The excellence of the photography saves this film from utter failure. The camera ever so slowly roams along the elegant body of a beautiful woman, first while she is being heavily smothered in oil and massaged by her female friend and later, delicately sponged from head to toe with a soapy sponge. These are supposed to be titillating moments, and should be, but there is little warmth, little reaction, and fails to inspire.
The film to me seems unfinished, perhaps a fragment of something greater. It leaves me with a feeling of emptiness like the lives of the two women depicted.
There is virtually no story in the 30 minute offering. Two women escape to the mountains where they enjoy each others company, apparently disappointed with their male partners.
The so-called sensual scenes are interspersed with frolicking about on a trampoline and chasing galloping horses, and should I mention the constant arrival of messages on a big fax machine. Oh dear, what next?
A strange mixture this one. Happily the film is short.
The film to me seems unfinished, perhaps a fragment of something greater. It leaves me with a feeling of emptiness like the lives of the two women depicted.
There is virtually no story in the 30 minute offering. Two women escape to the mountains where they enjoy each others company, apparently disappointed with their male partners.
The so-called sensual scenes are interspersed with frolicking about on a trampoline and chasing galloping horses, and should I mention the constant arrival of messages on a big fax machine. Oh dear, what next?
A strange mixture this one. Happily the film is short.