AS LONG AS YOU LOVE ME
1:29 PM
“Without pain, without sacrifice we would have nothing. Like the first monkey shot into space.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
The world
where Peter Strickland’s "Duke of Burgundy" protagonists live is a
quaint and isolated space, a vacuum of any era-defining props and devoid of all
male influence. The camera zooms into the life of a lepidopterist lesbian couple
whose ways of enjoying each other’s company might not always fall into the
framework of convention. However, as the world they live in has no room for
people as we know them - they all, except the curious bespoke furniture
saleslady, are just moths outside their window, constantly looking in from the
outside, but never invited in, or like the numerous eerie mannequins in one of the
lectures the ladies attend. There is no other normality and no judgement is
cast.
Despite
the numerous references to the sexploitation films, the similarities only run
skin deep. There is prurience in the dialogue but it never seeps into the
visuals to warrant comparison with anything other than soft inklings of
eroticism which are commonplace in contemporary films. Furthermore, the tension
is not built on the mutual attraction between Cynthia (Sidse Babett Knudsen)
and Evelyn (Chiara D’Anna) and hope for its release of some kind, but the whodunnit-like
structure of the Groundhog everyday of their relationship. Their scripted role play
is repeated every day with the facade cast on the patters of power in their
relationship crumbling away with every passing repeated word. Subtle tinge of
escalating desperation which brings about a slight change in perception keeps
the tension high. Who is the puppet master and whose limbs are tangling on
strings? The will-she-won’t-she structure is morphed into a strange tug-of-war of
whose self-destructive love for the other overshadows her own well-being. Cynthia
who yearns for the middle-aged comforts of a steady relationship reluctantly tightens
the corset strings and pulls on the wig and Evelyn cannot, despite herself,
give up the alluring confines of the box and the yearning for unconventional excitement.
It’s “Amour” before the grim reaper appears on the doorstep.
Even
though the underlying subject matter of “Duke of Burgundy” is quite a serious
one, concentrating on love and sacrifice, it is presented in a surprisingly
light manner. The aforementioned sexual escapades of the two ladies add a
quirky sense of humour to the proceedings. Ample “shoe polishing” metaphors and
quotes like “Had I ordered the human toilet, none of this would have happened”
and “I might just tie you up and use you as a chair for the afternoon” resemble
the airy approach to the subject seen in the first part of Trier’s “Nymphomaniac”.
Thus, sex is not a means on its own but a metaphor providing a glimpse into the
inner workings of a relationship. Trier’s Joe just demanded more from the sunset
and these two ladies are just trying to find a way to love each other.
Despite
the universal truths hidden behind the suggestive veneer and pacing which keeps
the tension high, “Duke of Burgundy” is still an eccentric and ambitious film
laden with cinematic references and gems of unique shots. The predominant
characteristic of director Peter Strickland’s style is his attention to detail the
results of which range from the obsessively enigmatic to the refreshingly
eye-opening. Similarly to the marvellous shots of rotting fruit in
"Berberian Sound Studio", which created an eerie heightened perception
of the material world and decay around us, Strickland takes time to zoom in on slowly
popping soap bubbles on ladies' undergarments. These shots draw the attention
to the unfamiliar which is hidden under the mundane and take attention off from
the central storyline, leaving time and space to ponder on what is happening on
the screen. Reminescent of Jean-Luc Godard’s stupenduous coffee scene in “Two
or Three Things I Know about Her”, these panties are a feat of precision and
visual mastery.
However,
Strickland's obsession with the strange and the obscure can also
overcomplicate, overwhelm and exhaust the viewers. The emphasis on lepidoptery
and frequent montage sequences of moths seem to be forcefully spoon-feeding
some kind of a metaphor the purpose or meaning of which is never explained nor
seems to add anything to the story. Illustrations of different insects
resembling those which can be found in 19th century books carry a hint
of hipster vacuity which might make the film look more visually appealing to the
contemporary viewers but fail to add much else. Similarly the sequence which
consists of a montage of images of moth wings seems to be a direct reference to
Mr Brackhage and his experiments with recording without film. However relevant
these might be in the contemporary ever more digitised world, they seem to
stand completely separate from the beautiful and simple lesbian love story. In a
way, one could say that these external objects create ambiguity for the sake of
ambiguity and put unnecessary weight on the film. Too prevalent and invasive to
amount to nothing but too enigmatic to add to the reading of the film, these
only serve as an advertisement break of the director’s cinematic knowledge –
curious and maybe laudable as homage, but in the end of the day, simply a
decorative diversion.
“Duke of
Burgundy” delves head-first into the intricacies of love without turning away
from the heart-wrenching silent sacrifices people make for the ones they care
for every day. These explorations do not take place in a traditional “pining
Juliet and balcony-climbing Romeo” setting but in a humorously sex-tinged women-exclusive
vacuum which never reduces its universal emotional bite. Peter Strickland’s obsessive
eye for detail can both enormously enrich and slightly take away from the film’s
punch (there is, of course, always the possibility that it is a pearls in front
of pigs kind of situation) but the compelling non-sex-led impetus to slowly
discover the “truth” about the central relationship alone makes “Duke of
Burgundy” a compelling watch. In the end of the day, it is not about the human
toilet, bubbling soap on panties or countless moths, but the “ever-fixed mark
that looks on tempests and is never shaken”.
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