It has, coincidentally, a few things in common with mere pornography: the almost nonstop lovemaking; the unwavering ardor and infinitely renewable energies of the lovers; the perfect, lithe, perspirationless bodies of the actors; the flattering, orange-y Playmate of the Month lighting; the voyeuristic, anti-psychological point of view; the standard themes of mad-scientist experimentation with and gourmet savoring of human sexuality; and maybe a few other things as well. Despite those things, Nagisa Oshima's talk-of-the-town movie doesn't come close to tit-for-tat competition with "Brand X" American items. It deals very seriously with an intensity of emotion next to which the great majority of movies, not only sex movies, turn pale. It appears to be pretty swell-headed about this fact, too. But the material, in the flaunting way it is gone into here, is just sufficient for short-story length; and Oshima, who has a weakness for overextending a metaphor, runs it well into redundancy. (1976) — Duncan Shepherd
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