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My elder brother once said to me, "Andrew, don't ever see Salo". He was profoundly shocked by the film, as any thinking person will be who gives up 90 minutes of their time to Pasolini's unblinking stare at moral depravity. I would not have understood the film then. What struck me, watching it for the first time a few days ago, was not the violence and obscenity - I was prepared for that - but the evident distaste Pasolini shows for his subject matter. He plays the role of the war photographer whose images become the conscience of the world. This documentary style allows him to exercise discretion in presenting the most horrific images, which are mercifully brief. The final, harrowing scenes are viewed through the lenses of a pair of binoculars, which forces the viewer to peer closely in order to see the horrors on show. Thus the director cleverly draws us into his hellish nightmare world of power and abuse.

I did not find it exploitative: it is too painful for that. Nor is it, as some have said, cold and heartless. There is a very strong moral core to this film, and for me Pasolini clearly feels the pain and anguish of the abused teenagers. My strongest reaction was intense sadness at the awfulness of human beings. We know that these atrocities have happened in every age, whether in the name of lust, religion or politics, and that nothing shown in this film is too revolting to be plausible and possible. Therein lies the real shock. By forcing us to hold a mirror up to humankind's dark soul Pasolini has done the world a great service. That this film could have been banned in the UK and Australia is itself a tribute to its raw power.

Comments added after a second viewing: Ultimately, the message of the film is one of hope, though it is only hinted at. There are several moments of real tenderness and love which illuminate the darkness of the captor's world. It is very significant that Pasolini ends on a note of gentleness and affection.

It is a tragedy that this quite remarkable film remains virtually unknown and unobtainable. I have a VHS version that plays in B&W without subtitles. bought at the Alain-Fournier museum in France. It crops up at art houses as The Wanderer and may be obtainable on DVD under this name. It has never, to my knowledge, been shown on British television.

This film changed my life. The first time I saw it, back in about 1983, I sat through it twice in a row. I subsequently read the book, visited the locations in the film, all of them connected with the author, and wrote one of the several stage musicals based on the work.

What is most remarkable about the film is not just the visual intensity and dream-like camera-work - Vaseline on the lens for the strange domain itself - or the romantic and memorable score , but the quality of the performances from a largely unknown, in some cases amateur cast. Not only the luminous Brigitte Fossey, but a stunning performance from the young Alain Libolt, who appeared recently in Erich Rohmer's A Tale of Autumn. Meaulnes himself is unforgettably personified by a young man from Bourges hand-picked by the author's niece, Madame Isabelle Riviere, who oversaw the production. His name: Jean Blaise. He may to my knowledge have made only one film, but it is a performance that few trained actors could ever hope to equal. The final scenes are especially moving.

If you get a chance to see this, drop everything and go.

Andrew Lowe Watson