Your beautiful pen, take the cap off

[sovay]

Peter Greenaway's The Pillow Book (1996) is the natural progression from Prospero's Books (1991), one of the most thoroughly erotic movies I have ever seen, and I would have a lot more to say about it if I hadn't found out, shortly after rushthatspeaks and I finished watching and gaudior came home, that their moving company had turned themselves into fail.

At some point in the night, I remember saying to reversepolarity, "Today has been brought to you by the numbers duct tape, boxes, and the letter what the fuck."

The move will happen and my cousins are amazing, but I stand by the description.

Comments

[deliasherman.livejournal.com]

My reaction was entirely to the whole unintended suicide/skinning section. It just plain upset me. I know it was supposed to, but the level of upset overwhelmed my appreciation of the rest of the film. This was a while back, so it may not be as bad as my memory paints it. But the memory is bad enough so that I'm reluctant to revisit it.

I want to see The Draftsman's Contract again, though. I saw the severely cut version they released in the theatres, and loved even that.

[sovay]

This was a while back, so it may not be as bad as my memory paints it. But the memory is bad enough so that I'm reluctant to revisit it.

Understood. I had been waiting for somebody to be turned into a literal book since about the fifteen-minute mark, so the skinning was not a shock—and I would not have found it at all distasteful if it had been Nagiko making the book.

I saw the severely cut version they released in the theatres, and loved even that.

I didn't know there was a severely cut version. I wonder which one I saw last fall at the Brattle.