Word: tangoes
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...exciting as the stuff that has come out of post-war Poland. Anybody who's seen Akropolis, the film of Jerzy Grotowski's Polish Laboratory Theater, can bear me out on that. Slawomir Mrozek has already made his mark on modern theater with such widely produced plays as Tango and Police. Like many of his Polish contemporaries, he is preoccupied with the lessons of the Hitler regime. (Grotowski's actors, for instance, wear army fatigues no matter what play they are doing, while dismembered department-store mannequins and blood-stained clothing are common props in current Polish stage design...
...buyers, retailing executives and journalists turned up for the pret-a-porter (ready-to-wear) shows and found the usual mania. A tightrope walker equiliberated over the crowd jammed into the Commercial Stock Exchange, where a big show was taking place. At Designer Vicky Tiel's "New Tango in Paris" exhibit, dancing models plucked partners from the audience for a whirl around the floor. As always, the gendarmes had crowd-control problems. Amidst all the hoopla was a rather prosaic message: women buying Paris labels next fall will find many of them attached to familiar skirts and sweaters. Dresses...
THERE ARE FOUR erotic scenes in The Last Tango in Paris which are so much more honest than the rest of the film that they should be excised, and exhibited by themselves as masterful short subjects. When Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider screw standing up, or shove each other up the ass with various appendages, or play with tenderness in a bathtub scene, director Bernardo Bertolucci's only intent is to evoke passion, harsh, hot or loving --and his intention is fulfilled...
...such an embarassingly direct art as film is nothing to be sniffed at. And at a time when most enlightened filmmakers expend their energies on explicit violence, Bertolucci's attempt to explore the much more human warfare of sexuality is itself significant. The pre-opening reputation of The Last Tango, and the controversy which now surrounds it, should thus not be seen solely as the result of hucksterism...
...chain of random perversities (like Mother's loves for Father's boots). He does throw in a welcome parody of Godard and his films, all hollow Hollywood-loving childishness, abetted by the eternally adolescent actor Jean-Pierre Leaud. But even its welcome is soon worn out. And the last tango itself is pathetic: painted Fellini faces contort, and toothpick bodies sway on a dance floor as Paul tries to impress Jeanne at ringside with foreign accents and booze, and after a few drunken moves on the dance floor, flashes a moon at an irate dance judge...