The Key

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Good movie to watch for especially the director tinto brass his capability of making every movie is great and he is the best.

THE KEY is another erotic drama from one of the kings of the genre, Tinto Brass. It's a film which is all about sex, sex, and more sex, with little plot otherwise, although the characterisation is better fleshed out than I imagined. The film has a classy, well-shot look which lifts it above sleazier movies by the likes of Jess Franco, but there's not much content and it does feel repetitive. It also feels a lot like one of the Japanese erotic movies that have been popular for the last fifty years. Frank Finlay is a surprise presence in this film; this British character actor is the last person you'd expect to see baring all for such a production, but there he is. Stefania Sandrelli gives the stand-out turn in a very explicit performance that must have been a real test of nerve for the actress.

In Salon Kitty, director Tinto Brass showed an Authoritarian-fascist government exploiting the sexual secrets of its people in order for reasons of control and manipulation; in The Key, set in Venice just before the outbreak of the second world war, Brass shows sexual transgression as a means of escaping the suffocating quotidian world of fascist sexual-social morality, although that escape comes at the price of self-sacrifice and death. An ageing professor of art is bothered by his younger wife Teresa's modesty and priggishness. He lays a plan to manipulate her into expressing her sexual side, through the use of diaries purposefully left to be discovered, erotic photography, alcohol and finally a stage-managed affair between Teresa and his daughter's fiancé. Yet setting the workings of desire in motion this way leads to things slipping from the professor's control: his wife becomes increasingly an agent in her own sexual liberation, his fascist daughter schemes for her own ends and finally the professor's own body escapes the control of his mind, leading to spasm, thrombosis and death. Yet the death doesn't seem tragic, as it frees both the professor from the evils of history which are about to be spectacularly unleashed (and this is a man who has been helping the Jews of Venice) and his wife from her socially imposed role of modest matron and submissive object. Brass' film shows sexual desire as a looking-glass world (mirrors abound) in which values are undermined, roles are reversed and social propriety is challenged. As Teresa becomes increasingly liberated, she puts men in the role of providers of pleasure, gains her own enjoyment out of seeing them naked and even gets them parading about in her clothes: the professor's collapse comes after he has been ordered by Teresa to wear her knickers, stockings and bra and make love to her in them for because that's how she likes to see him. The film's narrative movement mirrors the story's progression: at first, the professor is the protagonist and Teresa is subject to the male gaze; gradually she takes over as the focus of the film, and men come increasingly under the naked scrutiny of the camera. Intriguingly, the taking of photographs is one of the methods by which the professor manipulates the other characters, and one feels that Brass is hoping that his photography will manipulate his audience, male and female, in similar ways. Also worth noting is the way in which Teresa's costumes chart her changes, so that by the denouement she is wearing pure white for her husband's funeral. Yet the end of the film makes complex the focus on sexual liberation for the individual, as the remaining characters are drowned out by history, in the shape of fascist announcement, songs and celebrations. Frank Finlay is aptly cast as the professor, returning to Venice for the third time in his career, having hatched Iago's plan to sexually manipulate Othello in the Olivier film there, and then having been imprisoned in Venice by the Inquisition for his sexual transgressions as the title character in Dennis Potter's mini-series Casanova. Stephania Sandrelli gives a spirited and extraordinarily brave performance as Teresa, throwing off her art-house airs to luxuriate in the most lurid scenes of soft-core erotica, and having the voluptuousness and acting skill to trace her characters emotional and physical journey in the most eye-poppingly sexy and seductive way. Beautifully filmed, designed and lit, and probably as near as Brass ever came to making a cinematic masterpiece.

Just from the opening scene it's evident that Tinto Brass is in a class of his own as a filmmaker. A beautifully shot period piece in which an ageing husband gets aroused by his wife falling for her daughter's boyfriend (kind of a ménage a quatre), simply because it arouses him to see his wife aroused. I'm not into cuckolding, but it's actually a sweet, romantic film in a way, just with a lot of visual fawning over women's exposed buttocks. Tinto Brass is like that. I've heard about him but not really seen much so far. I'm glad this is beginning to change.

