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| Three moments from film that spoke to me: Barbarella: Jane Fonda in the clutches of Durand Durand and his excessive machine. It was during my teenage first encounter with this scene that a frisson long familiar from Batman, James Bond, the Avengers and a myriad of their stamp asserted itself as something distinctly sexual. From then on, I knew what I was, though the terms themselves took a little longer coming to. After Hours: an infuriating movie made unforgettable by a blithe Linda Fiorentino as Kiki Bridges in a chiffon cat-suit and a very stylish rope harness. I loved Horst’s crisp reproach of Paul Hackett’s “Lack of discipline”. It was a glimpse of a couple who were kinky and who felt need to neither hide, nor explain. Gudrun Landgrebe in Die Flambierte Frau (The international title is A Woman In Flames which is the letter of the German but not its spirit; A Woman Aflame would be far more in keeping). Eva ascends the spiral staircase in a harness and see-through robe, and orders her client to undress. She is glacial. Zings me every time. I’m looking for a play partner, not necessarily a lambent muse, with a view to evenings both coruscating and castigating. Incidentally, I find blanket claims to have read the profile text when you patently haven’t the most apucious behaviour. If you repeat that word to me, you will have my attention. Tell me where it comes from, and I will be duly impressed.
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