The Duke of Burgundy

Director: Peter Strickland
Cast: Sidse Babett Knudsen, Chiara D’Anna
Length: 105 minutes
Country: UK

The Duke of Burgundy is as interesting for what it chooses to omit as what it chooses to keep. It recognises that true eroticism is as much about what is implied as is actually shown. Anyone can make pornography, all you have to do is film people having sex. However, the true art of erotica is to imbue sexuality with actual feelings and emotions. The profundity of an erotic film is not the sex itself, but what this sex reveals about human nature. As the old saying goes, everything is about sex apart from sex itself. In this sense, The Duke of Burgundy is one of the keenest films I’ve seen when it comes to analysing the minutiae of sexual relationships.

The film takes place in a non-specific small town, in a non-specific time and place, in a world seemingly without men. Evelyn (Chiara D’Anna) and Cynthia (Sidse Babett Knudsen) live and sleep together, sharing a dominant/submissive relationship. The narrative is cleverly built out of a repeated scenario where Evelyn pretends to be a maid, and Cynthia pretends to be dissatisfied with her work. Then as punishment Cynthia pisses in Evelyn’s mouth. Of course this isn’t shown, merely heard outside the bathroom door. Other punishment includes locking Evelyn in a box to sleep. What I learnt from watching the movie – as I don’t really indulge in these types of sexual relationships myself – is the fluidity of the dominant/submissive relationship. One can demand to be dominated, in turn becoming a dominator themselves, and vice versa. As this scenario is repeated, it creates unexpectedly emotional results. I think that because the film excluded any male characters from entering the narrative, it escapes the patriarchal model of sexual relations, therefore moving into new and terribly exciting territory. It can’t be merely coincidental that my favourite romantic films of the last two years or so (Blue is the Warmest Colour. The Summer of Sangaile and now this film) have all centered on lesbian relationships. Maybe it’s because they don’t have so much cinematic history behind them that they now have so much more to say.

Its erotic beauty and truth puts Fifty Shades of Grey’s falsity to shame

Cynthia analyses butterflies and moths for a living, and scenes of sexual joy and agony are constantly juxtaposed with lepidopteran imagery. The obsessive detailing of the differences in specie works incredibly well as a metaphor for how fetishes work. They’re to do with a specific need, and the fastidious detailing of these needs puts Strickland on a par with Luis Buñuel, who understood the immense power of fetishes in his erotic movies, such as Viridiana and Belle de Jour. Like Buñuel, Strickland also puts dreams and fantasies to expert effect, combining his esoteric images with well-observed sound effects. The soundtrack by Cat’s Eyes is comprised of suitably dreamy baroque pop, which adds to its retro seventies vibe. At times the film diverges into highly esoteric territory and some of the dream montages stretch out a little longer than necessary but these are small quibbles compared to its overall brilliance. Its erotic beauty and truth puts Fifty Shades of Grey’s falsity to shame. It will probably be the best British film of the year.

Image: Artificial Eye