Last Tango in ParisAll of life's vices--sex, rage, alcohol, and so on--are ways that we escape the pain of our emotions, the utter terror of facing our demons driving us over the edge. Last Tango in Paris is an erotic drama about two people seeking something missing in their lives, and then not really finding it with each other. There is Paul (Marlon Brando), a grief-stricken widower who is left with managing a rundown hotel after his wife kills herself. And there is Jeanne (Maria Schneider), a young woman having an existential crisis while on the verge of marrying her fiance. While Paul and Jeanne are together in the decrepit apartment where they convene for their illicit affair, there is no other world--there isn't even Paul and Jeanne.
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When Last Tango in Paris released in 1972, it quickly gained notoriety for several intense and even forceful sex scenes. Even those who had not seen the film angrily protested it, and decried it as perverse and pornographic--a response that seems excessive almost a half a century later, with far more mature content readily available elsewhere. Is Last Tango in Paris shocking? Yes, but for reasons beyond mere nudity, coarse language, or simulated intercourse. Last Tango in Paris is really about a soulful search for some profound truth and understanding by the two protagonists, who use their sexual affair as means to avoid acknowledging their feelings--most evident in Paul, but also in the reasons Jeanne seeks an older lover. From the first, Paul is on the verge of tears--haggard and worn as his clothing, as though he has been walking the streets of Paris all night following the suicide of his wife, Rosa (Veronica Lazar). Jeanne passes right by him, with an allure both innocent and wanton, a paradox of sexual desire. In her knee-high leather boots and fur-trimmed coat, she could be a model or a prostitute. Her manner is innocent--even naive--when she asks the apartment manager to see the room. This is where she encounters Paul for the first time, who somehow obtained the key for himself; he lurks in the shadows, as if he were always waiting for Jeanne. Their first meeting is tense, as it might be with two strangers alone in an unfamiliar apartment--Paul is a predator, and Jeanne is the prey. He slides up alongside her, and begins caressing her; surprisingly, she doesn't resist and invites his advances. Their first liaison is raw and unbridled and their lust is animal, as if each were trying to fill some void within themselves. They do not exchange phone numbers...they don't even exchange names, but not long after, they repeat their rendezvous again and again. Paul insists that they exile their personal lives while in the apartment, as if it were a sanctuary from the outside world, where only mindless passion exists, while the precocious Jeanne tries to pry open his hard, defensive shell. A scene where Paul reunites with his late wife's mother involves him slamming doors in his room at the hotel, representing the metaphorical doors in his life he wishes he could close to shut out the pain of his loss. He hides behind cynicism and brutal behavior to mask his suffering. Paul is a passionate man, but unresolved passions can escalate into fury and anger--and as they say, "hurt people hurt people". Paul debases Jeanne in more than one of their encounters, including a notorious scene involving a stick of butter. As unsavory as these moments are, they speak to Paul's torment and how he craves sympathy, even if it means inflicting suffering on another, like Jeanne. This is most apparent when Paul delivers his confession to the corpse of his late wife. It is a harrowing scene, where shadows hold dominion and where his sardonic pretense cracks open, the dam holding back the reservoir of tears flooding forth. His soul is bared, as naked as Jeanne is when she languishes in the apartment--his mask of hate fallen away and all of the pain has returned.
While Paul is terrified of emotional intimacy, Jeanne seems starved for it. Her fiance, Tom (Jean-Pierre Léaud), is an amateur filmmaker, who is making a film ostensibly about Jeanne and her childhood, and their love for one another. But it is evident from the time that they are reunited at the train station that Tom is vain and pompous, more concerned with simulating love for the camera than real passion. He is "passionate" about his craft, but is unconvincing as Jeanne's lover. Jeanne has an urge to be known; she is not vain, but she relishes her past and, like Paul, wants to be understood. She recalls fond memories of her family homestead, and of her father who was a colonel. She recalls the smells of her old house, and is even wistful when she describes a hired servant who had racist tendencies. Jeanne often tries to broach the subject of Paul's "real life"--his name and his past--even when he chastises her for bringing up her own. Jeanne is a child at heart; she believes that she will be fulfilled if she can learn the truth about the enigmatic Paul, in spite of the old saying about being careful what you wish for. Jeanne acts more like a precocious daughter than a seductive lover around Paul, making their sexual escapades more unnerving. She comments on his choice to shave with a straight razor--grimly implied to be the same which Rosa used to slash her wrists--and lets Paul wash her in the bath like a child. Jeanne's "daddy issues" are most evident here, underscoring their May-November relationship. (Even Rosa's mother appears younger than Paul, suggesting that this is a trend with Paul.) After Jeanne's first lusty encounter with Paul, she dresses in average street clothes, like she was dressing up to entice a man like Paul and no longer requires an alluring costume. The camera in Last Tango in Paris lingers on Jeanne, regarding her like the eye of a leering voyeur, implicating the audience in Paul's perversions, and in turn encouraging sympathy for Jeanne. For all of the debasement which Jeanne endures with Paul, she remains in his company. Why? She has doubts about her union with Tom, but she also feels that she can "tame" Paul and perhaps heal his wounded soul. It is a familiar trope of a dysfunctional relationship, especially when it borders on abuse.
