ARIZONA DAILY STAR
Ah, 1968 Paris. Anyone who was there can tell you it was a time and place rife with passion, cultural upheaval, and hordes of incestuous twins roaming the streets.
Bernardo Bertolucci's sensual, beautiful film "The Dreamers" places us in the tiptoeing shoes of Matthew (Michael Pitt), an American student studying in Paris, where, sure enough, he meets and moves in with a pair of those notorious incestuous twins, Theo (Louis Garrel) and Isabelle (Eva Green).
OK, so maybe Bertolucci is the only guy who remembers the incestuous twins. Or maybe no such twins existed, or maybe there were a few pairs, but they might not have been keen on taking wandering American students into their households.
The most logical explanation of the bizarre premise: Bertolucci, an inarguably brilliant Oscar-winning filmmaker, is also quite the perv. The director who shocked audiences with the X-rated "Last Tango in Paris" in 1972 is still at least as daring and willing to explore bizarre sex on-screen.
Hence, the bedroom gymnastics of "The Dreamers." Theo and Isabelle sleep naked together; Theo loses a bet, and Isabelle forces him to pleasure himself in front of her and Matthew; and Theo holds Matthew down so Isabelle can have her way with the outsider.
Bertolucci may be a wild child, but he's also an artist with dogged integrity, and his brainy film reflects that. He refused to conform "The Dreamers" to R-rated standards. It's the first major studio release with an NC-17 rating since 1997.
Because the director held strong at the expense of the movie's potential monetary gross, we get to soak in the filmmaker's untainted vision. And a gorgeous, guiltily voyeuristic vision it is.
The three principal characters, all acted with devoted charisma, are filled with utopian ideas and are devoted lovers of film. Blessed with endless free time, they spend their evenings in the front row of the cinemathéque and their nights arguing over bottles of wine about the artistic merits of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin.
At any given moment, one of the three will start to flail around and gesture wildly, imitating a favorite moment from Jean-Luc Godard or Howard Hawks. As the characters act, Bertolucci intercuts scenes from the referenced films.
Matthew plays along and accepts the twins' creepiness, if only to get closer to Isabelle, with whom he fell immediately in love. On a dare, Matthew runs with the twins through the Louvre. He's rewarded by the twins chanting, "We accept you. One of us!" emulating the characters in "Freaks" (1932). Isabelle and Theo are definitely that.
There's a constant sexual interplay reverberating around the three, adding tension and urgency to their conversations. Gradually, the characters are closed off from the outside world, even as protesters take to the streets to fight for ideals they profess to advocate. The characters are so obsessed with one another, they won't even step out and fight for their beloved cinemathéque, which has been shut down by officials.
At first Matthew, as well as Bertolucci, seem to admire the cinematic and sexual cocoon, but as we go on, it becomes more obvious that Matthew, Isabelle and Theo use movies and sex as pathetic shields to protect them from reality.
It's impossible to grow and mature in such a tiny, hermetically sealed space, and it's inevitable that those who stay will suffocate on one another's dreams.
