Letras prohibidas, la leyenda del Marqués de Sade

It's post-revolutionary France. Napoleon is in power. The Age of Enlightenment is in full swing, yet the remnants of the Dark Ages still linger to restrain the thinking of many a powerful monarch, religious leader and rank-and-file common citizen. In all areas of life, the barriers to freedom and self-expression are rapidly giving way, leaving traditional institutions and values fighting for their very survival. And this includes that most sensitive of all areas, the one that has, perhaps, caused more consternation for the race than any other in our history – determining the role that sexuality plays in defining who we are physically, emotionally and spiritually. Long thought of as little more than a necessary evil, sexuality is suddenly starting to be reexamined in the light of other scientific and academic reassessments. Small wonder that at such a crucial moment in mankind's sexual awakening, a figure like the Marquis De Sade would emerge, a man whose name has since become synonymous with perversion, deviancy and licentiousness. It is this epic struggle between religion and nature for the soul of humanity that Philip Kaufman captures so brilliantly in his wickedly perverse, mordantly witty and brilliantly acted film, `Quills.'

Director Kaufman, working from a screenplay by Doug Wright (based on his play of the same name), chooses to start his tale almost at its end – at the period when De Sade was already wasting away in an insane asylum, considered too perverted and dangerous in his ideas to be allowed to run loose among the general populace. Yet, it's hard to keep a creative genius down – and De Sade has, unbeknownst to the priest who runs the facility, been regularly smuggling out manuscripts to publishers on the outside, much to the chagrin and delight of many elements of the French public. One of those least amused is Napoleon himself, who decides that he must take action in silencing this reprobate once and for all. He decides to send a `specialist' in mental health – one Dr. Royer-Collard, a man more in tune with the techniques of the Spanish Inquisition than of modern medicine – to take charge and bring De Sade to his senses. Wright's and Kaufman's other two main characters include the priest, The Abbe du Coulmier, who is keeper of the institution, and Madeleine LeClerc, a beautiful young devotee of De Sade's work who serves both as laundress and chief smuggler for the author and his works.

In many ways, the most interesting conflict turns out to be the one between De Sade and the Abbe, two men seemingly antipodes apart yet somehow able to find a common ground of mutual respect and understanding. On the one hand, we have a man who has completely thrown away all sexual inhibitions and indeed lives to not only experience every possible sexual pleasure but to encourage others to do so as well. On the other hand, we have a man who has chosen a life of chastity and celibacy, opting to completely shut down the sexual aspect of his life as a pious sublimation to God – and yet neither extreme seems normal, healthy or practicable. In fact, near the end, De Sade suffers the torment of realizing that someone he cares for very deeply has become a tragic victim of one of his `ideas' run amuck, just as the Abbe, after years of repression, finds himself inching ever closer to the insanity that he is supposed to be curing in others.

Interestingly, the Abbe, the representative of the church that held the world in the grip of the Dark Ages for so long, is actually a beacon of enlightened reason compared to Dr. Royer-Collard, the self-ascribed `Man of Science.' Here is an individual actually aligned with the Church's Medieval methods, inflicting any form of excruciating physical and psychological torture on his patients to achieve their ultimate `cure' – though we can see by the way he subtly abuses his own sixteen year old wife that `power' is, as always, the world's strongest aphrodisiac.

Special not must be taken of the superb performances by Geoffrey Rush, Joaquin Phoenix, Michael Caine and Kate Winslet. Each does a superb job in bringing these diverse and complex characters to vivid life.

In terms of art direction, costume design and cinematography, the filmmakers do a fantastic job in recreating this strange world of the past - capturing that startling admixture of piety and licentiousness that bespeaks the `dual nature in Man,' which has forever served as the basis for the epic struggle between religion and nature. In a world like the one we live in now - in which explicit pornography has found a comfortable and, indeed, quite lucrative niche - De Sade seems ever more a man ahead of his time. It was his misfortune to be born into a world not quite ready to accept the ideas he had to offer. Yet, had he been living in this century, perhaps we would never even have heard of the name De Sade at all. Perhaps he would be just another anonymous pornographer, using the camera rather than the written word to graphically illustrate his darkest sexual longings. Then again, who knows? Perhaps it would be he who founded a world famous magazine and set up a mansion dedicated solely to the propagation of male sexual pleasure. It is, in the face of `Quills,' a thought worth pondering.

As someone who doesn't know too much about the Marquis De Sade, I guess that I'll have to rely on "Quills". Played by Geoffrey Rush, De Sade comes across as sort of a misunderstood man with a perverted mind. Of course, if he was a "pervert", then one might interpret him as the bane of society. Certainly here he's the bane of the people running the mental institution. Even if he's just a "pervert", then he's not the only one: watch what the Abbe du Coulmier (Joaquin Phoenix) does to Madeleine LeClerc (Kate Winslet) in one scene.

Overall, I don't know how accurate this movie is, but you're sure to like it nonetheless. Don't blame Geoffrey Rush if you feel a little sadistic after watching it.

Quills is a delightfully unsettling account of the demise of the Marquis de Sade and those he brings down with him. The film presents viewers with all the evidence they need to identify the fallacies of society's separation of "good" from "evil" and "moralists" from "sinners." It subtly asserts that the values traditionally used to pass judgment are compromised by convention and religion, and that there is moral danger in accepting these values without question.

During the film, one form of sin is only replaced by another, which defeats its resistors and beguiles the rest by hiding behind a pretentious shroud of religion and convention.

