The Fruits of Passion

Terayama supposedly knocked off this piece of arse-with-class to finance his theatre work. Certainly it's a highly dispiriting plunge into latter-day Borowczyk territory: softcore gropings dished up with arty trappings and fetishistic gloss to guarantee French box-office action. The narrative (based on the sequel to The Story of O) has Kinski testing his young love's affection in an Oriental brothel. Lashings of surrealist 'touches', so male culture-hunters needn't feel guilty when aroused.