Scenes of Erotica #2
December 20, 2005 | Category: Erotic Cinema, Sexblogs
Love between couples should be outlawed. Every act of love must include a third person.
I have a great affection for ‘Emmanuelle’. It’s something of a guilty pleasure. I can appreciate that it’s not a great film by any means. But I find it still has much to enjoy.
My affection for the film stems from a variety of places. Emmanuelle was one of the first adult paperbacks I ever thumbed through as a hormonally explosive teenager. I recall being drawn to the image of a green apple on a brilliant white cover, the fruit’s skin partially peeled back, the flesh within revealed to be the shapely curves of a woman’s derriere, the peel itself becoming a serpent of temptation. Ironically, I’ve yet to read the book from cover to cover. I remember little of the text, only that it was extremely titillating to my nascent sexuality.
That I should aspire to see the filmic version was probably inevitable. There was a time that I could not conceive of anything more arousing than the classic image of Sylvia Kristel: naked, save for a string of pearls at her throat, and knee-high socks and ankle boots, sitting in a high-backed chair made of wicker cane. For me, it remains a highly alluring image, a glimpse back to a time when Sylvia was, quite literally, the queen of sex.
When I finally watched Emmanuelle, hard core pornography was a commodity still beyond my hot and sweaty grasp. Emmanuelle was as hard as I could find. I wasn’t disappointed though. Far from it. It was a quantum leap forwards from the occasional flash of breast provided by terrestrial television. Of course, having now experienced more extreme explicit pleasures, both cinematically as well as in real life, the tale of one young French wife’s discovery and exploration of her pleasure thresholds can seem a little tame today.
I still find Emmanuelle an arousing film though. That’s in part due to the waif-like Ms Kristel, whose easy, almost unconscious grace and beauty combine to create an intoxicating sensuality. Almost without trying, she perfectly captures the elegance and femininity of that young Parisian wife (a touch ironic, given that the actress is actually Dutch). The rest is down to the set pieces. The story itself is paper-thin, merely a vessel by which the director Just Jaeckin contrives to have Ms Kristel naked as often as possible. Emmanuelle is a sexually naive newly-wed. Jean, her older, more experienced and somewhat sexually jaded husband, encourages her to awaken to all the pleasures her body can give her, whether that be with him or a variety of other partners. According to their developing ethos, the only sin is not to experience.
But it’s in the sexual set-pieces that the rest of the appeal lies. The mutual masturbation scene Emmanuelle indulges in with the equally waif-like Marie-Ange. Emmanuelle’s seduction within the stark white walls of a squash court by the older, calculating Arianne. Emmanuelle offered as a being given as a prize to the winner of a kick-boxing fight, and later making slow love to the exquisite Bee. Arianne slowly lifting her skirt, revealing her trimmed mound to Jean, goading him into taking her roughly across an antique table. They all have appeal.
Yet the scene I find most arousing - the one I want to talk about here - is the fantasy/recollection that Emmanuelle enjoys whilst she and Marie-Ange are masturbating together on the veranda. Emmanuelle closes her eyes and drifts away. Suddenly, we are in the first-class compartment of a 747 airliner. It’s a red eye flight; the lights are turned down, most of the passengers are asleep.
Except for Emmanuelle of course. She’s sat alone. Restless, she catches the eye of a handsome male passenger on the other side of the cabin. Teasing him, she allows him a glimpse of her stocking tops as she refastens her suspenders. Cloaking herself with a blanket, Emmanuelle flirts still more, making her desires ever more obvious. Eventually, the man is unable to resist any longer. He goes to her, kissing her passionately, unbuttoning her bright red blouse to reveal her naked breasts. He strokes one with his fingers, nuzzles the other with his lips as he reaches beneath Emmanuelle’s skirt.
Turning her back to him, she allows the stranger to ease her panties down around her stockinged thighs, and to enter her from behind. As she cries out in pleasure, the stranger covers her mouth with his hand, his wedding ring magnifying the sense of illicitness. The scene cuts away to a view of the 747 cutting its way across the evening sky. This is soft-core after all: no come shots allowed.
When the camera returns to the cabin, Emmanuelle is sat alone once again, looking almost serene in her post-orgasmic afterglow. She is not by herself for long though. A second rugged stranger, his interest and libido piqued by Emmanuelle’s first mile-high encounter, now comes to her. Without a word, he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the cramped toilet at the rear of first-class. Placing her on the edge of the sink unit, he penetrates her without dallying, his cock (apparently) sliding effortlessly into a cunt that is undoubtedly still hot and wet and aroused from Emmanuelle’s first fuck.
Is it purely fantasy, the product of her feverish imagination? Or is Emmanuelle simply recalling the flight she took from Paris to join her husband in Thailand? The answer is left entirely to the viewer’s imagination. I like to think it’s the latter.
