How is it that I smiled for exactly the first half, then squirmed for the other? Such a lovely, unique, and effective movie.
Bertolucci explores male and female sexuality. The result is purely breathtaking. No work of art had ever aroused my body as profoundly as Last Tango in Paris. This is cinema for the senses.
Is anyone making similar movies today? Has anyone else ever done something like this? Could anyone?