ovid, spends much of the film delivering ponderous monologues that quickly wear out their welcome, while Michele Placido and the rest of the ensemble struggle to inject life into characters who barely exist as individuals. The English dub only exacerbates matters, with mismatched voices and flat delivery that sap the drama of any real emotion or urgency.
Ultimately, Ars amandi feels less like a cohesive narrative than a patchwork of loosely connected erotic tableaux, some of which border on the bizarre for its own sake. The film's attempts at humor and surrealism fall flat, and the pacing is so languid that its brief runtime feels much longer. There are flashes of visual interest and moments of unintended camp, but these are not enough to save the film from its own tedium.