Why should this scene continue to stir me after so many far more explicit films, after so many erotic encounters of my own? The sexuality of Miss Kristel. The way she allows herself to be taken by not one but two virile, greedy strangers. The almost fetishistic way that her first lover lifts her skirt and draws her panties down to mid-thigh so that he can enter her. The daring of the setting, taking pleasure amongst the oblivious, indolent masses. It all connects. And now I can watch that scene and imagine that it’s MW in the place of Miss Kristel, surrendering to her lust, to opportunity. Allowing a stranger’s cock to enter her not once, but twice, for nothing other than her own satisfaction.
Thirty years old, and still going strong. Vive Sylvia Kristel. Vive Emmanuelle.
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I must admit to never seeing the film or reading the book. I may look this one up.
My personal erotic favourite from a while back is 9 1/2 weeks. It’s the perfect erotic blend, with beautifully filmed scenes.
I personally love the one on the stairs in the rain. Oh, how I would have loved to swap places with Kim.
Suze, it’s only fair to say that Emmanuelle is a film that hasn’t aged especially well - and it can be pretty corny. I’m not sure that it has any serious comment to make about relationships: it certainly doesn’t have any of the pretentions of ‘Romance‘. That said, it has some (IMO) genuinely erotic moments, and if you approach it with your tongue lodged somewhere between your own cheek and your lover’s loins, I think you’ll find it worthy of at least one viewing.
9 1/2 weeks is - for me anyway - another example of style over substance (not that that’s necessarily a bad thing). The scene you mentioned is definitely erotic (though I’d imagine the reality of fucking in a rain-soaked alley might not be as much fun in autumnal England as in a balmy New Orleans). Personally, I most enjoyed the scene of Kim Basinger masturbating by herself to the Eurythmics whilst viewing her latest batch of slides. Hot lady…
~EA
I saw the very first two lines of this blog on a search engine and pointed here to your site: “Love between couples should be outlawed. Every act of love must include a third person.”
I just thought it was so cool to discover that I’m not the only person in this world who feels that way! Tis the gospel truth!!
Enjoyed this article in it’s entirety, even though it WAS the top two lines that drew my attention.
Peace and Prosperity to All!
The lines that caught your attention are a direct quote from ‘Emmanuelle’ itself. I’m not sure that I hold to that ethos 100% myself - but there are certainly aspects of it that have much appeal for me (you probably don’t have to read all that many of this blog’s posts to realise that!)
In any event, I’m delighted you found the piece on ‘Emmanuelle’ an enjoyable read - even if you were lured here under slightly skewed pretences…
Merry Christmas to you!
~EA
HA that’s interesting.. i use to watch emmanuelle when i was CERTAINLY too young to be watching porn on the cinimax or the movie channel, i can’t remember which. but back in the day one of those channels use to have a series of emmanuelles… i would always stay up late on the weekends and check it out. never knew there was a book or movie.
A~
Hi Amanda.
I think ‘Emmanuelle’ has been spun off in so many different directions (she’s had plastic surgery to change her appearance, been black, a victim of exploitation, been blasted into outer space), it’s easy for people to either forget - or never realise to begin with - her beginnings. The original book was written by Emmanuelle Arsen, and is supposedly the memoirs of her sexual adventures in Thailand. As I said in my piece, I’ve yet to read it. Perhaps I’ll put that right in 2006…
~EA
You nailed it EA.
These films are classics that will continue to live on simply because they emit sensuality, whereas today’s porn on film is too artificial, only suitable for the quick ‘fuck’ or ‘let’s get it over and I don’t care if I see you again’ type of instant gratification which I liken to the toddler mentality, as opposed to the fully developed adult or ‘wine’ state of things.
I remember walking in the streets of Sydney as a pubescent girl dreaming of seeing Emmanuelle one day and after I did it was very difficult to really appreciate today’s offerings, very few are good/sensual or even arousing without being beyond cheesy (adult theatres back then showcased these feature erotic films as a films in their own right, not as cheap ’skank’ fests whereas today, 90% of sex on film, that is pure amateur cinematography with a shitload of ’skanky ho’ thrown in).
ps: I still get my thrills seeing Lady Chatterly’s Lover (with Krystel), Bilitis and for that real sordid type of sex fest, Caligula is interesting too.
Great post EA, makes me sigh when I think of the sensuality of erotic film of ‘then’.
Thanks to DVD (and VHS to a lesser extent), there’s still an option for those of us who prefer the sensuality of yesterday to the MTV/amateur/’do not pass go’ efforts produced today to indulge our urges.
The Sylvia Kristel version of LCL - didn’t that co-star Nicholas Clay? I recall reading a critic’s appraisal of the film when it came out. “The only man in the world who can make love without moving his buttocks” or something to that effect was its damning appraisal of Mr Clay. Now - along with ‘Anatomy de L’enfer’ - that’s two films of erotica you’ve mentioned that I haven’t seen. Some purveyor of the erotic arts I turned out to be!
~EA