In Leigh Hunt's classic poem, "The Glove and the Lions", a noblewoman casts her glove into a lion's den and expects her brave knight to fetch it as a sign of love for her. He does but, when he returns, he flings it in her face. The King remarks that he has done the right thing: "No love, quoth he, but vanity, sets love a task like that." "Story of O", a classic in its own genre, explores the nature of love in a very different milieu but can be said to arrive at much the same conclusion. The men -- and, to be fair, the women -- in this film seem to define love as the willingness to be and do whatever the (male) lover wants, even if this involves suffering physical pain and sexual degradation. This definition of love curiously goes even further to include having sex with men the woman does not love, to please the man she does.
The tables are eventually turned as the story evolves, since O conquers the affections of Sir Stephen, who initially views women (including O) as no more important or valuable than a pebble found on the beach.
In the final scene, O asks Sir Stefan whether he would be willing to endure even a little of what she has suffered for his sake. It is safe to bet that the answer would be no.
"Story of O" embodies the worst possible stereotypes, not of only the inequality between women and men, but even of BDSM (bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, sadomasochism).
The women are always young and nubile, with firm, supple breasts and derrières, kept exposed and available for the pleasure of any man who wants them. This implies that "love" cannot accept anything less than perfection.
O is told several times that she can refuse to submit to the desires of her Master and others, and leave any time she wants. But, in reality, she has only one choice, the initial choice to become a slave. Once she has made that choice, she loses any claim to freedom and a will of her own. This may have been acceptable in an earlier era, but it is certainly contrary to the more modern philosophy of BDSM practitioners that such relationships must be "safe, sane, and consensual", and must be an exchange of power, not an imbalance.
"Story of O" is beautiful to look at, of course. Quite aside from the obvious charms of its female protagonist and her cohorts, there is the quaint rustic elegance of the manor of Roissy where O is kept, and the softly lit, almost air-brushed quality of the photography.
But, like the forbidden fruit of Eden, this lovely outward appearance conceals a pernicious poison: the false doctrine that love cannot be freely given, but only taken.
The tables are eventually turned as the story evolves, since O conquers the affections of Sir Stephen, who initially views women (including O) as no more important or valuable than a pebble found on the beach.
In the final scene, O asks Sir Stefan whether he would be willing to endure even a little of what she has suffered for his sake. It is safe to bet that the answer would be no.
"Story of O" embodies the worst possible stereotypes, not of only the inequality between women and men, but even of BDSM (bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, sadomasochism).
The women are always young and nubile, with firm, supple breasts and derrières, kept exposed and available for the pleasure of any man who wants them. This implies that "love" cannot accept anything less than perfection.
O is told several times that she can refuse to submit to the desires of her Master and others, and leave any time she wants. But, in reality, she has only one choice, the initial choice to become a slave. Once she has made that choice, she loses any claim to freedom and a will of her own. This may have been acceptable in an earlier era, but it is certainly contrary to the more modern philosophy of BDSM practitioners that such relationships must be "safe, sane, and consensual", and must be an exchange of power, not an imbalance.
"Story of O" is beautiful to look at, of course. Quite aside from the obvious charms of its female protagonist and her cohorts, there is the quaint rustic elegance of the manor of Roissy where O is kept, and the softly lit, almost air-brushed quality of the photography.
But, like the forbidden fruit of Eden, this lovely outward appearance conceals a pernicious poison: the false doctrine that love cannot be freely given, but only taken.