Last Tango in Paris opens with a pair of portraits by Francis Bacon. The two figures in these vivid portraits appear both sensual and ugly, somewhere between ecstasy and death. Of course, this is an interpretation, which is subjective by nature--arguably the definition of "Art". Is Last Tango in Paris art? Last Tango in Paris is sensual and ugly at times, and the perception that it is debased or revealing has much to do with the audience and their values and interpretations. Does it evoke an emotional response, depicting life in all its myriad states? Does the heady sound of Gato Barbieri's saxophone on the musical score exemplify the erotic overtones and stir repressed emotions? Do you identify more with Paul or Jeanne as they are dragged down by the undertow of their destructive impulses? There is a nihilistic fury to Paul, from his primal ravishment of Jeanne as he violently tears away her underwear to his manic condemnation of the "deviants" renting rooms in his squalid "flophouse". He is aloof and even insulting to Jeanne, as though he were shielding himself from forming a meaningful attachment. This behavior is also his way of punishing himself for his perceived failings with Rosa. For Paul, the canvas of his expression is a filthy king-sized mattress which is too big for the bedroom, and occupies the center of the apartment--the living room--where no other furniture matters. For Jeanne, the poetry of her soul is written on the inside--on her heart--relying on intuition to guide her. She senses the artifice in Tom's scripted declarations of love--he describes it as what "might be cinema"--and finds the raw emotion in Paul to be the antithesis of her fiance. Paul is a part of her "sowing her wild oats" and getting a little wild in her youth--a chapter in her own personal Odyssey. From suffering to euphoria, from wrath to despair, from fear to temerity, Last Tango in Paris covers a wide spectrum of human emotion, and entices the audience to ask challenging questions about their feelings and values.
Recommended for: Fans of an emotionally complex study of two very different souls seeking something crucial within one another's embrace. Last Tango in Paris may have been perceived as shocking decades ago, but the film is best viewed as a multifaceted love story that, like a raging wildfire, is consuming and destructive, but is also like a controlled burn, necessary for growth.
While Paul is terrified of emotional intimacy, Jeanne seems starved for it. Her fiance, Tom (Jean-Pierre Léaud), is an amateur filmmaker, who is making a film ostensibly about Jeanne and her childhood, and their love for one another. But it is evident from the time that they are reunited at the train station that Tom is vain and pompous, more concerned with simulating love for the camera than real passion. He is "passionate" about his craft, but is unconvincing as Jeanne's lover. Jeanne has an urge to be known; she is not vain, but she relishes her past and, like Paul, wants to be understood. She recalls fond memories of her family homestead, and of her father who was a colonel. She recalls the smells of her old house, and is even wistful when she describes a hired servant who had racist tendencies. Jeanne often tries to broach the subject of Paul's "real life"--his name and his past--even when he chastises her for bringing up her own. Jeanne is a child at heart; she believes that she will be fulfilled if she can learn the truth about the enigmatic Paul, in spite of the old saying about being careful what you wish for. Jeanne acts more like a precocious daughter than a seductive lover around Paul, making their sexual escapades more unnerving. She comments on his choice to shave with a straight razor--grimly implied to be the same which Rosa used to slash her wrists--and lets Paul wash her in the bath like a child. Jeanne's "daddy issues" are most evident here, underscoring their May-November relationship. (Even Rosa's mother appears younger than Paul, suggesting that this is a trend with Paul.) After Jeanne's first lusty encounter with Paul, she dresses in average street clothes, like she was dressing up to entice a man like Paul and no longer requires an alluring costume. The camera in Last Tango in Paris lingers on Jeanne, regarding her like the eye of a leering voyeur, implicating the audience in Paul's perversions, and in turn encouraging sympathy for Jeanne. For all of the debasement which Jeanne endures with Paul, she remains in his company. Why? She has doubts about her union with Tom, but she also feels that she can "tame" Paul and perhaps heal his wounded soul. It is a familiar trope of a dysfunctional relationship, especially when it borders on abuse.
Last Tango in Paris opens with a pair of portraits by Francis Bacon. The two figures in these vivid portraits appear both sensual and ugly, somewhere between ecstasy and death. Of course, this is an interpretation, which is subjective by nature--arguably the definition of "Art". Is Last Tango in Paris art? Last Tango in Paris is sensual and ugly at times, and the perception that it is debased or revealing has much to do with the audience and their values and interpretations. Does it evoke an emotional response, depicting life in all its myriad states? Does the heady sound of Gato Barbieri's saxophone on the musical score exemplify the erotic overtones and stir repressed emotions? Do you identify more with Paul or Jeanne as they are dragged down by the undertow of their destructive impulses? There is a nihilistic fury to Paul, from his primal ravishment of Jeanne as he violently tears away her underwear to his manic condemnation of the "deviants" renting rooms in his squalid "flophouse". He is aloof and even insulting to Jeanne, as though he were shielding himself from forming a meaningful attachment. This behavior is also his way of punishing himself for his perceived failings with Rosa. For Paul, the canvas of his expression is a filthy king-sized mattress which is too big for the bedroom, and occupies the center of the apartment--the living room--where no other furniture matters. For Jeanne, the poetry of her soul is written on the inside--on her heart--relying on intuition to guide her. She senses the artifice in Tom's scripted declarations of love--he describes it as what "might be cinema"--and finds the raw emotion in Paul to be the antithesis of her fiance. Paul is a part of her "sowing her wild oats" and getting a little wild in her youth--a chapter in her own personal Odyssey. From suffering to euphoria, from wrath to despair, from fear to temerity, Last Tango in Paris covers a wide spectrum of human emotion, and entices the audience to ask challenging questions about their feelings and values.
Recommended for: Fans of an emotionally complex study of two very different souls seeking something crucial within one another's embrace. Last Tango in Paris may have been perceived as shocking decades ago, but the film is best viewed as a multifaceted love story that, like a raging wildfire, is consuming and destructive, but is also like a controlled burn, necessary for growth.