Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex * But Were Afraid to Ask (Woody Allen / U.S., 1972):

"Let's Misbehave" and a mass of bunnies fill the credits sequence, Woody Allen signs it over a close-up of a twitching pink nose. Dr. David Reuben's manual is the basis, Balzac's proverbial "orangutan trying to play the violin" informs the blackout-skit timbre. The question of aphrodisiacs in medieval times is concurrent with Pasolini's I Racconti di Canterbury, little Hamlet is a flailing jester ("That Plague is really something, isn't it?") who inflames the queen (Lynn Redgrave) but gets his hand stuck in her chastity belt. "Before you know it, the Renaissance will be here and we'll all be painting." Gene Wilder's grave turn as a physician smitten with an Armenian sheep locates The Blue Angel in the "Sodomy" segment, Lou Jacobi helping himself to the hostess' girdle and heels makes the "Transvestites" segment a severe critique of Charley's Aunt—both are serious, even clinical accounts of destructive desire. The "Frigidity" episode is shot all'italiana with Allen donning Mastroianni's shades against Antonioni's blank walls, private vices in public places are good for what ails the chilly wife (Louise Lasser). Jack Barry presides over the What's My Perversion? game show, which builds to the image of the wizened rabbi happily flagellated while his wife munches on pork. "Men of science," the distance between Dr. Kinsey and Dr. Moreau: John Carradine as the insane sexologist has a grand moment slurping in anticipation of his ultimate experiment, a giant breast terrorizing the countryside for the benefit of Fellini's La Città delle Donne. Finally, "Ejaculation" transmutes Fantastic Voyage into a salute to the enormous amount of hard work that goes into a backseat quickie. "Maintain hands on breasts! Proceed with erection! All systems go!" Sex is comedy, truly the bleakest of Allen's revues. With Tony Randall, Burt Reynolds, Anthony Quayle, Heather MacRae, Elaine Giftos, Erin Fleming, and Titos Vandis.

--- Fernando F. Croce

Back to Reviews
Back Home