Trailers for Peter Strickland’s The Duke of Burgundy, opening at the Brattle this Friday, give the impression that the film is heralding a revival of the “classy” European erotica movement of the 1960s and ’70s. With lush visuals, crawling maids, condescending mistresses, heaving corsets, and a quote from The Hollywood Reporter calling it “kinky as a coiled rope,” its marketing pitch relies heavily on its appeal to those already familiar with kink and the Eurosleaze of Jess Franco.
These components are an integral part of the film, but those familiar with Strickland’s previous film, Berberian Sound Studio, are already aware of his ability to utilize the narrative logic of 1970s exploitation cinema and use it to reach new dramatic, psychological, and artistic heights. Both Studio and Burgundy employs styles and settings borrowed from bygone genres—giallo and erotica, respectively—to tell wholly unique stories that rely less on lurid shock while still maintaining every ounce of atmosphere.
The Duke of Burgundy begins with an erotically charged scenario in which the submissive Evelyn arrives at the impossibly picturesque manor of the commanding Cynthia in an unnamed Central European town populated only by apparently wealthy, erudite women. Evelyn is to be Cynthia’s maid for the day, performing tasks such as washing intimates, rubbing feet, and scrubbing the floor on all fours, all while being chided for her tardiness and being refused permission to use the toilet.
This opening is sold as a titillating Franco fantasy, but we later learn that this was in fact one of several staged scenarios that the pair act out in the context of a loving relationship. Yet the duo is not equally kinky, a fact that weighs heavily on Cynthia when it becomes an obstacle to her ability to perform acts that give her no pleasure, but that she follows through with out of love for her partner. After a while, her scripted lines and actions become rote and empty. She cannot improvise the sort of humiliation that Evelyn desires, and when the abuse comes from a place of genuine frustration, it thickens the fine line between roleplay and romantic schism. The apex of this tension arrives in the form of a particularly overwhelming, abstract sequence that is totally divorced from the narrative yet firmly grounded in the story. It must be seen to be believed.
Strickland is a filmmaker of rare talent, a technically gifted craftsman who relies heavily on artistic instinct. The Duke of Burgundy will have an impact on you whether or not its constituent components are taken literally. You don’t need to be kinky to sympathize; whereas a film like Secretary is functionally a BDSM fairy tale, Burgundy uses its fantastical setting and heightened sexuality to portray romantic tribulations familiar to us all.
THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY | NOT RATED | OPENS FRIDAY JANUARY 30 AT THE BRATTLE THEATRE. 40 BRATTLE ST., CAMBRIDGE. 617-876-6838. BRATTLEFILM.ORG
