A minor embarrassment from a minor master: Polanski directing his plump, sleepy-eyed wife, Emmanuelle Seigner, as a megaton Sex Bomb. The setting is shipboard, but any comparison to the same director's Knife in the Water goes out the porthole with the endless narrated flashbacks to a sadomasochistic imbroglio in Paris. (The wheelchair-bound narrator, bending the reddened ear of a fellow passenger, is a would-be writer, a would-be Hemingway or Henry Miller, so -- "My nerve ends were jangling like bells," etc.) It's all, or mostly, supposed to be slyly humorous ("I loved her, but our credit was running out. We were headed for sexual bankruptcy"), but that only adds to the embarrassment. Peter Coyote, Hugh Grant, Kristin Scott-Thomas. (1993) — Duncan Shepherd
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