REVIEWED: SECRET THINGS/CHOSES SECRÈTES SOME older readers - grown before the arrival of video - may recall waiting up eagerly for the arty French film on BBC2 in the hope of seeing a few corners of flesh, writes Donald Clarke
Secret Things, a dizzyingly inconsistent erotic thriller from the eccentric Jean-Claude Brisseau, is exactly the sort of film we prayed we were about to see.
Featuring hot sister-and-brother action, three-on-the-floor love romps and lesbian frottage in the Metro, this bewildering film manages to transform itself from Les Liaisons Dangereuse to Eyes Wide Shut to Caligula with something approaching seamlessness. To put together hogwash this overblown and still keep it watchable is no small achievement.
The picture begins in Zalman King territory with Sandrine (Sabrina Seyvecou), a shy - or what passes for shy in this world - waitress, being led astray by the erotic dancer Natalie (Coralie Revel). The two women decide to take jobs in an office, pick up a man each and use sexual wiles to do awful things to his psyche. While Sandrine has some success, Natalie finds herself out of her depth.
The middle section of the film builds tension effectively and does a decent job of persuading us to support the women in their schemes. By contrast, the final act is so absurd and overheated that laughter seem a distinctly inadequate response.
But, filmed in colours from the 1970s and edited with welcome languor, Secret Things does appear to be put together with a sincere desire to say something about sex and power. Broad-minded viewers should have fun failing to discern just what that something may be.
