Bovie Movie

A London website designer ops out of her comfortable but ordinary relationship with a nice boyfriend when she forms a dangerously obsessive bond with a handsome, mysterious mountaineer, who turns out to have some secrets.

After surviving a brutal car wreck, commercial director James Ballard finds himself slowly drawn to a mysterious subculture of people who have transformed automobile accidents into erotic events. Like the J.G. Ballard novel that inspired it, David Cronenberg’s study of the sexual dimension of man’s relationship to technology was a magnet for controversy, drawing a NC-17 rating and criticism from several sources, including studio owner Ted Turner, who attempted to prevent the film’s American release. But though some have leveled charges of pornography, James’ descent into this fetishistic underworld is approached with cold, scientific detachment. Characters like Vaughn, the charismatic group leader who stages recreations of celebrity car crashes, seem more like driven researchers than sexual renegades, which is undoubtedly part of the film’s point. This impression is reinforced by the pristine cinematography by Peter Suschitzsky, which proves particularly haunting during a crucial accident scene, and Howard Shore’s superb score. Far from exploitative, Crash in fact proves less transgressive than the original novel, but is still undoubtedly not for all tastes.

This lavish big-budget epic was the pinnacle of a uniquely Italian subgenre, the historical hardcore gore/porn extravaganza. The star-studded cast, perhaps lured by the high-profile involvement of producer Bob Guccione and screenwriter Gore Vidal, includes such luminaries as John Gielgud, Peter O’Toole, and Helen Mirren. Director Tinto Brass, whose similar treatment of Nazi Germany in Salon Kitty won him the job, did his best with the mammoth enterprise, but numerous production problems and re-edits took their toll on the finished product. When Caligula works best, it works because of Malcolm McDowell, whose crazed portrayal of the title Emperor is the embodiment of villainous corruption. McDowell raises his performance level to match the gaudy spectacle around him, which led to charges of overacting, but there are moments when he is absolutely riveting. Some of the cast doesn’t fare as well, as O’Toole makes a particularly unsubtle Tiberius. The sex is graphic and steamy, particularly a feverish lesbian interlude between Penthouse Pets Lori Wagner and Marjorie Thorsen (using the pseudonym “Anneka di Lorenzo”), and the various carnival freaks used as atmosphere imbue the film with a grotesque, Fellini-like opulence. There are many memorable scenes and a magnificent score by Paul Clemente, but the heady brew of historical epic, hardcore sex, and gory violence proved overwhelming to many viewers. Still, Gore Vidal’s script is surprisingly accurate, and manages to be entertainingly vulgar while bringing a rather loathsome slice of human history to vivid life, warts and all. The more explicit scenes were directed by Bob Guccione and Giancarlo Lui, causing both Vidal and Brass to remove their names from the credits.

This cold, stylish erotic-thriller grossed over $100 million at the box-office despite vigorous protests at its depiction of gays and women. The shocking opening sequence features a graphic sexual encounter involving a rock-star bound with a white Hermes scarf by an unidentified blond woman. Despite the fact that the scene ends with a bloody icepick murder (horrifyingly realized by makeup artist Rob Bottin), Hermes scarves quickly sold out at stores nationwide. This seeming paradox is at the heart of the film’s appeal, as it mixes perverse sexuality and erotic bloodshed in a manner common to European thrillers (director Paul Verhoeven had done it himself in 1979’s marvelous De Vierde Man) but mostly taboo in America. The plot concerns Catherine Tramell (Sharon Stone), a successful bisexual mystery writer who may also be a ruthless murderer. Everyone close to Catherine dies, and troubled policeman Nick Curran (Michael Douglas) must find out why. In the process, Nick becomes sexually involved with both Catherine and police psychiatrist Beth Gardner (Jeanne Tripplehorn), while the bodies begin piling up and Catherine turns the cat-and-mouse game around on Nick. Verhoeven and screenwriter Joe Eszterhas — who was paid $3 million for the script — keep the tension ratcheted up throughout, even during the frequent sex scenes, which carry a violent edge reminiscent of the Italian thrillers of Dario Argento. The film’s most notorious scene, a police interrogation in which Catherine makes drooling idiots out of her captors by revealing that she is not wearing underwear, became a cultural touchstone and was widely imitated and parodied. Sharon Stone, meanwhile, was embarrassed to the point that she claimed Verhoeven had aimed lights on strategic locations without her knowledge. George Dzundza and Dorothy Malone co-star.

Bunz and Rushon are two best buddies who are looking forward to dating two ladies, Lysterine and Nikki. When the two boys get their lives altogether, they all fall in love. But will their lives stay peaceful?

Lee Holloway is a smart, quirky woman in her twenties who returns to her hometown in Florida after a brief stay in a mental hospital. In search of relief from herself and her oppressive childhood environment, she starts to date a nerdy friend from high school and takes a job as a secretary in a local law firm, soon developing an obsessive crush on her older boss, Mr. Grey. Through their increasingly bizarre relationship, Lee follows her deepest longings to the heights of masochism and finally to a place of self-affirmation.

This offbeat comedy finds a rotund, daydreaming projectionist (Chuck McCann) who fantasizes that he is the super hero Captain Flash. He imagines his nemesis to be Renaldi (Rodney Dangerfield), whom the projectionist refers to as “the Bat.” Renaldi demands the lobby floor to be so clean he can eat off it. The film uses superimposition of older films, the first to employ such techniques. The projectionist imagines Rinaldi to be in league with the forces of evil like Hitler, Mussolini and space aliens. He is under the delusion that he must save a female co-worker (Ina Balin) from the clutches of the evil Bat. The projectionist summons such heroes as Errol Flynn, Gary Cooper and the US Marine Corp to save her from imagined danger. This is the first feature length film for director Harry Hurwitz, who also appears as an usher. This also marks the film debut for Rodney Dangerfield, who had recently changed his name from his given name of Jack Roy and opened a nightclub. The film premiered at the Rochester Film Festival in 1969. It has earned cult status over the years and is in the archives of the Museum Of Modern Art in New York.

Jane Campion directs the erotic thriller In the Cut, based on the best-selling suspense novel by Susanna Moore. Set in New York City during the summertime, the film is centered on Frannie Avery (Meg Ryan), a middle-class English teacher in the midst of researching a book project about colloquial language. One night she accidentally witnesses a sexual situation involving a suspected killer, which may make her valuable to a police investigation. When Detective Malloy (Mark Ruffalo) comes to her apartment to interview her about a neighborhood murder, she becomes intensely attracted to him. Although they are not sure if they can completely trust each other, Frannie and Malloy start up a passionate love affair. Meanwhile, the killer remains on the loose and the list of suspects includes Malloy’s partner, Rodriguez (Nick Damici), and Frannie’s student Cornelius (Sharrieff Pugh). Jennifer Jason Leigh stars as Frannie’s half-sister, Pauline. In the Cut was shown at the 2003 Toronto Film Festival.