Viewers are horrified to discover that they can actually identify with the marquis, whose name inspired the word "sadist" to describe those who derive sexual pleasure from violence. Most viewers' senses of morality are sullied by the realization that they are hanging on every twist of the plot, desperate to know what will next beset these wretched characters.

Based on historical fact, Quills catches up with the Marquis (Geoffrey Rush) during the twilight of his life, when he has already been sentenced to life imprisonment in the Charenton Asylum. No longer able to pursue the perverse sexual escapades that had landed him in the madhouse after decades of unspeakable offenses, he now purges his demons by writing. At the urging of the saintly, ever-tolerant and even-tempered Abbe Coulmier (Joaquin Phoenix), the marquis describes his imagination's disturbing scenes on paper.

Trouble arises when one of his books, smuggled to a publisher by a sympathetic admirer - innocent laundry maid Madeleine (Kate Winslet) - catch the disapproving eye of Emperor Napoleon.

There is no escape from sin when the man sent to purify the Charenton, Dr. Royer-Collard (Michael Caine), only seeks to replace it with intolerance and unimaginable cruelty.

True to the spirit of the film, the sets are imbued befittingly with gloom and grime, and the inhabitants of the Charenton are realistically ragged.

Rush and Winslet's performances as the marquis and Madeleine are stunning. The film's delicious impropriety is heightened by their chemistry, which is so potent as to be communicable to viewers.

The super-intelligent plot is unexpectedly circular, leaving viewers feeling as though they may well be next in line for the madness bred at the Charenton. Their fears are seemingly verified by he change they know the film has already inspired in them.

Far from resolutive, the only solace the ending holds for viewers is a sense of, "Aha, now I know," and a new way to evaluate the good in evil in themselves and others.

The Marquis de Sade (Geoffrey Rush) is locked up in the Charenton Insane Asylum run by Abbé du Coulmier (Joaquin Phoenix). Laundress Madeline LeClerc (Kate Winslet) falls for the lascivious Marquis de Sade and helps him smuggle out his writings. Emperor Napoléon Bonaparte wants him stopped and sends Dr. Royer-Collard (Michael Caine) with his tortuous treatments. Royer-Collard marries the young Simone (Amelia Warner) who lived in a convent.

Geoffrey Rush is absolutely brilliant as the Marquis de Sade. The acting in this is first rate. I wish Rush get more screen time as the lead character. He's nominated for the Oscar as lead actor but he's more as one of the cast. Royer-Collard's hypocrisy is interesting but the movie spends a little too much time on him. I would rather the movie stay with Geoffrey Rush from start to finish and more Kate Winslet.

Quills is the modernized story of the Marquis de Sade, whose steamy writings whipped France into a sexual fury in the late 18th Century. And by modernized I mean that it has been told through the experiences of a lot of French people who speak English and with British accents. But no matter, I'm willing to accept that everyone in France in 1800 spoke perfect British even if only because of Geoffrey Rush's brilliant performance. With every movie that he comes out with I become more and more convinced that there is nothing he can't do.

In order to know virtue, as the Marquis explains, one must first understand vice. In Philip Kaufman's Quills, the focus is on the Marquis de Sade after his writing has taken him beyond the artistic freedom generally accepted in the 18th and 19th centuries, even to elite aristocracy like himself. It is a detailed exploration of the events that led from him being a social elitist to living almost three decades in prison, writing things that caused his keepers to make it so difficult for him to write that he ultimately uses his own blood and excrement for ink, and his clothing, the walls of his cell, and his own skin as parchment.

Luckily for the Marquis, at first anyway, is that there is something of an understanding priest in the Abbe du Coulmier, another wonderful performance from Joaquin Phoenix. An intensely religious man, Coulmier believes that the Marquis should be allowed to write, if only to purge himself of the sadism with which his head is filled and which would later be named after him.

Kate Winslet plays Madeleine, a laundry maid who smuggles the Marquis' writing out of the asylum so that it can be published, for which many people are not happy, but many others are. The Marquis dips into the extensive world of the forbidden sexual taboos of the 18th and 19th centuries, writing extensively about them without a care in the world for propriety. One may wonder to what extent the Marquis' writings were such a hit because they were forbidden, or because of their lewd content, which may euphemistically be described as guilty pleasures for the masses. Indeed, Larry Flynt was not working, so graphic pornography was something of a rarity.

There is a curious relationship between the Marquis and a physician named Royer-Collard, played by Michael Caine, who is assigned to law down the law with the Marquis and prevent him from writing anymore. The glee with which the Marquis mocks and taunts him are some of the best parts of this outstanding film. There is a great parallel between the two characters, as well. Royer-Collard pretends to be a moral role model, at the same time taking a wife who is young enough to be his daughter, possibly even his granddaughter, and treats the Marquis with exactly the same sadistic (if I can again use the term for the behavior for which the Marquis would later be named) behavior that he condemns that Marquis for writing about. Both men engage in many of the same practices, it's just that the Marquis makes no attempt and has no interest in hiding his interests in the pleasures of the flesh.

I think that the most important thing to remember about this movie is that it is able to deal with a person who's beliefs are, I like to think, below the moral compasses of most of the people who will watch the movie, but it's not about what he was writing, it's about the fact that he was writing at all. It's about his defiance in the face of a corrupt moral authority, his insistence on maintaining an artistic expression that was not well received but that was certainly therapeutic to him. Sure, his sanity is in question, to say the least, but as they say, genius is often associated with madness.

What a great coincidence, too, because so is Geoffrey Rush.