"Quills" was far more delightful, funny, endearing and thought-provoking than I'd have hoped.I was expecting something ponderous, insideously dark, vulgar, exploitive. I was expecting an apologia for the modern S & M community.
Well, I was wrong.
I've always wanted to identify with Sade on some level. I empathized, guiltily, with his need to write without censorship. I've wanted to celebrate his pansexualism.
But I felt I couldn't. I had a moral, ethical and political duty to revile the pathetic bastard.
This delicately-written screenplay freed me. I'm allowed to sympathize with Sade. It's rather like being an animal rights advocate in the presence of an enraged badger. But, nonetheless, I have a right to, in some way, love the old malcontent. Prudence, however, prevents me from actually embracing him; that could be painful, if not deadly.
Sade never, seemingly, practiced what the modern S & M community SWEARS they have adopted: Consentuality. Sade's objects (and I use the word intentionally) were subjected to his "libertine" experiments without their permission, in many instances.
Whether or not current S & M practitioners actually adhere to this consentiality claim is an argument for another place or time. I've been close friends with S & M devotees, and can tell you, from first-hand witness, they're not as scrupulous as they'd like to portray, pretend or believe. The motives of, in particular, the masocistic participants derive from deep, psychological traumas which affect sexuality. Some "bottoms," as they're called, permit behaviors for reasons I suspect are derived from self-hatred. Be that as it may, it's not my role to judge nor to definitively analyse sadomasochism in the modern world. I'm letting myself off the hook. I've learned a lot from my S & M friends: safe words, talking about sex before engaging in it, bedroom and seduction etiquette, etc. I don't participate in any but the lightest forms of bondage, myself. I have no interest in associating pain with sexuality. I'm an incest survivor. I'm more interested in associating PLEASURE with sexuality, myself.
At any rate, "Quills" is a fine movie. It's a little too on the side of revisionist history for such a well-written play and screenplay. The women portrayed seem far too liberated, especially those of the lower classes. They have choices which I seriously doubt would be available to women of the times.
The acting is superb, period.
In watching the full-length with the playwrite's commentary, I soon realized I'd like to be his friend. I suspect I'd have some of the greatest conversations of my life with this guy. He's enormously amusing, well-read, insightful. While soft-spoken and articulate, he's fiercely loyal to the idea that art must not, and probably cannot, be stifled by censors. In fact, he asserts that the very act of attempting censorship challenges and inspires the artist to greater heights.
I argue not only with the portrayals of liberated women. I also argue with the conditions at the mental hospital, aka insane asylum, wherein the movie occurs.
At first, I found it difficult to believe the occupants would have access to musical instruments, choirs, stage productions, painting. Our playwrite assures us that, indeed, the Abby of the institution was progressive for his time and did allow such art therapies. Remarkable!
But one scene betrays a poor understanding of conditions in an asylum of the time. Kate Winslett has just finished reading an erotic passage to other, working-class employees. For reasons I can't explain, they seem to live in an inmate's cell: barred windows, heavy door, no bedding or other furnishings. They're lying on a straw-covered floor. Straw flooring was common for prisoners. It was not only bedding, it was the toilet. Why employees would be living like that is anybody's guess. But here's the betrayal to authenticity: everybody's excited, aroused and laughing at the passage Kate has just read. Kate throws straw up into the air and lets it fall on her body. Um. Poopy, pissy straw? What? People who live around even the cleanest straw know how itchy and pokey it is and would never dream of deliberately throwing it on themselves.
Also, the Marquis' sheets are of such a low thread count and bad weave, he wouldn't have been able to write on them with wine dipped in a chicken bone. This, even though the dialogue specifically mentions that the thread count of the Marquis' sheets would be superior to the bedding of other inmates.
These are quibbles. I watched the "special features." I know the producers, director and writer... and even the actors... paid scrupulous attention to details of the atmosphere and population of this production.
It's an art movie. It's literature. It's fine acting.
Apparantly, the author hovered about for the entire filming of the movie. I'm surprised he wasn't killed for his constant comments, suggestions and insinuations into the production.
The "special features" on this DVD are at least as important as the movie, itself.
I still marvel that FOX released it!
This movie is for intelligent adults. It is not for: children, the mentally unstable, the fundamentalist (these last two I consider to be the same thing, mind you).
Human sexuality is just as complex and misunderstood as human anything else. This film is for those of us who enjoy discussing the misunderstandings, in hopes of learning something useful.
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