Too many obscure words, too much jargon. I can understand you, but I don't pleasure in that fact.
Curious how such a sensual, luxurious postmodern pleasure - in every sense of the word - and one as contiguous to the decadence of the Belle Époque as L'Apollonide, could be so frigid in its secluded, if intimate tapestry of livelihoods. Yet it emerges to form an arousing blend, with its demurity consisting but one part of Bonello’s immaculate cinematic seduction: exquisitely languorous, his House of Tolerance is one filled with sadness and love.
A feast for the eyes and the ears, this is highly stylized filmmaking done right. Bonello took a few risks, but for the most part, they pay off handsomely. House of Pleasures is languorous, sensuous, and bittersweet. "If we don't burn," Clotilde asks, "how will the night be lit?" Indeed.
An elegiac study of fin de siècle sexual politics, House of Pleasures often resembles a Pre-Raphaelite paintings brought to life. The brushstrokes of light and shadow conceal (or at least obfuscate) the artifice of its gilded interiors and studied haut-bourgeois trappings, the gossomer-thin fiction of blank-faced passivity and languid eroticism.
It's really nice to see when prostitutes, sex, drama and art are combined perfectly, even though the story was expected (life of prostitutes; their dreams, their encounters etc).. And also, the lighting and the color was renaissance like, it's like watching a moving painting...
brilliant. if i could only adjust the lighting in life to look like every last frame in this movie.
A film about the fluid nature of time: split-screens, elliptical editing, a flash-forward, anachronistic music, and period details all mingle on the film's surface. Meanwhile, the women of l'Apollonide go about their day-to-day business, haunted equally by past events and the ever-slimming possibilities that lay on their horizons. Beautifully shot, House of Tolerance explores time's ghastly, relentless potential.