Interesting depiction of intimacy, evocative and purged of guilt about the human body, its flaws and its craving for desire. The superimpositions initially don't work and the sexual politics are not entirely free of facile romanticism. Overall, though, it succeeds in the naturalism with which it portrays sexual pleasure.
"Aesthetic" is such a horrible word but it's obviously what it was trying to achieve, some sort of sensuality. I wanted to enjoy it but I found myself mostly cringing halfway in. It's overlapping, spinning, zooming & them having sex doesn't mean anything. It's still super empty if the only way to discuss gender and sexual identity is just straight up porn. Not to mention the bloody music still ringing in my head.
Aside from the pitch of those high flute sounds, this was lovely. Am imagining it must have been revolutionary for its time, as happiness is shown being had without a penis in sight. Now it seems not such a big deal; just people enjoying themselves and each other. Loved the superimposition of a pomegranate ;)
I wish I could comment on this without leaving a rating, except I don't have a comment.... I guess this is one of those things where you can have appreciation for the cutural-historical context, subtext, intertextuality, or what have you, yet still be glad that it was only 4 minutes (punctuated as they are by candles, bush, and more Moog than is justifiable).
Interesting use of overlapping images - multiple layers dancing not quite in sync with a weirdly strange, but mesmerising score. It basically is a time-capsule travelling back to 1974, a period that I find fascinatingly inspiring. Other than that, and without the context, it doesn't make much sense, nor does it have any emotional impact. What if it wasn't made by a lesbian, but a gay, or a "plain" hetero? Hmm...
The most important detail for me is in the shot that begins at the 3-minute mark: the caress of a nipple and its breast, then suddenly- dirty fingernails. We have a clear view of those fingernails for several seconds. To have abandoned self-consciousness to such a final degree, even during intimacy... that would be deep liberation. Some feminism must take place in one's soul. This film is *very* 1974, but important.
As light, fulfilling and inconsequential as only Sunday morning sex can be. It makes lesbian love what it really is without heavy handed, socially charged, naive and fully dressed millennial LGTB propaganda. But hey, it was 1974 when everything was possible.