...The filmmaker engages in an artistic colonialism of his own by painting such one dimensional black characters whose *spoilers* deaths even fall flat and are trivialized by the microcosm he's created. I don't get the praise?
Charlotte Rampling was the clear star of the show in this, at times, cringe worthy film. Only her monologue rang even relatively true. The dialogue was stilted and overly melodramatic which greatly contrasted the neo realistic execution (non actors held their own). Direction appeared to be lazy as I constantly allow my eyes to drift to supporting actors at emotionally pivotal moments: they stood around dead eyed...
Yes the women were there for gratification as it were, but there was a deeper psychology beyond raw physical satisfaction, and the actors embodied the roles really well - they thought (and thus we think) that all they wanted was an easy life, but noone could help becoming emotionally attached.. through their relations the film subtly questioned more pertinent political/racial issues too. I really enjoyed this.
Visually authentic, which was a pleasure. A bit stilted sexually, without enough gut-and-mind-emptying gratification shown, which is what the white women were there for, as was described by Ellen in her final monologue. Too bad imo, because some great sex scenes in full could catapult this film into a more of a classic. Still, authentic, and pleasant, and glad I saw it ^0|0^