Director Bertolucci straddled the intersection of erotic art and pornography in this breaththrough film. It was shown once, and only once, for its premiere at a New York Film Festival, before the Italian censors banned it. It would take eleven years before Italian audiences could see even an editted version in their own cinemas. In fact, Brando was initially indicted by Italian courts for his role as the nameless hotelier with kinky sexual desires. My, my.

Yet what amazes me is how much better I now understand two other films as a result of watching this. Brando’s creepy character in Apocolypse Now seems to tie right back to his role in this film. This may be where he first revealed his deeper, darker nature. Also, Nine and a Half Weeks (a film I’ve long loved) now seems to me the direct spiritual heir of Last Tango. It almost could have been a remake in some ways.

Like it or don’t, this is one of the great ones. Be prepared for some peculiar and disturbing scenes. The one with Brando’s dead wife is particularly haunting. The scene where he asks his 20-yearold playmate to trim her fingernails may shock even today’s jaded audiences. And you will know why the title fits so well by the end, one of filmdom’s more memorable dance scenes.

I wanted the film to be good, because I am familiar with all the hype about it.
I found myself anxious for the movie to end. Hated the Marlin Brando character….

Just … wow …

I think it will take a few days before I can figure out where to start talking about this masterpiece. But I’ll say now that I’ve never had such a wonderful post-film conversation as the one I had with my friends after watching it.

And on a completely superficial note, the transition between a hardcore sex scene and a group of ducks is officially my all-time favourite cinematic transition. Hahaha.

For a movie with so much sex, this is such an unsexy film. I found it pretty disturbing. The topic is not that original either, a man treating a woman harmfully and the woman returning again and again.
The only really interesting question the movie raises (and for me the only reason it was marginally worthwhile) would be why is it so important to know a person’s past and a person’s name? Without those things do we ever really know a person? Is it impossible to just be with someone in the present?
Of course, this isn’t about trying to find that answer…It’s hard for me to understand why so many people like this film actually.

A painful, hilarious, and at times ugly rumination on how the idea of love and its expressions are weathered and mutated by moving through adulthood.

Oh Lord… how boring. That’s all really. Honestly.