The Duke of Burgundy

Peter Strickland is a film maker who likes to do things differently – his last feature 'Berberian Sound Studio' will mean you will never look at a vegetable the same way again. Here he takes on the theme of a sadomasochistic, lesbian relationship to examine how we all depend on each other and the inter dependencies that can occur to make relationships work. At the heart are two lovers Cynthia and Evelyn who seem to be in a very one sided relationship – one being mistress and one being badly used servant.

They are also both entomologists and give talks on moths and butterflies – the title 'The Duke of Burgundy' is an actual butterfly orange and brown in colour and found in Europe and mostly Southern Britain. The moths also act as a metaphor in the case of being 'drawn to a flame' scenario; but also the many butterflies pinned and mounted that occur throughout the film reflect the love/abuse relationship in that the very beauty that attracts some people cause them to act in cruel way to the object of desire.

This is not 'Fifty Shades of Grey' the sex is all tastefully done off screen. It is also exceptionally beautifully filmed – in Hungary as it turns out. The attention to style and miniscule details is almost obsessive and worth every effort in terms of rewards for the viewer. It is though about relationships and what we will do for each other – even if it goes against our own particular grain. This is a film for those who appreciate art-house but like it to have one foot in realism (at least) and as such is one I both enjoyed and can easily recommend.

Forget 9 1/2 Weeks, forget Last Tango in Paris, forget Secretary and most definitely forget 50 Shades, this is THE definitive cinematic essay on a dom/sub relationship.

The idea is a fascinating and brave one: to create an homage to artistic elements of the "disreputable" sexploitation movies of the 1970s and make it beautiful and profound. It's another movie that full of references to other movies and to the movie-making process. I recognised only little hints of Just Jaekin, being unfamiliar with the other influences. I did spot the marker tape on the carpet that serve two purposes, practical and metaphorical. Er.. three, there are two metaphors going on, I think, one plot-related and one post- modern commentary.

Talking of plot, it is so slight that it could be explained in three sentences. I won't, obviously, but honestly it wouldn't matter if I did. What matters is the manner of the telling.

The story inhabits a strange dream-like space where everyone in the town is a fetishistic female entomologist! (If anyone can explain the significance of the entomology, please do, I'm all ears!) But within the unreal external world, the two heroines inhabit an emotional world that is utterly believable.

In sumptuous but slightly muted autumn colours, the film looks gorgeous. I found it sensual, very erotic (despite there being no more than a few seconds of anything you could call "sex" and no nudity at all), emotionally engaging, warm, sad, funny and REAL.

Although the story deals exclusively with dominance and submission (no trace of S&M despite what it says in all the publicity, including in interviews with the director) it is a universal story about conflicting desires, fantasies, trust and compromise. In some way, it is a story for every relationship.

I absolutely loved this film.

This film offers astonishing photography: soap bubbles look like iridescent lobes, butterflies and moths are presented like stunning neorealist paintings-the pigment scales on wings, delicate antennae, infinitesimal hairs are all rendered with clarity that will elicit gasps. There is also a series of images that morph from one of the protagonists into a cloud of fluttering butterflies of variegated hues segueing into what might be the greatest montage ever edited. Super closeups of wings flash at increasing speed, leaving the viewer overwhelmed by beauty. Complimenting the superb entomological photography are sweeping shots of lush gardens and vine covered chateau walls. We're this not enough, the interiors in soft intimate lighting would earn due praise.

And praise the film has garnered with many top critics assigning The Duke of Burgundy perfect scores. Yet with the feast of visual delights the film serves a story that is as dull as a tarnished penny. The lesbian couple repeat a kind of ritualized dominant and submissive behavior scene after scene with scant variation. The encounters are separated by repetitious scenes of entomology lectures.

The only portion of this movie that breaks the wearying dreary repetition is a visit to a woman who crafts fetish devices. This breaks the monotony, but it's difficult not to laugh during an exchange. When the submissive partner is disappointed to exasperation at learning that the equipment she desires cannot be fabricated in time for her birthday, an alternative is suggested. The character flashes with delight of the substitution: "how about human toilet?" The sensual scenes are my no measure engaging or erotic. Sure, the filmmaker is presenting the subject in a manner that forbids prurient interest. But it's difficult to think of a film in which the physical expression of affection is so boring. The relationship is static until the very end when one of the women becomes overwrought for reasons that the audience is unable to divine.

