A free spirited sculptor enters into a passionate affair with the beautiful Olga, whose thirst for sexual experimentation matches his own. As their romance progresses, the two decide to marry, but their relationship is opposed by Olga’s mother.
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WOW. Have not seen much Verhoeven, but after watching Elle was intrigued to this early work. I cannot think of another film which is so full of life. Every scene is bursting with energy and passion, and the leads are brilliant. I love how varied Verhoeven's work is - his final product might not always be well received critically but at least he always seems to leave a bold impression on the viewer.
Deep below its raw surface, of the hedonistic wanderings of our flawed couple, lies a poignant study of the frailty of humanity, how tender and finite life is. The constant shift of tones are the testament of a very capable Verhoeven, using the camera as a magnifying glass for emotions, and the tougher and uglier, the better. A lively, overtly sexual and satirical tragedy.
A raw and powerful piece of work that is as exhilarating as it is unsettling. Rutger Hauer and Monique van de Ven lose themselves into their roles with a reckless abandon masterfully accentuated through the fluid camerawork, razor-sharp editing, and deft touches of bizarre dark humor. One of Verhoeven's crowning achievements, a masterpiece.
As "Les Valseuses" and with an actor with a body and face as immense as Depardieu's in that film (Rutger Hauer), a film that was lost in time conquering it, that is, a film that marked so much and so deeply its time that has not come to this unscathed, but that loss guarantees also its greatest interest. That and a compelling eschatology, ludicrously exposed, as if Verhoeven could reach John Waters' heights.
The passion of the artist, incarnated in Erik Vonk, brought to explosion by the young Olga, and the result is a depiction of uncontrolled will to live. “Turks fruit” is audacious and outrageous as life itself (plus it’s very, very funny if you have a suitable sense of humour). In the end it reminds us hedonists of the bitter side of our existence, but that’s the cost of all the joy that we have before it.