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Art in the buff
Ever so often the naked, human form has caught the eyes of and fascinated artists throughout history, but even though it’s something of the most naturalistic in our everyday life, it’s nearly always caused a commotion whenever it’s been put on display in more or less erotic situations on the big screen, as if it was something to be ashamed of and had to be kept hidden at all costs. And it’s been shown – many times, some more tasteful and elegant than others, and although the tolerance towards depiction of nudity by the end of the 60s and up through the 70s was increased considerably, art cinema films like Vilgot Sjömans I am Curious, Jens Jørgen Thorsens Quiet Days in Clichy and most definitely Nagisa Oshimas In the Realm of the Senses were still capable of shocking even the most liberated and open minded of viewers, and at the same time demonstrate, that the line between obscene pornography and high art is relative and isn’t easily defined. A dilemma that, sadly, also applies to the Polish-born director Walerian Borowczyks, at the time in 1973, much debated but extraordinarily beautiful portmanteau movie Immoral Tales.
Which is unjust, seeing that it doesn’t contain one, single element that even remotely qualifies as pornography in the traditional sense of the word (i.e. real penetrations), albeit it has indeed brought together the largest number of naked, young people in any movie in recent memory. And yes, it doesn’t shy away from showing pubic hairs in numerous close-ups either, but on the other hand these scenes seem remarkably inoffensive as they possess a quite distinctive sense of sensualism. Borowczyk does not employ the otherwise popular soft focus technique (as seen in Emmanuelle) in order to aestheticize the erotic passages, like he also refrains from bathing his actors and actresses in warm, luminous colors. His visual approach is more naturalistic, the particular use of light makes many details stand out more clearly, and this texture that is laid bare through the often curious and searching camera lens, conveys a certain honesty and authenticity that makes every body part seem brimming with sensuality.
However, what really makes Borowczyks four individual stories stand out is the almost total lack of dialogue. Many other artistically inclined erotic movies from the same era were liable to talk for what seemed like an eternity, submerging themselves in pseudo-philosophical meditations and generally end up being nothing more than stilted, dreary and pretentious, only sporadically titillating to watch. Only to a mild extend does Immoral Tales suffer from these drawbacks, because by thoroughly keeping a strong focus on sound effects rather than endless talk, Borowczyk creates a tense, intimate atmosphere, it feels as if time stands still and almost imperceptibly you’re drawn into a highly suggestive and dreamlike world where the course of events must be appreciated from an emotional point of view rather than through a rational way of thinking. It’s so intoxicating that you often forget what the stories are actually about.
And there are some pretty juicy and delicate themes on display here. The Tide is a contemporary story about an afternoon walk on a beach where a 20-year old man seduces his 16-year old cousin while he, somewhat far-fetched, explains to her the connection between the tide and his increasing desire that ultimately ends with his climax. Equipped with the bible and a couple of good-sized cucumbers, Charlotte Alexandra (from Catherine Breillats A Real Young Girl) experiences religious ecstasy during confinement in Thérèse Philosophe, and subsequently you get to watch Pablo Picassos daughter Paloma as Erzsébet Bathory in the chapter of the same name. She plays a decadent, Hungarian countess, an authentic person who reportedly (here with the aid of her personal page and lover Istvan) kidnapped hundreds of young girls from nearby and surrounding hamlets and slaughtered them in order to bathe in their virgin blood, which she believed had rejuvenating powers. The movie is rounded off with the true story of consummated incest between Lucrezia Borgia, her brother Cardinal Cesare and their father, Pope Alexander VI.
Taken into consideration the controversial aspects of human sexuality uncovered here, it is remarkable how light and carefree the mood actually is. That can be attributed to the exquisite and poetic way each of the four stories are served up, but the last two must carry off a special mention, and Erzsébet Bathory in particular. With its delightful compositions, beautiful tableaus, ascetic, yet evocative settings and magnificent costumes this is, in spite of its bloody potential, a passionate, romantic and lyrical tale of love and death – and in addition it stages some of the most searingly erotic scenes ever committed to celluloid. For that reason you’re willing to overlook the artificial approach in The Tide and Thérèse Philosophe as well as accept Borowczyks anonymity regarding some of the stories obvious moral questions. But assuming that Immoral Tales is intended purely as a spicy fantasy, the most immoral thing about this movie lies more in the actual selection of tabooed themes than in the way they are presented and carried out. So hold that thought and feast your eyes on the striking pictures. 
Picture: 8/10
A message to all of you who have waited a long time for a decent transfer of this movie: Chuck out your Anchor Bay DVD – it’s time for an upgrade! That particular release had many drawbacks regarding the visual presentation, among others an overly grainy and often soft picture, and in addition it wasn’t even enhanced for 16:9 televisions, even though it was stated on the cover. These mistakes are corrected in Nouveaux Pictures’ vastly improved and eminently handsome transfer. The colors are beautifully saturated and naturalistic looking, and the black and white levels are deep and bright respectively. Scratches and dirt are kept to an absolute minimum and the details are for the most part clear and well defined. In a couple of instances you can spot a bit of edge enhancement, but it’s very slight and chances are you won’t even notice it. However, Thérèse Philosophe doesn’t look as good as the other three episodes - it appears a bit grainier overall and particularly for the last couple of minutes the picture is smeared and has a red tinge to it. It’s by no means intolerable, just not top notch. The easy-to-read subtitles are, like on the Anchor Bay version, forced and cannot be turned off, but here they are without the irritating black background – and by the way, in a movie almost devoid of dialogue it’s fairly limited how much they actually distract from the sensual goings-on.
Sound: 6/10
Apart from the treble sounding a bit harsh in places, Immoral Tales features a pleasant, detailed and noiseless French Dolby Digital 2.0 mono soundtrack, with good rendition of dialogue (what there is of it) and atmospheric sound effects. Bass is non-existent, but you’ll hardly miss it.
Extras: 3/10
Moderately interesting. An extremely limited picture gallery consisting of a couple of stills from the movie is completely without relevance and could just as easily have been dispensed with. Of more interest is the documentary Telling Tales (11.38 minutes) that tells about Borowczyks background as a filmmaker and his unique, visual style through interviews with three dedicated devotees.
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