There apparently are other reasons to see Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona besides the infamous lesbian kiss between Scarlett Johansson and Penélope Cruz or the threesome between these actresses and Javier Bardem. But as the first things most of us heard about the movie, the sex scenes are certainly a big sell (the ménage à trois is even being used in a promotional contest to win a “threesome” with ScarJo). Even if they’re reportedly underwhelming.

Promise of tantalizing footage has been an appeal for moviegoers likely since the dawn of cinema, with film pioneer Eadweard Muybridge’s The Human Figure in Motion - Descending Stairs and Turning Around featuring nudity as far back as the 1880s. And if you’ve seen any of the titles included in today’s list, chances are their respective sex scenes were at least part of what made you buy a ticket (or rent the video).

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How often do you get Barbet Schroeder, Gerard Depardieu and Nestor Almendros together to shoot a film about a burglar who ends up falling in love with the dominatrix whose dungeon he’s unwittingly tried to rob? In a scene at the very beginning of Schroeder’s exquisitely paced, beautifully executed Maitresse the tone is brilliantly set for the relationship – and thus the film itself – through Almendros’ meticulously composed images. His camera captures Depardieu’s fair Olivier and his dark-haired partner-in-crime (whose bad idea it was to burglarize the “downstairs apartment”) in a hornet’s nest of their own making, caught in the act by Bulle Ogier’s “Maitresse” Ariane, and subsequently handcuffed to her radiator and guarded by a vicious Doberman named Texas.

But wait––if this doesn’t sound like a setup straight from the twisted mind of David Lynch I don’t know what does. Indeed, what’s most striking about the erotically charged scene that follows is how closely the psychological power dynamics of Schroeder’s Maitresse parallel the infamous “Bobby Peru seduces Lula” scene from Wild at Heart. In both cases no actual sex takes place. Instead there’s a steamy sadist/predator (Bobby Peru, Ariane) sinking his/her teeth into a piece of lost prey (Lula, Olivier). Both Lula and Olivier are turned on against their will, psychologically “raped,” so stunned at losing control that they’re not even fully aware of the situation they’re in, let alone how to escape it. The difference lies in the relationship between the characters. Lula is rendered helpless until Bobby releases her when he’s “gotta get going.” She’s just a toy for Bobby to kill time with in the afternoon, whereas Ariane plays for keeps – a spider whose web encompasses. Ariane takes over her “victims” wholly, completely and unapologetically. And like Bobby knowing enough to drop in on Lula unannounced – ensuring her defenses will be down – Ariane takes advantage of the element of surprise (burglars dropping in unannounced – how convenient!), wielding it like a stun gun before the attack.

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I’m sure there are many who are happy that Mike Figgis has essentially given up on filmmaking in order to make softcore ads for Agent Provacateur, but I kind of liked his version of Miss Julie, and sort of wish he’d make another film where the corsets are narrative-mandated and period-appropriate instead of, like, for sale. In any case, here’s his latest promo. This one is for a new line of Agent Provacateur shoes, and it’s much more of a straightforward advert than the shorts Figgis made for AP with Kate Moss last year. And–sorry boys–new AP model Maggie Gyllenhaal unfortunately does not make an appearance. Since it’s basically semi-tasteful bondage porn, it’s probably not safe for work, but considering it’s the Friday before Christmas, that’s probably not an issue. Happy Holidays!

[Via CineKink]

I know that when somebody dies, you’re supposed to honor them by remembering their good deeds and great works, but when it comes to Ira Levin, all I can think about is Sliver. Philip Noyce seems to have wanted his Sharon Stone/Billy Baldwin-starring adaptation of Levin’s novel to be Hitchcock with closed circuit cameras instead of binoculars, with sweaty copulation in place of double-entendre and suggestion. In practice, it plays more like expensively-produced softcore, and it only begrudgingly gives itself over to a strand of inscrutable murder mystery in order to make Stone’s character feel really, really bad about the pleasure she gets from sex and voyeurism. It’s terrible, but every time it pops up on HBO, I can’t click away––it’s just such decadant fun to watch.

Unfortunately, the only unadulterated clip I could find from the film on YouTube is the farcical dinner scene above. Sharon Stone has just begun an affair with Billy Baldwin, the owner of the skyrise apartment building into which she’s just moved. She doesn’t yet know that he has cameras installed in every unit, that he gets his kicks from watching the feeds on a giant bank of monitors, or that he had something to do with the death of a tenant that looked a lot like her. All she knows is that he wants her to take off her panties in the middle of dinner. “Panties?!?” she asks. Yes, those.