A main female character sums up this pile of narrative nonsense at the conclusion of the film saying something like, "I was faithful by being unfaithful." Meaning she was compliant in her husband's wishes for her to link up with their son-in-law so her horny husband could become sexually excited by watching her, thus sparking their marriage alive again. Set against Mussolini's rise to power in 1940s Italy, I suppose auteur Tinto Brass is trying to make some haughty comment on how the Italian populace of the time, repressed by Catholic guilt, succumbed to Il Duce's desire for them to fall faithfully in line with Italian pride and become unfaithful from the moral direction of the Church. Who knows really, because Brass is more concerned with Stefania Sandrelli's derriere than he is about political/spiritual ambivalence. Alas, Mr. Brass' focus on lead actress Sandrelli's bottom is the only theme you're bound to come away with after viewing an hour and 50 minutes of this soft-core cornfest. British thesp Frank Finlay takes a leap at a starring role by heading south to Italy and being forced to look every bit the dirty old man under the meticulous kink direction by Brass. As the premature, if you will, hubby in this standard menage a trois, he can only last a matter of seconds in the sack with his much younger wife, played by the suitably stunning Sandrelli. It is only when he becomes jealous over his wife's attentions to his son-in-law, played with robot-amateur woodenness by Franco Branciaroli, that Finlay becomes excited enough to maintain another kind of woodenness. By drugging his wife into a fitful slumber and picture-posing her in various open positions for photo-ops, Frank cements our disgusted feeling that we are somehow watching the actual sad home life of the Italian Pinto, Tinto. While nowhere near as decadent as "Caligula," "La Chiave" has that movie's ability to make you want to take a cleansing shower afterwards to wash its depressing, sleazy drivel off your conscience. Once we learn the designs of Finlay's ho-hum plan, in the first 20 minutes, all we're left with is countless meandering soft-focus shots of Sandrelli and Branciaroli strolling around Venice, fornicating in their hideaway lair, and Finlay foppishly sniffing after her like a pheremone-obsessed hounddog. The fast-forward button won't help you on this one. You'll be woefully buzzing through a flick that has no worthwhile stopping point. My rating: 0 out of ****.

As usual with Brass, this is a very classy sex film, with Hollywood-class production values. (This, I might add, is a rare exception, not the rule, among other sex-film makers. Radley Metzger is the only other director I can think of offhand whose sex films invariably have great production values.). Stefania Sandrelli is an absolutely stunning woman, with a gorgeously filled-out body, unlike the skinny-jinnies that many other directors are fond of. The film is set in Venice in 1940 and the locales are beautiful, while at the same time focusing on a "native's Venice," rather than the few over-photographed canals and churches one generally sees. But the people who did the U.S. version DVD are incompetents, unfortunately. This is only the second DVD that I have watched where the brightness/contrast were so badly mangled in making the transfer that the film is unwatchable until one moves his controls way off their ISF-calibrated positions. To be precise, it is the second-worst. The worst has been the total butchering of Antonioni's "La Notte", where even moving the controls to their limit cannot produce a decent picture.

This DVD had been calling out to me from the cult section of my local video store for about two months before I rented it. The cover art of Stefania projects an allure that is only the begining of a very profound experience. Brass manages to create a film that doesn't make some epic statement of love, society and relationships. Instead he presents a rather odd and erotic situation that makes you think and feel (in various ways) the gravity of the characters situations. The film is also not afraid to come accross as a little silly at times. Don't be mistaken, this is first and foremost and erotic movie, but it manages something masterful in that genre. Tinto Brass has constructed a very nice platform for sensual expression in this film. I wouldn't advise seeing it with your local bible study group, but it isn't frat boy tissue party material either. If you are open to nudity and sensuality this could be just the movie to share with your partner on a night alone together. The sets and the actors are well done, but you still get to see plenty of sex. Tinto's Key is the perfect movie to potentially unlock those who are "one the fence" when it comes to erotic cinema.

This is a most accomplished and underrated film from Tinto Brass. There are several reasons why the very mention of the director's name will cause many to stop reading right now. His association with Caligula and Salon Kitty and of course his later joyfully, and uncompromisingly erotic later works do not suggest this might be a 'serious' film maker. However, for me, the most difficult aspect was coming to terms with the fact that this has been transposed from the writer, Junichiro Tanizaki's Japanese homeland to a wintry Venice. The whole notion of a couple each keeping a sexual diary (locked up but knowingly made available) as a way of communicating their hopes and desires is so not the way we consider Italians likely to behave. But, never mind, the film is great enough to overcome this and in no time I was under the spell of the beautiful and prestigious actress, Stefania Sandrelli and to a lesser extent by Frank Finlay. I should also clarify the point that this fairly explicit film is about eroticism and not in the main erotic itself. Mr Brass does, of course, indulge himself quite a few lingering shots of certain parts of Sandrelli's anatomy but I'm sure nobody would grudge him that, certainly not I.

The Key