The Duke of Burgundy

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 isn't a d/s film really as some say (more routinely known as bdsm but I shorten it to essentials). To my mind, that would be about someone who sheds control and truly gives herself over to another person. What we have instead is someone controlling a fantasy around her. This doesn't preclude it from being good of course but it's worth making the distinction between fetish as piece of theater and vital baring of soul.

But this reveals what the film is actually about and only disguised with erotica. It's about obsessive self, the self that tries to control life, shown as the real barrier that stands in the way of knowing intimacy, reducing life to theater. A petulant ego, as we go on to see, that only expects to be pleased and smothers the other, and the rituals, games, fictions it weaves that keep it from being there for the genuine exchange with another person that sex and love are both ways to manifest. In this way she explores neither herself nor her partner.

And I would go a step further. The big question in both loving intimacy with another person and making a film about it, or really any film that wants to probe the deepest recesses of self, is by what degrees to know and maintain distance, the distance as ambiguity that you honor by refusing to reduce. By what degrees to anticipate and remain open to spontaneity, lead or allow yourself to be led. You can trust that everyone from Tarkovsky to Lynch has mulled over this long and hard, how much to make known even to themselves.

Here there are two reversals of control (over the viewing experience). One in who controls the exchange, and a second about the fictional nature of the exchange. Their effect however is that they leave me with a rather thin reality of petulant abuser and her exasperated enabler. What I have revealed of this world makes me feel that it's not worth staying for.

But knowing his previous work, this is a filmmaker who wants to see with an eye that delves into space to know the feel and cares primarily for what creates visual fabrics. I have him on a short list of talent with the potential to be commanding our attention in the near future.

A very remarkable flow here delves between the woman's thighs, delves through her sex to the box that contains the skeletal remains of what used to be love, and through it to a forlorn walk in the woods that culminates with another box that is the girl swallowing her with suffocating desire.

So he has good intuitions, an eye that reminds me of Europe in the 70s. I hope he grows and takes the leap from being a Juraj Herz or more intelligent Franco into transcendent dreamworlds (as opposed to symbolic). But if he rests here, part of me will be happy all the same, the part of me that favors ethereal wandering. We don't get much of it anymore.

"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 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.

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.