The exhilarating beauty of the photography serves to point up the colorless plot.

"The Duke Of Burgundy" was a fictional pub in the classic Ealing comedy Passport To Pimlico (1949). It also happens to be the name of a certain species of butterfly found only in England. Far from a film about a friendly neighbourhood pub, or an educational chat with David Attenborough, the 2014 incarnation of The Duke Of Burgundy is encased within a potent atmosphere of unease, sexual tension, twisted eroticism and dark humour. Much like viewing a case of mounted butterflies, we watch the action unfold. Visuals are more important than words. This is a truly cinematic experience that demands its audience closely observe everything before its eyes. The butterfly metaphor may be overused - having been exploited in The Collector (1965) and in The Smiths lyric "You can pin and mount me like a butterfly" - however, it is revisited to great effect in this film.

The film observes the daily routine of Cynthia (Sidse Babett Knudsen) and Evelyn (Chiara D'Anna). Much like insects pinned down and encased under glass, we observe them trapped in a provocative routine that starts with punishment and pleasure and ends with a crumbling emotional facade. As Cynthia yearns for a more conventional relationship, Evelyn's obsession with erotic role-playing threatens to push the two apart.

The Duke of Burgundy is a unique voyeuristic experience courtesy of Peter Strickland, the award winning writer and director of Berberian Sound Studio and Katalin Varga. Much like Berberian Sound Studio, he returns us to the European cult movies of the 1970's. It's refreshing to note that while many recent directors seem to be emulating the crowd-pleasing visuals of The Wachowskis, Lynch, Tarantino or Snyder, Strickland is enthralled with Dario Argento, Lucio Fulci, Jess Franco and Sergio Martino - with a pinch of Bergman. To a certain degree, Strickland's themes and visuals may also owe a debt to lesser known Euro-cult gems like Baby Yaga and Daughters of Darkness.

Anyone who's familiar with The Duke of Burgundy's cinematic lineage knows how essential a good soundtrack is. Many of the original giallo and Euro-sleaze films where soundtracked by the likes of Ennio Morricone, Bruno Nicolai and Goblin. The Duke of Burgundy benefits greatly from a soundtrack by Cat's Eyes, an alternative pop duo featuring vocalist Faris Badwan - of English indie rock band The Horrors - and Italian-Canadian soprano, composer and multi-instrumentalist Rachel Zeffira (sounding rather like Lynch favourite Julie Cruise). Having played their first ever gig in St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican, during an afternoon mass "attended by seven high-ranking cardinals", the duo are the perfect choice to compliment Strickland's retro Italo-thriller imagery. The opening credit sequence is an especially good mix of sound and image recalling the era perfectly.

If the overtly commercial eroticism of Fifty Shades of Grey leaves you cold, then head down to The Duke of Burgundy and drink in its intoxicating brew of dark, atmospheric erotica.

This is frustrating because I felt like I had so much to say about the film as it was going on but now I can't find the words. The directing here is spellbinding. That is really the one word to describe it. It's so sensual and seductive, so enigmatic and impenetrable. The directing transforms everything else around it. Sidse Babett Knudsen is also absolutely spectacular. Throughout most of it she carries the film with just her face, and that's all she needs to make us understand. She deserves awards attention, for sure.

Unfortunately, when I said that the directing was spellbinding, it is... but there's a certain disconnect between it and the screenplay. Thematically, the film is strong (sort of), but narratively, it's also incredibly repetitive and drawn out. No doubt Strickland's direction strengthens the film quite a lot, as does Knudsen, and while visually there are so many things to marvel at, the direction almost gets away with hiding its flaws... almost. When the film isn't drawing out its inevitable conclusion (which, in terms of the last shot, was completely predictable) it sort of feels oddly melodramatic (without ever really going big) and sort of soapy. I enjoyed the film, no doubt, but the longer it went on the bigger a disconnect I felt between its various aspects. Still, I see this getting a lot of passionate fans (and dissenters) from both sides. I'm definitely in the positive side, although it really deserved to be so much better as a whole