last tango

i think i first saw 'last tango in paris' about 20 years ago. and i willingly admit the fact that i think i missed the point. the sex itself was not a shocker to me. i'd seen triple x films long before then. and i don't think i yet had the maturity required to really appreciate the meaning of 'last tango.' so i watched it again a couple of nights ago, and it brought me to tears by the end. like, heaving sobs. i was devastated by it. it might possibly be one of the saddest films i've ever seen... as well as one of the most brilliant. i think it goes without saying that when in was released in 1972 (the year i was born) it caused a scandalous sensation... both in the states, and overseas. directed by bernardo bertolucci, and starring marlon brando and the incredible maria schneider, it is a haunting tale of curiosity, introspection, regression, loss, personal discovery... and perhaps most importantly, control. notice i didn't mention sexuality? that is because i do not think the movie is about sex. sex is brilliantly implicated merely as a vehicle... it is the paint in which the deeper lessons are rendered and presented. so i popped the movie in, just planning to snatch some pretty shots, but it took hold of me and didn't let go. at several different points in the film, i identified with both schneider (jeanne), and brando. (paul.) they are, at different times, either cats or goldfish... entranced with one another in their respective personal habitats... gazing in amazement at one another... wanting lustfully for what the other one has and is... it is a crushing blow for each of them when they realize the truth. a cat and a goldfish can fall in love with eachother... but where are they going to live? if they decide to get close enough to really know eachother, one of them cannot survive. (click to enlarge)